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starstruckmiraclekitty · 2 years ago

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141 + LV & König Cumming Too Quick

Warnings: swearing, cumming, smut

A/N: Based on a few requests, I just complied this into one. I hope that's okay!!😊🩷 ( I also have seen these posts circling around, and everyone's is so good😭)

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GIF by ghostslittlegf

Simon Ghost Riley-

It was late into the night when Simon tossed and turned restlessly in bed. He was beyond horny and couldn't help himself when his hands started to caress your body next to him.

You stirred awake, blinking the sleep from your eyes as you felt your husband's hands wandering your body.

"Love." He whispered as he softly ground his cock against your ass. "Need you."

You let out a sleepy moan before grabbing Simon's hand and laying it on your chest. Simon was never this needy, and his soft pleas sent heat straight to your core. "Please, Si."

He squeezed at the flesh of your breast before moving his other hand to pull down your panties. He ran his fingers along your folds, pleasantly surprised to find you already soaked for him. "Such a good girl."

He pulled down his own knickers and rubbed the tip of his cock along your folds, before pushing into you.

You cried out, leaning back into his chest more, your walls clenching around him. His hand flew to your hips, grasping at the flesh there.

"Fuck, love, please dont." Simon begged. Your walls were squeezing his cock too much and he could barely withhold his orgasm as it was.

"Si, you feel so good, please." You whined, clawing at your boyfriend.

He slowly started to move, cursing every so often as your walls kept clenching down on him, making it impossible for him to focus.

"Bloody fucking hell!" He cried out, unable to prolong his orgasm any longer, as his cock pulsed inside you. His head flew into the apex of your shoulder, biting into the skin as he cried out softly from his orgasm.

He pulled away slowly, his cheeks red from embarrassment. "I'm sorry, love."

You turned your head and pressed a searing kiss to his lips. You crawled over the top of him, not removing your lips from his, as your hand went to stroke his member.

"I'm flattered." You pulled away with a teasing grin. You were wide awake now and needy for him.

"C'mere." He pulled you back into him as he moved his hand to cup at your heat, his fingers toying with your clit. "Can't leave my princess left hanging, can I? Wouldn't be very gentleman like of me."

GIF by shadow0-1

Johnny Soap MacTavish-

Johnny was watching as you did your nightly stretches before bed, unable to control his cock from hardening in his pants at the sight. He'd had pent of frustration from work he hadn't been able to release in days, and watching you bending over was sending him over the edge.

"Lass. Come 'ere." He begged, reaching his arms out to you. "I need you, sweetheart."

You turned toward your boyfriend with a wolfish grin. "What do you need, baby?"

"You. Please I fucking need you." He whined, pulling his cock out of his shorts. He began to fist at his length lazily, and watched as you discarded your bottoms before crawling over on top of him.

You settled your hands on his chest, before sinking yourself down on his cock, both of you moaning in unison. You didn't let him adjust before you started fucking him eagerly.

"Babe, slow down, please." Johnny pleaded, his eyes flying open as you continued to bounce up and down on his cock, your pace not relenting. His hands flew up to your chest, and he began to pinch at your nipples, eliciting a loud moan from you.

Johnny's head pushed back into the pillow behind him, and watched as you rode him. You looked ethereal on top of him, and he was trying desperately not to cum so soon.

"C-cant stop. Feels too good, Johnny. " Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you gripped onto your boyfriend's outstretched arm. You continued your movements as you took one of his fingers in your mouth and began to suck on it feverishly.

Johnny, at that moment, lost all sense of himself as he grabbed your hips with a bruising grip and thrusted up into you before his orgasm ripped through him. His body collapsed back onto the bed, his hands still squeezing harshly at your flesh as his cock emptied its release inside you.

You kept with your movements, slowing down to milk his cock with your tight walls. Johnny pulled you off of him and laid you below him on the bed.

"You're a damn minx." He growled, nipping at your earlobe. "Sorry though, I feel like an arse."

You smiled at him as you tucked your bottom lip in between your teeth. You kept your eyes locked with his as you started to move your hand toward your pussy, fingers beginning to shove his cum back inside you. "Make it up to me?"

It didn't take long before Johnny was cumming again.

GIF by tomhollandisabae

Alejandro-

"Shit, shit, shit. Mi amor, you're so tight." Alejandro cried out. His breathing was rapid as he struggled to prevent his orgasm from happening this early on.

The feeling of your pussy squeezing his cock, mixed with the faint moans coming from you had Alejandro's resolve crumbling quickly.

He always lasted awhile with you, but his most recent mission had kept him away from you for quite some time, and he was practically cumming in his pants when you'd accidentally grazed his cock when he'd gotten home.

You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, your nails raking into his back, breaking the skin in some places. "Please Ale, harder."

Alejandro let out a breathy moan and rested his forehead against yours. "I'm trying, my love. You feel too good tonight."

You let out a soft whimper at his words, and Alejandro felt his control slipping through his fingers. He gave a few more thrusts, and his orgasm rippled through him as your walls clenched down on him once more. "FUCK!"

He began panting as his cock painted your walls white with his cum, and languidly moved in and out of your pussy as he rode out his high. "I'm so sorry, my love. I couldn't."

You let out a sweet giggle, pulling his mouth down to yours. "It's okay, Ale."

"Why don't we go take a shower, yeah? Let me take care of you in there." He whispered, peppering kisses to your face.

You gave a firm nod to him as he stopped you into his arms bridal style. "I love you, cariño."

GIF by shadow0-1

John Price-

John had been needy all day. You'd been on about a half dozen calls for work and weren't able to pay him any attention. It wasn't often he got overly needy like this, and when you got off your final work call, he came over to you, threw you on his shoulder and took you up to your shared room.

He made quick work of your clothes and was over top of you within seconds of entering the bedroom. He pulled your ass to him, getting on his knees to press a wet open mouth kiss to your pussy, using his saliva to lube the area for himself.

You moaned, throwing your head forward on the bed, before you felt the tip of John's cock at your entrance. He pushed himself in fully with one movement of his hips and groaned loudly as you instinctively clenched around him.

"Fuck baby, you're so tight. I'm not going to last long." His head lulled forward as he tried to compose himself.

Price was thrusting in and out of you slowly, unable to pick up his pace without fear of cumming to quick. He was usually a man of great stamina, but it'd been weeks since he's had you and weeks since he's been able to get off.

He gripped your hips tightly as he continued to languidly thrust into you. He felt he was able to pick up the pace ever so slightly, when all of a sudden your walls had clenched down on him, causing him to stop his movements altogether.

He landed a slap down on your ass as his face scrunched together, desperately focusing on not cumming. The impact of his hand on your ass caused you to lurch forward, sticking your ass up just a little bit higher, and Price lost it.

He gave a weak thrust, and his orgasm hit him hard. He leaned himself against you panting, as his cock released inside of you. "Fucking...shit."

He took a moment to regain his senses, taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

You turned to look at him with a smile before flipping over to slide off the bed. John's hand on your wrist stopped you. "Where do you think you're going?"

"To get a towel to clean up?" You asked, perplexed.

"I'm not done with you yet, sweetheart, get back on that bed, on all fours, now."

GIF by codsona-moved

Kyle Gaz Garrick-

Kyle was beyond desperate. You'd been away on a business trip all weekend, and he had nothing to help himself other than his hand, which did little to satiate his needs. It was mere moments after you'd gotten through the door when he took you directly to the bedroom.

"Hun, I'm c-close." Kyle panted, his eyes closed in concentration.

"Already?" You teased, running your hands along the muscles in his back. You began pressing kisses along his chest, trailing them up to his sweet spot just below his ear, and bit the flesh there softly before running your tongue along it.

"Sh-shut it." He laughed, his brows furrowed together as he continued to thrust into you. You'd felt tighter than ever to him in that moment, and he was trying his best to focus on not coming, but the way your walls were clenching his cock made it impossible. "You feel so good, shit."

He felt the coil in his belly snap as his orgasm overcame him. His cock throbbed inside you, as he emptied himself within your walls. "Fuck, I'm so sorry."

You gave him a small chuckle before pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. "Glad to know I can help out."

"More than you know, baby." He smiled as he kissed your forehead. "Can I make it up to you?"

You gave a shy nod as he latched his lips to your neck. "Always so good to me, let me return the favor."

GIF by albert-vvesker

König-

König sat with his knee bouncing rapidly on the couch. He'd just gotten home from a long mission and was beyond sexually frustrated. You were cooking dinner when he'd arrived and told him to sit patiently on the couch, but he was growing restless.

He abruptly stood up and made his way over to you, pulling you away from the food in front of you. "Maus... let me have you please. Can't wait any longer."

You turned and gave him a small smile. "Who am I to say no."

He immediately pushed you up against the counter, your ass pressing against his hardening cock. He ripped down your panties and discarded his own before he ran a finger along your folds, playing with your bundle of nerves. "So good to me, Schatz."

When he felt he prepped you enough, he was quick to fully sheath himself within your now sopping cunt. He let out a soft whine, as he already felt himself nearing his high. "Scheisse"

He started to thrust slowly, as he tried to concentrate on not cumming too quickly. He pulled himself out for just a moment to take a quick break, before ramming himself back into you, burying himself entirely within your velvety walls.

The squeak you had let out at his movement is what set him over the edge. He gave a soft cry as he convulsed against you, his cock spilling inside of you.

His eyes blinked open slowly, as he started to regain his senses. "Maus...I'm... I'm so sorry." His face was beat red, and he refused to look you in the eyes.

You turned at the smell of something burning and were quick to run to turn the oven off. "The food! Shit it's all burned now."

Königs eyes trailed you, and his eyes grew dark at the sight of his cum dripping down your leg. He grabbed the back of your neck and pulled your mouth against his. The kiss was bruising, a clash of tongue and teeth, and when he pulled away, a trail of your saliva followed.

"I'm hungry for something else, anyway." He said as he got to his knees in front of you. Holding your gaze, he began to run his tongue along your folds, cleaning up the mess he left behind. "Don't want to make a mess in here, now do we?"

GIF by collinnmckinley

Rodolfo-

"Oh my...shit. Please, I'm trying not to cum quick lindo."

You began to bob your head a bit quicker, swirling your tongue around his tip, collecting the pooling precum there.

Rodolfos hands flew to your hair, tugging on the strands harshly as his hips began to buck wildly, effectively fucking your throat. You began to gag around his length, causing him to hiss out a groan.

He cried out as he snapped, unable to withholding his orgasm any longer. His load spilled into the back of your throat, while his grip on your hair tightened.

"Mierda." He panted, his grip loosening as he pulled himself away from you.

He nearly came again at the sight of your state. You had drool pooling your mouth, and your hair was a mess from him gripping it.

"I'm sorry, mi amor." He cupped your cheek softly, as a light pink dusted his cheeks. "I'm usually better than that."

"No need to apologize, Rudy. I take it as a compliment." You gave him a sweet smile before placing a kiss to his cheek.

You turned and started to make your way to the bathroom, and on your way you started to discard your clothes, leaving them in a trail on the floor behind you.

Rodolfos jaw opened at your gesture and was quick to follow you into the bathroom. What kind of lover would he be if he didn't make your kindness up to you?

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A/N: AHHH THIS IS TRASH🫠😭

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atrxcities · 1 year ago

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cam is desperately searching for the return address on this surprise gift :)

@shadow0-1

#artists on tumblr #call of duty #cod mw2 #modern warfare #original character #phillip graves #jackie ramirez #ship: high places #jax

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sunshine-soap-zine · 10 months ago

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💥👊 Guest 26/26 👊💥

We’d like to introduce you to today’s special guest: @shadow0-1 ! 💥👊

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blingblong55 · 1 year ago

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The Great War - Simon Riley//Vladimir Makarov

Creds to: @shadow0-1 for that Ghost work

Based on a request:

with the new mw3, lets do angst, something along the lines of "Somewhere in the haze, got a sense i've been betrayed" coming from us because 141 betrayed us horribly, which ended up in us getting tortured and then we pretennd its fine when it isnt. forget and forgive we lie and when we meet with Makarov, we tell them, 'oops sorry, forgot i was also a enemy at some point, guess its time to betray like real enemies do' and as we set Makarov free, we show that we have been working as his spy ever since they betrayed us. also can this be with a female reader and we also marry makarov behind their backs so thats why we betray so hard? i love u!

A/N: I forgot to add the angst....im so sorry pookies

Part 2

---- F!Reader, soldier!reader, enemy!reader, betrayal ----

It's been three months since Task Force 141 last saw you and how you betrayed them. Makarov and you have become the real-life Joker and Harley Quinn. In love with the other and maybe the love is toxic but the way he and you were so mental and in love made it all so good and bad. Everywhere you went, his hand held yours. It was romance for what poison could be. Deadly. One night, as Makarov and you celebrate your anniversary, he decides to spoil you. A private jet, a romantic location and a whole week in paradise. Well, that is the plan at least.

On the way there, the jet gets hit, Makarov rushes and puts a vest over you, his trusted gun and a kiss. "What are you doing?!" you frantically ask. "I'll meet you at our spot later my love," he lets go and then opens the door to the jet. The air tearing the door, he kisses you once more and as you look at him in fear and confusion, he gives you the illusion that he is right behind. Which he is not.

As you descend back to steady ground, the last person you ever thought wanted to see you, pulls a risky stunt. One he claims he has no idea he had the adrenaline for. Your body is so close to the ground as you watch your husband's jet explode. Ghost, holding you close as he deploys his parachute. "Vlad!" you call out with a tear-filled face. Ghost held you with all his mighty power until you two reached the grassy area. As he begins to unstrap, your hands hit his chest multiple times. Messy tears escape your face, "Why! why the hell did this happen?! What did you do!" Your hits became more defenceless as you cried and let out sobs of fear. Ghost wraps his arms around you.

In your memories, there he is, Vladimir and the children you were so set to want. Lazy Friday nights, the kids, Vladimir and you, a beautiful and complete family. It was like every puzzle was perfectly placed. Green lawn, sunny day, a puppy, giggles and small kisses. All gone in a matter of seconds.

"Shhh, shhh, I know, R/N, I know," his hand on your head, rubbing it as he kept you close to him. He was a trained soldier, after all, so he knew that occasionally he had to deal with people going through so many emotions. His gaze, why does it have to be this way? Why must he stare at you like this now?

No one knew Ghost had been on the lookout for you. That he went against every order given to him, that he broke an oath to hold you in arms this way as you cry. You pull away, your arms wrapping around your own body. Trying to find comfort in this moment. How did you lose him so easily? After so long of loving him in secret, he is gone this quickly. Like a cheap curse. But he was meant to be the lifelong curse. To ruin your very soul and taint you with his power of cruelness.

"God what were you even thinking?!" You push him., "You could've died, Simon. And then what?! huh!" You push him again and this time he grabs your arms. His stare lowered, eyes teared up as he confessed, "I did it for you," and now, he has become someone who he hates. Someone who betrayed the task force, someone who fucked it up and still it felt so right. Maybe you are a temptress, maybe you are the cruel one and not these men. Why must you make them love you so hard that they do this? What the hell do you even do now?

"I killed them all, please…please R/N, please listen to me." His voice more softer, gaze is so beautiful that it makes your heart flutter. "No, Simon-" "Listen to me this once. I know what I did is wrong but damn it, don't you feel it too? Don't you feel what I do? When I hear your voice, that sweet melody becomes my reason to wake up early, to smile, to even dare come back from operations. R/N, I know I'm not the best-looking guy in a crowd but…damn it, I would ruin everything for you."

His hand holds yours as he places it over his chest, "For years, so many years, this heart has belonged to just you." He whispers and holds you in for a kiss.

A gunshot.

One body to the floor and then darkness surrounded by crimson red.

No one ever said the joke or Harley Quinn had a good ending, guess it is the way this life goes.

[At the 141 base]

"Price, have yer seen Ghost?" Soap walks in after looking for his friend around the base for nearly an hour. "Should be in the shooting range," Price responds. "Think he mentioned something about going to the gym," Gaz mentions. "Not in any of those places." Soap says. The three men looked everywhere. Then, a soldier comes running in, "Someone stole the plans and mapping for the operation-" "and many of the files have been deleted, security footage is also gone." Another soldier comments. The three men have many possible answers and then two names come to mind. Makarov and yours.

"She fucking kidnapped him?!" Soap was furious and it was well known he hated you for what you did. Gaz, oh that man hated you for everything you were worth. In their books, you placed first place against Makarov and Graves. "That fucking bitch," Soap slams his fist on the table of Price's office.

As the men gather information and what else was taken, they realise a pattern here. After knowing who you were, your pattern who Vladimir is and his way of dealing with stuff, they understood the job was from someone on the inside and described you as someone who broke in. With contacts in many parts of the world, they looked for traces of him and traces of you.

You weren't even planning on this robbery to the base. Makarov wasn't either, so there is a third man. Alejandro and the rest of Los Vaqueros were told that they had someone else as a suspect. The devil herself, Valeria Garza. One look into her history and she was also not behind this mess. She was hunting down someone, yes but she didn't care for 141…yet.

After hours of exploring any enemy that would do this, it suddenly struck. And just as Gaz was about to give his shocking idea, Laswell walked in.

"Ghost wasn't kidnapped, the files were stolen but it was him…he is the man on the inside. This entire time, Ghost talked with Makarov, they weren't friends but allies. He is our next target," she slams his file on the table. "If we want Makarov, we take Ghost down first." "But how?" "We hurt the desire of his newfound criminal mind." "Which is?" "Grim. We know he was hurt when she revealed she was with Makarov, so it's time we take it old school and hurt her to get to him." Laswell looks over at Price, he nods and leans on over. "If we do this, I don't want casualties." "We got a deal?" "We do."

With that set, 141 found the targets of their next operation but this time, their calls had to be whispered. Two former members of their teams who knew them all too well, this has to be all a precise work of war. Simon 'Ghost' Riley, R/N 'Grim' Makarov, the new image of a ticking bomb. Their names are given to all the agents in the world. Hitmen, snipers and all countries, looking for two mad soldiers.

One was set to win. That win would set a new record for all criminals and good men. This is how modern warfare changes for the better and worse of us.

This is the great war.

A/N: i thought this was uploaded and it turns out it was in my drafts all along....i'm stupid

Tags: @actuallyhiswife @eicee @liyanahelena

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lialucis · 2 months ago

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CONDOR!NIK LETS GOOOO

Condor!Nik who was always a caring person, a natural nesting instinct not often seen in the male variations of his species. Who is always quick to stand a bit too close to those he reflexively registers as his 'clutch' ever since he was a fledglingWhich registered as anyone smaller than the giant man

But when Nik was small and still getting his big boy feathers in, he had a habit of posturing and crowding in front of the large people or looking over the smaller ones. Always having to be a fighter and defenderHas a habit of standing up straight, chest out, wings braced, making him look even bigger

MF HAS RED AND BLUE WINGS LIKE A BRAVIARY CAUSE IM A SLUT FOR HIS RED JACKET!! LOOK AT IT

https://www.tumblr.com/shadow0-1/746127570297372672?source=share

ITS SUCH A NICE COLOR SCHEEEEME

#cod #how to tag #fucking beautiful #cod nikolai #nikolai cod #hybrid au

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xxavengingangelxx · 1 year ago

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Like a Phoenix

Notes: This came from a request for a comfort/love fic @unicorngirly1! <3

It was inspired by this amazing, gorgeous work of art by @shadow0-1. It made me wonder if Phil would worry about his wife leaving him were he to get scarred on a mission.

Anyways, summary!: Graves is burned in an unexpected explosion and is scarred. He worries about his wife leaving him because of it but his wife more than reassures him his scars only make him more attractive to her.

Warnings for: SMUT! MDNI! No other warnings, just hot and heavy sexy times and brief descriptions of burns. Work has been insane and I was suddenly inspired to write this after a dry spell. Not much proofreading, sorry for mistakes! But I had to get it out to my buddies :)

Taglist: @bellgraves, @shepgurl, @sharksausages, @lily-lily131313, @candy616. Want on or off the tags? Let me know :)

You were the wife of a mercenary. Weirdly enough, you two had met in a bar. What a story to tell the son you shared, right? You’d always been attracted to soldiers and you had just finished college and you’d been having fun with soldiers coming back from deployment. You’d been hanging out there for a year while you worked a boring office job, that bar really being your only source of enjoyment in your otherwise boring life.

You’d met a couple of soldiers, some of them foreign. The ones coming off deployment were always…rough wasn’t the right word. Passionate was. But holy shit were those nights hot and heavy. There was one you hooked up with a couple of times before meeting Phil. What had been his name? Johnny? Sometimes if he was in a mood he’d have you call him Soap. Scottish men were something else.

And then, funnily enough, on fourth of July weekend, your eyes caught Phil’s. You didn’t know his name back then of course. But you caught him looking at you, his blue eyes catching the low light of the bar and glowing. He nursed a beer, typical Texan, and smirked at you. He was decked out in field gear with a vest that had an American flag, a tag that read B-23, and had wires running through it.

No name tag though. Nameless, handsome stranger.

That nameless, handsome stranger eventually excused himself from a group of men who were dressed similarly. The men had been checking you out, too and sneered at you as well. But the nameless shadow had called dibs apparently because they told him to “go for it.”

“’S your name, darlin’?”

And when he got closer that was when you realized he was tall and broad and built and he had this heat that emanated off him that was almost intimidating. He smelled like cologne, aftershave, gunpowder, and sweat. And the fear of his enemies. He’d killed people earlier that day you were sure.

So why did that make you even more attracted to him?

You stumbled over your name for the first time in your life as he eyed you up and down shamelessly.

A booth opened up near the bar and the man led you towards it before you really knew what was happening. He had to take off his vest, the Velcro ripping loudly in order to fit in the booth. As he sat across from you, you caught more of his intoxicating scent. He was all man.

You wondered what his war-torn body looked like naked and what he would taste like on your tongue. You wondered if he would stretch you when he pushed himself inside you. You pressed your thighs together under the table to ease some of the pressure.

“Caught you lookin’ and I was always raised to never leave a lady wantin,’” he said in that sexy drawl. “Names Phil. Phil Graves.”

You repeated your name, not stuttering over your words this time.

“What’d you want to drink?”

The rest was history. You stopped seeing other men and even though he had a way with the ladies he’d also stopped seeing other women. Before you knew it, he had you moved into his house in the span of a month. He’d made you quit that boring-ass office job, saying you didn’t need to work. He said no wife of him was going to work outside the home. Also, anything you wanted? It was yours.

And in the mean time? You’d fuck him, he’d fuck you, and everything in between. You hated when he went off on deployments but loved it when he got back. He had that scent that he had the first night you met him. So intoxicating.

You got married to him 6 months in. He’d said he just knew you were the one. You weren’t 100% sure but he’d certainly convinced you in the last 3 years. He was the man of your dreams and more.

He was on deployment now and you were expecting him back any day. While he was away, there were always 2 Shadows posted at the house to keep you and the son you shared with him safe.

You’d just had breakfast and had your son on your hip when one of Graves’s men approached you, satellite phone in hand and a solemn look on his face.

Your mind instantly went to the worst place.

“Don’t you dare tell me he’s gone,” you whispered. You had intended for it to come out harsher but you couldn’t. Tears prickled your eyes and your son poked at them curiously as they fell down your cheeks.

“No, thank God, it’s not that,” the Shadow reassured.

“Then what?”

“There was an unexpected explosion and—”

“And, and what?!”

“He was burned,”

“So?”

“He might have permanent scarring,”

You sighed. “I don’t give a shit. I wanna see my husband.”

You’d left your son in the care of a "Shadow dad." That particular Shadow was your son’s godfather so you trusted him with your son’s life.

When you stepped into the hospital room, it was warmer than you expected it to be. “Phil?” You called out softly.

No answer. Just the beeping of the machines.

You gently pushed the curtains hanging from the ceiling to the side…

And there he was.

Peacefully asleep. The left side of his face had a white translucent bandage as did his left arm. His left leg seemed to have been spared and if you guessed, his chest had been spared because of his vest.

“Phil,” you sighed, starting to cry. You cuddled up to him in bed on his right side and cried softly while you listened to him breathe.

The next year had been trying. Phil, the great Shadow Commander had been unable to join his soldiers in the field. He hated sending them out with him going. His men were like sons to him and losing any of them would have him sniffling while trying to hide the fact that he was crying.

Graves had healed. Skin grafts had taken and you and your husband had both come to terms with the fact that he was always going to look different.

His Shadows started calling him Phoenix because he had literally risen from the ashes of an explosion and lived.

And then suddenly, out of the blue it seemed, Phil started getting nervous about you leaving him, about his son being scared of him.

“That’s silly. Your son loves you.” You brought the now-sizeable four-year-old into the room, having picked him up out of his playpen and brought him to set next to his dad on the couch.

Father and son made eye contact, with Phil looking at his tiny (compared to adult Graves) son sitting next to him on the couch and his son looking at his hulking figure of a dad. The boy’s green-ish blue eyes met his father’s blue eyes.

The pause lasted forever and you started working up a line in your head that even if the tiny tot expressed fear, that it was nothing to worry about.

And finally, the toddler smiled and crawled into his father’s lap, running tiny hands over the left side of Phil’s face and his left arm. “You squiggwy, Daddy. Color inside the lines.”

And tears pricked your eyes as well as Phil’s when you all laughed.

“You should find someone better looking,” Phil said to you later than night when you came in from having put your son to bed.

“Phil, that’s ridiculous. I love you.”

You crawled in to bed with him and snuggled up to him. You then climbed on top of him. He had been lying down on his back and you straddled him.

“Phil, all this does,” you ran a gentle hand down the scars on the left side of his face and his left arm. “Is make you look hotter. You beat death. You’re a badass.”

“Can I tell you…ask you something?” Phil whispered, resting his hands on your hips.

“As long as it doesn’t involve anything about me leaving you,”

A kind smile touched his face.

“Can we have another?”

“Another—”

“Another one.”

Oh. Oh.

“You want another kid?” You asked.

“I really do,” Phil answered.

“How do we make babies again?” you teased, grinding your hips on his growing erection.

Phil easily tossed you off of him onto the side of the bed. Hard enough that you had to catch yourself so you didn’t fall off the bed.

“Shit, my bad,” he chuckled. “Ya’lright?” he asked, helping ease you under him, legs wrapped around his hips.

“More than alright,” you purred.

Phil had recently been able to be more active as his skin healed and he easily pulled your nightgown up and off you.

“No panties?” he smirked, eyeing you lustfully.

“Easy access,” you said coyly.

“Naughty girl,” he growled. He pushed his sweats and boxers below his cock, now hard and red and ready.

“Only for you,” you moaned arching up, feeling the hot tip of his cock kiss your entrance before Phil placed a hand over your belly button and tsked disapprovingly.

“So needy,” Phil gasped when he felt your own wet entrance touch him.

“Gotta get you ready, yeah?” Phil rumbled.

“M’ ready, m’ ready,” you pleaded, trying to arch up to his hot dick, now oozing precum.

“Could be more ready,”

And you gasped when you felt his lips on your entrance. His stubble on the right side of his face still scratched your inner thigh and you had to stop yourself from yelping at the sudden sharp sensation.

And he licked you from your vagina to your clit, making you quiver. You hands went to his hair, holding him in place. His hair had grown out slightly longer and it just made it all the easier to grasp it.

And when he sucked on your clit, and pressed his tongue against it, you moaned his name.

He withdrew suddenly, making you whimper at the loss.

“Phil,” you protested.

“I wanna be inside you when you cum,” he said darkly.

And so he pushed inside of you, slowly, so slowly that your breath caught in your throat when you tried to tell him to go faster. He suddenly bottomed out inside of you quickly, slamming home in a way that made you cry out.

“Don’t wanna wake ‘im, hush,” Phil whispered, his hot lips brushing your ear. “Don’t make me put something in there to make you be quiet.”

You moaned, softer this time.

Phil moved, pulling all the way out before again starting slowly and then pushing back in to hit your cervix.

You brought your hands up to his shoulders. You scratched his right shoulder with your nails. But not his left one. That one had just been kissed by the flames but the fire had spent enough time on that skin to scar him.

Phil groaned, grinding his hips against your clit as he hit your cervix and that gummy spot inside you. His hot lips now sucked a hickey on your neck before moving to your breasts. And that combination of sensations: his hips grinding against you, stimulating your clit, his long, thick cock hitting your cervix as his thrusts became harder, fast, and his sucking your breasts was when you surrendered to him and came.

He was quick to put his left hand over your mouth to cover any cries that might have left your mouth otherwise.

“Fuuuuck,” Phil gasped. He thrusted faster, his hips losing their rhythm as he got closer to his own high. He removed his hand from your mouth and instead used his hands to pin your wrists down on either side of your head as he chased his own climax, finally cumming inside you, filling you with hot, thick ropes of cum, right into your fertile womb.

Phil stayed inside you as you continued clenching around him, hearing him hiss as he was now overly sensitive.

“Never leave,” Phil whispered.

“Never will,” you promised.

#phillip graves #phillip graves x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #graves x reader #john soap mactavish

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kastlequill · 2 years ago

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nsfw alphabet — krueger

pairing: sebastian krueger x f!reader word count: 4.1k tags: headcanons, established relationship, fluff and smut, descriptions of: blood kink, blow jobs, closet sex, cunnilingus, hair-pulling, mild breeding kink, predator/prey dynamic, public + mutual masturbation, scratching, shower sex, spanking, vaginal fingering warnings: minors dni! gif: shadow0-1 ao3: read here

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Although unused to the concept of sticking around post-sex, Krueger had always been a quick study, especially when it came to things he deemed to be of the utmost importance. And what was more important than your well-being? After the first night you spent together, you’d later confessed that you had struggled to ground yourself without him as a tether. But you’d only needed to say this once because Krueger had internalized every word.

As the weeks went by, you in your blissed-out state of euphoria began to notice the way he pushed back your hair from your sweat-ridden face, whispering in a language you didn’t understand, and the way he had taken to feeding you your favorite snack while you were still coming to. The way he now came over earlier than ever so that there was sure to be enough time for holding you in his sturdy embrace. No empty promises, just pure action. It was one of your favorite things about him.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Krueger knew his hands held a special place in your mind, in your heart, and, of course, in between your legs. Before you, he hadn’t much liked his hands, being as calloused and blood-stained that they were. To him, they’d partaken in too much death to be worthy of love, but you had adamantly disagreed and had thus taken it upon yourself to prove to him just how wrong he’d been about them. This triggered Krueger to develop an almost-obsession with your mouth, your lips. The worship you would show his hands, taking time to attend each finger, sucking them into the heat of your mouth, had made a believer out of him. When your lips puffed from the pressure, and when the rim of your reddened mouth glistened with saliva, Krueger felt like he’d finally found enlightenment.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

There was something about the act of wasting that rubbed Krueger the wrong way. Maybe it had to do with the food insecurity that plagued his youth, or with constantly being on the move and having no method of holding onto anything, forced to discard useful resources, valued possessions. Regardless of the reason, he just couldn’t stand to see things go to waste. Which might be why he was so intent on ensuring his cum was never reduced to a mere stain on the bed sheets. If his cock was shoved down your throat, Krueger wanted to see you swallow every drop of him then lapped up whatever dribbled down your chin. And if he was buried inside of you, Krueger made certain that his spend stayed right where it should, taking two fingers and pushing back in whatever had leaked out.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

What Krueger wouldn’t ever tell you was that he’d had his eye on you long before you had even realized he existed. The first glimpse he got of you was in the mess. You’d been eating a shitty rehydrated burger, had slathered a pack of mayonnaise on it to make it edible. Just as Krueger intended to avert his gaze, your pink tongue had peeked out of your mouth to lick away a dollop of sauce from your upper lip. It had been an innocent act, yet the visual of your tongue coated in white would not leave his thoughts.

For the next month, he brought himself to release with only his hand and the image of you kneeling before him, jaw loose, mouth agape, eyes up. When he finally decided that he’d had enough, Krueger orchestrated your chance meeting, bumping into your shoulder at the shooting range. To this day, you proudly boasted that you had been the one to make the first move. Krueger saw no need to convince you otherwise.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Casual sex came easy to Krueger; low-stakes, no attachments, just pure biology. Plain, simple, and he was good at it too, if his previous partners were to be believed. Whatever the both of you had, though, transcended casual sex. This realm of intimacy was foreign to him. With regards to the physicality of sex, Krueger had the upper hand, for he was a soldier so in tune with his own body that it had become an instrument, rendering him knowledgeable of the exact strings to pluck in order to make another’s skin hum in pleasure. However, the emotions that this communion of two souls evoked? That was definitely your territory, not his. But there was no one he would rather navigate that unfamiliar terrain with than you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He loved taking you from behind. Against the wall, with your legs spread shoulder-width apart, with his hands fastened to your soft hips, keeping you in place as he eased himself into you, inch by inch. On the bed, with your face pressed into the pillow, with his stare fixated on the arch of your back, palm occasionally smacking your ass to feel how you reflexively clenched upon impact. Bent over the table, with your arms hanging off the edge, with his right leg propped up just enough to allow for the perfect angle, repeatedly hitting the spot he knew unraveled you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

In your opinion, Krueger was hilarious. Some called him unintentionally funny, but you knew that he was well aware of his excellent comedic timing. It wasn’t uncommon for him to utter a sentence so absurd that would, under normal circumstances, make you laugh. But when he was filling you to the brim, the sheer size of him threatening to split you in half, the only noises that could leave your lips were strained moans or unintelligible begs for both more and less. Krueger, however, had no problem laughing at his own jokes during intercourse, and the way your mind scrambled under his ministrations never failed to get an additional chuckle out of him, dark and smug.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Krueger didn’t really think much about body hair, yours or his. It was something natural, so there were very few places that he deliberately trimmed or shaved. Before you’d seen him shirtless, you had anticipated him having an unseemly amount of hair that obscured yet defined his pecs. What you’d discovered spanning the mostly-bare region instead was a tattoo, ink fulfilling the role of hair in how it covered the expanse of skin. In fact, he didn’t have much visible hair anywhere, but the trail of dark blond wisps that thickened as it descended towards the base of him more than made up for what he lacked elsewhere.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

It had taken a couple months for you to break through his hard shell of an exterior, but once you did, he bore himself to you in his entirety. Though this had included unveiling his face, Krueger still opted to wear his mesh hood around you more often than not, which was just fine since you’d grown quite used to it anyway. The easygoing romance you now shared had evolved from your sexual relationship as sweeter moments began to integrate themselves with the preexisting passion. If Krueger had your hands pinned down with his own, he always interlocked your fingers together, and if Krueger had you facing away from him as he ate you out, he caressed the dip of your navel, loving its cushion.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Krueger really, really enjoyed watching you play with yourself. The warmth of your cheeks from exertion, the sheen of sweat that glistened on your skin, the crescendo of moans as you gave up on biting your lip to keep quiet—you were art personified. Your back against the headboard of your too-small bed, knees bent and legs splayed open, putting you on display as two fingers dipped briefly inside to slicken them then swirl your swollen bud.

Meanwhile, Krueger sat only a few feet away on a chair perfectly placed to give him the best view of your wreathing form, stroking his length, tip weeping. And as you both neared completion, only then did Krueger make his way over to the bed and sheathe himself in your wet heat with a single snap of his hips. So that when he finally climaxed, nothing went to waste.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

If there was one thing he couldn’t get enough of, it was how you sometimes raked your nails down his back like a woman possessed. Oh, Krueger loved it when you turned a bit feral, eyes glazed and unseeing, operating on instinct alone. He would rile you up by whispering a suggestive comment or two in your ear when you were both in public, unable to act. Mark me, then I show you off, yes?

This little dance usually culminated in him coming over, lifting you up against the door of your room, and doing whatever he could to draw your claws out. By the end of the night, you had rendered Krueger’s skin a canvas, a masterpiece of angry red lines, overlapping and multidirectional. For the next several days, he took any opportunity to forgo a shirt around the base, just as much staking his claim on you as you on him.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

For Krueger, nothing quite beat getting back from a long mission and taking a nice, hot shower to rinse off all the blood and gore. One day, however, he discovered there was something that could make this even better: you. Steam intertwined with panting breaths, grunts and moans drowned out by ricocheting water, your palm’s vapor impression left on the tiled wall, smearing with each thrust. It became almost like a ritual, holy and sacred, a cleansing of the body and soul after partaking in the worst of sins.

But while the sex was great, the reason these moments were dear to Krueger had no root in venery. It was what came after—how you shut the water off upon realizing that he had been swept into the shadows of his mind, and how you then cradled him to your chest. You stood on the tips of your toes as he dipped lower, the crown of his head nestling under your chin. A perfect fit.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

The adrenaline rush that a battlefield gave Krueger did more than just boost his strength and stamina. Another side effect was how it temporarily put his more carnal desires into overdrive; it was bloodlust in every sense of the word. So maybe that was why the sight of you drenched in the blood of a common foe made his pants feel too tight, too restrictive. Once he’d ensured none of it was yours, concern ebbed away and was replaced by raw need.

En route to the base, he would periodically shift his gaze to look at you through the rear-view mirror, watching how you laughed with the others in the backseat of the Humvee, still high off your recent victory. The splatters of blood on your face had dried a shade of maroon, and the contrasting colors further emphasized your smile, teeth white, incisors sharp. A huntress. Krueger subtly rearranged himself so as to relieve some of the mounting pressure and then diverted his attention to the road ahead, stepping harder on the gas pedal. The sooner you arrived, the sooner he could get his hands on you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Your comrades were under the false impression that Krueger had a thing for choking his sexual partners, that he liked to be in control of how much oxygen you inhaled and how much carbon dioxide you exhaled. They cited his tendency to go for the throat on the battlefield as their evidence, but it was for this very same reason that Krueger would never tighten his hands around your neck, not in the bedroom nor anywhere else; it felt too much like you were the enemy, and he was your executioner. Krueger saw the neck as the embodiment of one’s life source, and he’d sooner turn himself over to the KSK than have any part in snuffing out yours with his war-torn hands.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

That being said, choking on his dick was still fair game. Krueger loved to grab a fistful of your hair and set the pace, slow but unforgiving, urging you to take him deeper, to fit as much of him in your mouth as possible, gag reflex be damned. When your fingernails dug into the meat of his thighs and your nose brushed against tufts of dark blond hair. . . Scheiße. You always did such a good job for him, even when tears welled in your eyes and your jaw began to ache.

He was more than happy to return the favor, pushing you up against the wall, throwing your legs over his shoulders, and lifting the edge of his sniper veil to then descend upon you. With your vision of him obscured, the heightened sensation of being split open by his tongue was all-consuming. The way he circled your clit and sucked the puffy bundle of nerves was almost too much for you to bear, eliciting whines born of overstimulation. As for Krueger, he felt only total peace between your trembling thighs.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

In the beginning, Krueger had treated sex like a means to an end, a rushed entanglement of limbs. Until you, that was how it’d always been for him. The first few weeks of your coupling had reflected that previous mindset of hard and fast, but then there’d been a shift. Sure, rough sex was fun and something you both enjoyed. But the intimacy of being face-to-face, of him removing his veil to allow you to stare into his eyes as he did yours, of witnessing every little reaction, brows furrowed in pleasure, lips parted in bliss—it was sublime. Here at night was where the words that had gone unspoken during the day were finally conveyed through a reunion of flesh and bone. Each stroke a confession, and every clench a reassurance.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Though Krueger loved to take his time with you and show you the care that you deserved, he also loved when the two of you collided in an expression of unbridled passion, fast and easy. There weren’t many places around the base that were suitable for a good quickie, but the supply closet on the way to the briefing room had become somewhat of a frequent spot. Last week, he had felt particularly bold and shoved you into the cramped space right before a meeting.

As soon as the door had clicked shut, Krueger had tugged your pants down to pool at your ankles then pushed your drenched panties to the side, just enough to fuck two fingers into you, clasping his free hand over your mouth to muffle the lewd noises you couldn’t contain. Once sure you could take him, he had pulled out his cock, aligned the tip with your hole, and thrusted forward with such force that you’d had to steady yourself against the wall. By the end of it all, you both had entered the conference only one minute late. And if anyone noticed how your hair was a mess and his fly was down, no one had said a thing.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Occasionally, you and Krueger would agree to stop by a nearby pub with some of the other operators in celebration of a job well done. It was always dimly lit and loud as hell in there, and everyone paid attention to themselves, to who they were speaking with at the table, to what they were drinking. Which gave Krueger the confidence to rest a hand on your thigh, a possessive move that served a dual purpose. While you sipped your drink of choice, his hand migrated beneath your dress, movement abruptly ceasing at the lack of resistance, the lack of obstructive fabric. You knew that, if you could see his eyes, they would be ablaze with lust. Molten.

Krueger quickly recovered, inserting two fingers, knuckle-deep, and the pace he set was torturously slow, halting entirely whenever you neared your peak. When your comrades asked why you looked so flustered, were you ill, Krueger answered on your behalf as you’d been rendered nonverbal by the now three fingers pumping in and out of your weeping cunt. The glare you sent him only made him laugh.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Krueger didn’t use rounds as a metric for sex; rather, he counted your orgasms. The first was usually the handiwork of his fingers, a kind of greeting; the second was with his mouth, kneeling in supplication, seeking to make you more pliable, more relaxed; and the third was on his dick, where you gripped him like a vice as you shook and your eyes rolled back, overwhelmed. Not uncommonly, you would accidentally wake him in the middle of the night by snuggling closer and inadvertently grinding your ass on his growing erection. Thereafter, Krueger could bring you to the brink a fourth time, possibly a fifth, before sleep took hold of you once again.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Originally, Krueger hadn’t seen the use of assistive tools (his words). When he was out in the field, sex became trivial and irrelevant, a distant indulgence meant for a different man. If desire ever arose, he had simply relied on his hand, believing the makeshift fleshlights some of his comrades liked to fuck were obscene.

Walking into your quarters unannounced one night had resulted in him catching sight of you wreathing atop your bed covers with a vibrator pressed against your clit. Your face had burned with embarrassment as you attempted to hide it behind your back, but Krueger had silently grabbed the foreign object before you could get the chance. He had turned it on and off a few times, had watched it buzz to life. Then, he’d crawled onto the bed and picked up where you had left off, your broken keens driving him to the conclusion that perhaps there was some merit to such toys.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

When things got to the point where the two of you were actively tugging at each other’s clothes in the privacy of either your room or his, the time for teasing had passed, in Krueger’s opinion. Yes, the way you begged so prettily, tearing up in frustration when he didn’t immediately do whatever you so desperately wanted, was a magnificent sight, but he wasn’t a very patient man when it came to you.

Before this point, however, Krueger loved a good chase. He liked to give you a head start, to instill in you a false sense of security and the naïve belief that you could somehow outrun him. For ten minutes, he searched for you throughout the compound, though he knew exactly where he’d find you all along. Seeing you scramble from your hiding place in an attempt to make a great escape aroused something primal within him, and he clasped your ankles tightly in his grip, dragging your body closer to him. Krueger, the lion, had caught you, the gazelle, and he was going to spend the next several hours devouring his prize.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Having long since assimilated to the stealth required of a sniper, Krueger wasn’t what you would describe as loud during sex, not even when he climaxed. He did, however, love to talk and thus kept his mouth close by, funneling all the poorly-stifled grunts and groans that you drew from him right into your ear. You had no doubt that Krueger’s filthy words could render the most composed of individuals a blushing mess. How he couldn’t withhold a curse in his native tongue whenever you clenched your walls around him, how he talked you through every blowjob, uncaring of the fact that you were far from a novice at the task. How he whispered his praise then laughed when he realized just a few sweet phrases were enough to have you dripping. So though he wasn’t loud, Krueger never shut up. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Krueger had an eye keener than most, being the excellent marksman that he was. It explained why he could effortlessly pick out each new bruise, cut, and scar that your body acquired, even in the hazy afterglow of sex. Without fail, he could uncover injuries you didn’t remember sustaining and old wounds you’d forgotten about years ago. He would then spend the next half-hour kissing every single one of them while you raked a hand through his dark blond hair. It was sensual, not sexual. It was the epitome of two soldiers bonding over a mutual pain; no judgment, no unnecessary apologies for the havoc that war had wrought. It was a declaration of his intentions to stay and of yours to let him.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

His skin was riddled with tattoos. There was one across his torso, on his shoulder, on his back; symbols. Krueger didn’t like to talk about them, and you figured they were the result of his time in captivity. Memorabilia of his past, an eternal portrait of his suffering. Now it was your turn to trace his markings with your tongue, leaving a trail of hickeys and saliva in your wake, on a mission to etch love into his skin, a companion to the hurt.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Honestly, Krueger’s sex drive had been neither overly high nor abnormally low, just average. When he was in the heat of battle, shooting heavy shotgun shells into bodies-turned-corpses and wiping bloodied knives on his pants in between each throat he slit, the only thing he thought about was his next kill. And when he returned from the fray, adrenaline pumping through hyperactive systems, he took a moment to unwind, stroking himself to a climax, then got right back to business. It was clinical; detached.

Not with you, though. In truth, he couldn’t get enough of you. He was insatiable, but that need also went beyond sex. Being near you was a balm to his soul, your mere presence able to soothe him of a life’s worth of buried ache. Before you, Krueger had never needed anyone other than himself, so he hadn’t quite known how to handle wanting you as much and as often as he did. Never had he experienced a need overlapping with a want, yet here you were, the manifestation of his every desire.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It used to be the case that Krueger refused to allow his mind or his body to slacken in front of you. Slumber signaled that someone was at their most vulnerable, and he knew what happened to those who let their guard down. But with every additional night the two of you shared, he’d been more and more helpless to stop his eyes from fluttering shut sooner and sooner until eventually, he started falling asleep before you, the soft snores that emanated from under his hood serving as your own personal lullaby. The morning after the first time this happened, he had avoided you, furious with himself for such a display of weakness. That night, however, he had again collapsed into your waiting embrace, out like a light.

#sebastian krueger x reader #krueger x reader #sebastian krueger #cod x reader #cod krueger #cod #cod mw #call of duty #modern warfare #my fic

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writingfromasgard · 9 months ago

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Dream a Little Dream [Price] SFW

[Masterlist] || Requests are Open

gif by Shadow0-1

Weariness bleeds into John's bones, threatening to touch the scrap of a soul he has left. The doorknob turns, prompting the creak that he swears he has to fix every few months. It goes well with the floorboards that mimic the noise when his boots weigh down on them. His head lets go of that soldier's mask he wears in his day-to-day, a softer role takes its place.

His eyes fall on your body, sprawled out on the king-sized mattress with his pillow clutched to your chest. The buzzing of the fan on your side table covers the rustling of his clothes while he wrestles with the guilt of seeing his intelligent, beautiful wife alone in bed, desperately clinging to something of his.

His hand hovers over your shoulder, soft rhythm of your breathing making him hesitate. He guides you onto your back, listening to you sleepily protest while he tries to pry the pillow out of your arms. He can't resist the reverent urge to kiss your pouting lips.

You stir at the touch of his lips, a soft murmur leaving you. John watches your eyes flutter open with a growing soft smile, a sparkle of happiness in his eyes.

"Hey, doll." He whispers, tenderness seeping into his voice. He presses his next kiss to your forehead, enjoying the sleepy protest you give when his beard tickles your skin.

"Came back to me in one piece?" You question, eyelids drooping again.

"A bruise or two. Nothin' I can't handle." He lets you reach for his cheek, concern in your eyes as you turn his face one way then the other. "It's m' leg, doll. My pretty face was spared."

He kisses your thumbpad when it brushes over his lips, your eyes closing for a second longer than they should. He chuckles, guiding your hand to lay at your side. He tugs the blanket down your body. He drags his hand from your hip to your chest, cupping one breast. It causes you to stir again, eyes barely open.

He opens his mouth to speak, "I'm sorry I was away longer than I promised."

"Did y' miss me?" Your sleep idled words slur.

"More than anything." John's heart squeezes in his chest, the idea he could ever not miss you when he was away hurts.

He watches the corner of your mouth twitch upward for a moment, knowing you must be exhausted. He gets to his feet, rounding the bed with his pillow in his arms. The metal bed frame creaks under him as he slips in beside you, one arm tucked under his pillow. He hooks his other arm across your midsection, dragging you closer to him.

Your body's warm sinks into his aching bones, spreading over each one like a balm. He shifts lower, burning his face in the crook of your neck. His fingers trace lazy patterns after sneaking under your shirt. He starts syncing his breathing to yours, letting that ground him until sleep takes hold.

#captain john price #call of duty #john price x you #john price x reader #captain john price x you #captain john price x reader #john price #task force 141

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sixleggedboar · 1 year ago

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Commission for @shadow0-1!

#cod #call of duty #commission #other peoples ocs #kate laswell #jackie ramirez

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evilwy · 1 year ago

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Commission for @shadow0-1 💞

Tysm for commissioning me

#jax is so cool it was nice to draw him #evilwy art #digital art #art commisions #commissions #comission #commission #commisions open #open commissions #commissions open #comm

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rascal-xo · 2 years ago

Note

Hear me out ghost walking in into the reader holding soap in a leg head lock while laying on their stomach and taking selfies 😭😭😭😭😭😭

War and Cookies | Soap MacTavish x Reader |

Summary: Johnny is tonight’s big loser…

Warnings: Incredibly cheesy 😭 not proofread

Tags: @glitteryeggalmondherring @fiveshelmet @madamemelancholysstuff @myguiltypleasures21 @pukbadger @emmaadlerrichtofen1

A/N: I wrote this after taking the most delectable nap so I hope you enjoy 😤

Gif Credits: @shadow0-1

"MacTavish, you son of a bitch!" You gasped, unable to believe the atrocity that just unfolded. Johnny had just stolen the last chocolate chip cookie from out of your hand, as you sat at the break room island minding your business.

The audacity! Fuelled by a mixture of shock and a quite frankly hunger, you sprung into action, determined to reclaim what was rightfully yours.

You weren't about to let him get away with this. Determination fueled your movements as you leaped forward, reaching out for the tantalizing treat. But Soap was quick, darting to the side and leaving you grasping at thin air. “You’re gonna have to be quicker than that, Lass!” He called out.

Finally, you saw your opening. Soap made a swift turn into the open training room, his attention momentarily diverted as he checked over his shoulder. Seizing the opportunity, you lunged forward, tackling him to the ground with a mighty grunt.

You both crashed onto the padded floor, limbs flailing in a whirlwind of chaos. Laughter erupted from both of you as you wrestled for the precious cookie. “Just give me the cookie Johnny and no one has to get hurt here.” You coo, holding his arms over his head. Oh so close to the precious cookie.

Johnny, pinned beneath you, laughed heartily, his chest rising and falling with each chuckle. "Oh, Y/N, you're not getting it that easily!" he exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

With a sly grin on your face, you swiftly maneuvered your body, using all your might to put him into a headlock.

Soap's eyes widened in surprise as your arm wrapped around his neck, and he sputtered, "Hey, wait a minute! No fair!"

"Fair? This is war, MacTavish!" you exclaimed, trying to keep a straight face while asserting your dominance. "The cookie will be mine!"

As you neared the cookie, your fingers trembled with anticipation. It was so close, yet still out of reach. Soap, determined not to let go but instead do the unthinkable.

You stared at Soap in disbelief as he took a large bite out of the cookie you had just fought so hard to reclaim. Your jaw dropped, and your eyes widened in shock. "Johnny! You... you ate the cookie?"

Soap grinned mischievously, crumbs sprinkling down his chin and chocolate smeared onto his face. "Oh, I guess I did," he said, his voice laced with amusement. "Couldn't resist, you know?"

You couldn't help but burst into laughter, realizing the absurdity of the situation. “What? something on my face?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I have got to get a picture of this.” You spoke in between laughter.

Still chuckling, you kept Soap in a gentle headlock, restraining his movements while you fumbled for your phone in your pocket. With determination in your eyes, you managed to retrieve it, ready to capture the hilarious moment.

"Hold still, Johnny," you said through your giggles, angling the camera on your phone. "This chocolate-covered face of yours deserves to be immortalized."

Soap, his face a comical mixture of confusion and resignation, tried to wipe the chocolate off his face with his free hand. But you held him firmly, ensuring that the evidence of his mischievous cookie indulgence remained intact.

"Just a little more, and... got it!" you exclaimed triumphantly, snapping the selfie with Soap in your headlock, his face adorned with chocolate smears. Both of you burst into another fit of laughter, the joy of the moment echoing through the room.

But just as you were about to review the picture, a familiar voice boomed from the doorway, interrupting the mirthful scene. You both sprung your necks up in shock seeing your Lieutenant in such a manner.

He stared down at both of his soldiers on the ground with zero emotion, one in a headlock and the other straddling the others neck with a phone to their face.

“L.T!” You exclaimed. Soap tried to contain his laughter, miserably failing.

Ghost held up a hand, stopping either of you from speaking any further and turned around, walking right back out of the room.

“He looks like he’s seen a Ghost.” Johnny laughed, doubling over as soon as you released him.

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