callmecoke

[callmecoke]

Tough Anesthetics

John Price, Kyle Garrick, Simon Riley, John Mactavish, Konig, Keegan Russ, Nikto

⚠️WARNINGS⚠️: nothing but fluff

Captain John Price:

They wheel John up to the passenger side door and load him up. He’s clearly confused as he looks over the interior of the car, and then his eyes land on you. He’s in awe. Slack-jawed and laser focused, John stares you down.

“How you feelin’, Honey?”

His pupils dilate. “Honey?” He’s smitten, all his dreams are coming true. The beautiful woman in the car next to him is smiling at him and calling him honey.

“Yes, that’s you, John.” You reach over and brush his knuckles.

“I’m your honey.”

“You’re my honey.” He doesn’t recoil from the cheesiness, only turns to the windshield with an enchanted gaze.

“Thank you, for letting me be your honey.” At the sound of your laughter, John looks back at you and doesn’t look away until you make it home.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick:

Kyle is staring at the IV stuck in his forearm, growing more delirious by the second. He’s going in for surgery to remove the metal plates on his previously broken collarbone.

“Doin’ okay?” You ask once you notice the faraway look in his eyes.

When Kyle looks up at you he’s so out of it he doesn’t recognize you, but he wants to. “This is going to sound crazy, but do you want to go out some time?”

“Why would that be crazy?”

“Because we’ve just met.”

You snort, “Maybe but I’ll take my chances.”

“Great, I know this really great pub or there’s this Thai restaurant down the street from my place…” His eyes lose their focus and he leans back on the bed. The nurses giggle to themselves as they start to maneuver the bed.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get love-boy back to you in one piece so you can go on that date.” One of the nurse’s winks as she notices you twisting your wedding ring around your finger. You give Kyle a parting kiss to the temple and he dopily smiles back.

John “Soap” MacTavish:

“You’re so beautiful.”

“Thank you, John.”

“I mean it. I wanna marry you.”

“We are married.”

“We are?”

“We are.”

Johnny is positively ecstatic. It’s like the best day of his life (his wedding day) all over again. He can’t fathom that he’s actually married you and begs you for reassurance. “You really mean it.”

“You got me this ring, John, had your initials engraved on it.”

He clings to you the entire trip home from the hospital and almost cries when you pull your arm away to get out of the car.

“You can’t leave me after all this time together.” He wails, slumping in his seat in grief.

You circle around the car and open the door, “Not leaving you, just trying to get you into my house you big lug.”

“Your bed?”

“Whatever you want, just get inside.”

He’s promptly latching onto you again as you guide him into your home.He later falls asleep with a death grip around your wrist and his ring finger (the one with his matching wedding band) against his lips.

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

It’s dead quiet in your apartment as you and Simon engage in a high stakes staring contest. He’s woken up on your couch (because he flat out refused to take your bed) and can’t seem to figure out who you are or where he is.

“My girlfriend won’t be happy about this.”

“Won’t she.”

“No, ‘m no’ supposed t’ be in another woman’s house.” He’s completely rigid, tucked into the corner of the sofa.

“I’m sure she won’t mind.”

“Don’t even…love her so much I wouldn’t even dream o’ leavin’.”

“She’ll be pleased to hear that.”

“She will, always so happy t’ see me.”

“Are you happy to see her?”

“Every time… Every time.” He’s losing touch with reality again and curls back up to doze off. “Tell her I’ve been lookin’ for her. Miss her so much.”

Once he’s knocked out again, brush back a few of his blond curls and kiss his forehead.

Konig:

German gibberish. He almost sounds like a grumbling bear, huffing and puffing while trying to wake himself up. It’s not until his eyes land on you that he startles and reaches for his face. Both hands run over his cheeks and sweep up through his hair- his mask is gone. He feels naked and hideous and there’s a gorgeous woman sitting beside him and smiling at him.

“I washed it, your mask, nurses said you can put it back on when you get discharged.”

Konig’s wide eyes never leave you, in fact he’s pushed himself to the farthest side of the bed while giving you the foulest side eye. It only gets worse when you start laughing at him. As the drugs wear off he becomes prone to flirting with you. Most of it happens in German so you only catch bits and pieces. He keeps reaching for his face, eyes darting anywhere but on you. You notice a blush creeping up his neck and over the tops of his ears. Occasionally, he glances at your lips and puckers his own subconsciously.

“See something you like?”

“You.” He states resolutely.

“You gonna do something about it?”

“Maybe… if I can get you home, maybe…”

Keegan Russ:

He likes to think he’s sneaky, and he kind of is, even on drugs. He wants to watch you from afar. Keep an eye on you so nothing bad happens. You keep losing track of him, his expertise in camouflage irritatingly efficient in the tiny scale of your home. Occasionally you’ll feel the pierce of his gaze and look up from whatever you’re doing to find that he has seemingly vanished into thin air.

“How is he doing this?” You mutter as you begin the search for him. You pick up a blanket thrown on the floor and begin folding it when you see them, his bright blue eyes lurking in the doorway of your shared bedroom. How did I not notice him? You startle and freeze up.

“Keegan! What are you doing up?”

“Checking the perimeter.”

“Just… watchin’ you.”

“Come lay down.” He obeys, shakily sauntering over to the sofa where he lays stiff as a board. You pull the blanket over him and brush a knuckle over his cheek.”Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Cause you’re cute.” He blanches as the words tumble out of his mouth.

“Can’t you think I’m cute from right here instead of wherever you hide.”

“But–but,” he curls under the blanket, “I love you.” His tone changes as he loses his train of thought and settles on the one thing that seems to be a constant in his brain.

Nikto:

Another quiet one, except he trails after you like a duckling everywhere you go. His gate is uneven and uncareful, stomping around behind you as the drugs wear off. He leans on you as you study a recipe book or as you carefully dump ingredients into the mixer.

“Where are you going? It's not safe.” He reaches out for you as you escape his grasp to get another cup of flour.

“We’re in our own apartment, baby, nothing bad is gonna happen.”

“We’re not in… not in… where are we?”

“Home. You’re at home with me, not in the field.”

He scans the kitchen, the apartment, before looking back at you. “Got to keep you safe.” He tucks you against his chest again and drags his feet behind you.

“I’m safe.”

“I’ll make sure of it.”

“You already have, take a break and go lay down.”

“No…No, you’re too important. Love you too much.” His accent is thicker than usual and only gets worse as he mutters in Russian under his breath. At this point you can’t understand a thing he says with your limited Russian vocabulary and his delirious speeches. Once you get your treats in the oven you drag him to bed in hopes of finally getting him to sleep off the last of his medication. And he does, with you squished between him and the mattress.

Dear Reader,

Thank you for making it this far. I hope you enjoyed this fic. If you like what you’ve read go ahead a check out my masterlist. If you can find anything of interest there feel free to request something. Thank you have a nice day.

-the author

[callmecoke]

You were facing the wall.

Arms tucked close to your chest, your back turned toward the door, and a blanket pulled up to your chin even though it wasn’t cold. Your eyes were wide open. You weren’t even trying to sleep. The light from the hallway bled under the crack in the door, and every time it shifted, your breath caught, half-hoping, half-dreading that it was him.

He’d left without another word. You’d told him to sleep on the couch, and he didn’t argue. Just looked at you for a moment, his lips pressed into that hard line he always got when he was trying not to say something he’d regret. And then he walked out.

That was almost an hour ago.

You blinked slowly, eyes stinging. You hated fighting with him. Hated the way it left your chest tight and your mind buzzing. You hated the silence afterward even more. And this time… you weren’t even sure who was more in the wrong.

The fight started with something stupid. It usually did. You’d asked him why he hadn’t texted back when you messaged him earlier in the day—just a casual check-in, nothing serious. He said he’d been busy. You said you understood, but something about your tone made it obvious you didn’t. And then he said, “It’s not always about you,” and you froze.

It wasn’t just the words. It was the way he said them, like you’d been a burden instead of someone he missed. Like he didn’t have space for you in his head that day, and you were wrong for noticing it.

You’d snapped and told him if he didn’t want to talk to you, he could’ve just said that. Told him you weren’t going to beg him for attention. He looked at you like he wanted to speak but didn’t, and you’d finally said it.... go sleep on the couch, Simon, because you didn’t know what else to say that wouldn’t hurt more.

And he left.

Now you were here, pretending the pillow was more comfortable than his chest, replaying the words in your head until they lost all their meaning. You hadn’t even told him goodnight. And he hadn’t told you he loved you, not like he always did before bed.

Your throat tightened. You blinked at the wall again, trying to will yourself not to cry, not now when you’d already said your piece, already told him to leave. You didn’t want to be the one to break first. But still, your chest ached in that way that only came when something between you felt wrong.

A floorboard creaked somewhere outside the bedroom. Then silence came, a pause just long enough to make you question if you’d even heard anything at all.

And then—

The door creaked open slowly.

You stayed still. You didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to seem too eager, didn’t want him to think you’d just forget everything because he came back. But your heart betrayed you, picking up speed the moment you heard his quiet footsteps on the carpet. Then the bed dipped behind you, before his arm wrapped around your waist, fast like he was afraid you’d push him away if he didn’t do it quick.

You didn’t.

“I know you’re awake,” he said quietly, his breath brushing against the back of your neck.

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

“I thought about what you said.” His voice was low and soft. “And I thought about what I said. And I didn’t come back to fight. I just... I needed you to hear this.”

He paused, exhaling slowly.

“I fucked up,” he admitted. “I was tired and distracted, and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. You didn’t do anything wrong. You were just lookin’ for me and I made you feel like you were too much.”

Your eyes burned. Still, you didn’t speak.

“I never want you to feel that way,” he murmured. “Not ever. Not when you text me, not when you talk to me, not when you just exist near me. You’re not a burden. You’re… you’re the best part of my day, and I treated you like you weren’t. I’m sorry, love.”

You felt his hand squeeze your side gently, like he was grounding himself just as much as he was trying to comfort you.

“I meant what I said before I left,” he added, “but I meant it wrong. It’s not always about you, but it should be. You’re my person. I should’ve answered you. I should’ve checked in. You have every right to need me.”

You blinked hard, finally managing to whisper, “I wasn’t trying to fight.”

“I know,” he said, his voice cracking a little. “I know, love. You were just tryin’ to connect. And I shut down on you. I let shit get in my head and I pushed you out. I won’t do that again.”

You turned slowly, finally facing him. His eyes met yours in the dim light, and god, he looked wrecked.

“I just missed you,” you whispered. “That’s all.”

He reached up and cupped your face gently. “I missed you too. More than I can say. And I don’t want to end a single fuckin’ day with you wonderin’ if I care. I do. So much.”

You leaned in, tucking your face against his neck. His arms wrapped around you fully now, pulling you in close, holding you tight like he’d fall apart if he didn’t, before his lips pressed against your hair.

“I’m not goin’ back to the couch,” he said softly. “Even if you ask again. I’ll sleep on the floor next to you before I ever leave you like that again.”

That made you laugh, just a little.

“Sorry I got mean,” you mumbled.

He smiled into your hair. “You weren’t mean. You were hurt. And I made you feel that way. I deserved it.”

You looked up at him, eyes searching his face. “You’re really good at this. Talking about it. Most guys just shut down.”

“I used to,” he admitted. “Didn’t fix a damn thing. I’d rather talk and hold you than be right.”

You snorted. “You were wrong though.”

He grinned. “I know. Fully aware of it.”

You finally let your body relax fully against him, tension leaving piece by piece as he kissed your forehead and whispered, “Still love you, even when we fight. Especially then.”

“I love you too,” you murmured.

And you meant it. Even when it was hard. Even when things got messy. Because he came back. Because he chose to come back and say the things that mattered. Not everyone did.

But Simon did. And that was enough.

----------------------------------------

@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @akkahelenaa @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @wraith-bravo6 @tessakate @xocandyy @nightfwn @robinfeldt98 @xiisblogs @mad-die45 @readingthingy @actualpoppy @amongthe141 @whore4romance @thatghostlykid @syofrelief @avgdestitute @sheepdogchick3 @echo9821 @imalapdog @foxintheferns @trulovekay @preeyas-world @ruleroftides @rose37373

[callmecoke]

König headcanons!

.⁠｡⁠* He probably has a rubber ducky at home, cuz he randomly got it for free and now he lowkey enjoys having it.

.⁠｡⁠* He probably is scared to talk to children because he thinks he scares them but he really likes lil kids.

.⁠｡⁠* He fears he would scare any woman who decides to love him away.

.⁠｡⁠* He struggles with self-image (it's canon lol) but he also thinks he doesn't deserve love.

.⁠｡⁠* He is definitely not a picky-eater and maybe has mediocre cooking skills for survival.

[callmecoke]

18+ only please and thank you

Gaz who won’t let you jerk off in peace.

It’s not that you don’t like having sex with him, it’s just that it’s been months since his last deployment, and it feels like forever since you got to connect with your body on your own terms.

You just want to explore yourself again, that’s all. He's been taking good care of you, but you want to take care of you. You want to take your time with yourself, lingering on the most sensitive angles that only you can find. It hits the spot sometimes to just lay back, relax, and get yourself off again like the old days.

But miserably, you’ve been getting home at the same time as him for weeks, and it’s made it nearly impossible to be alone. This weekend, though, you're determined. You're going to make it happen, one way or another. You're going to get that solo wank if it's the last thing you do.

But it seems like as soon as you’ve fully attached yourself to the plan, your boyfriend is suddenly an inescapable force of observance.

All of a sudden he wants your in-depth advice on vacation ideas, following you around the house like a lost duckling. He even turns down drinks with his mates, which is absolutely unheard of, just to spend incredibly inconvenient time with you.

The one weekend you want him gone, and he's become the most constantly around person imaginable, much to your irritation.

It’s absolutely unfair. There’s nothing wrong with wanting a private wank, and you shouldn’t have to feel like you’re sneaking around to get it. But every time you think you've gathered your courage enough to ask, you'll look over at him and he’ll just be standing there, so cute and seeming so happy to be near you, so you don't ask.

You don't ask, and you don't wank.

You start withdrawing from his hugs and touches, hoping it'll put off your the usual weekend fuck, because you just know it'll suck all the satisfaction out of your wank. You can't ask, but you can't seem to let it go either, because it's somehow become a need. An actual, emotional need for something that shouldn't matter that much, but it does. It matters that you aren't getting time to yourself when you need it.

The hours continue to pass, until you find yourself in the last afternoon of your weekend, and you swear he hasn't sat his ass down away from you all day.

You touch yourself a little bit in the bathroom, desperately hoping it'll be good enough, and you'll be able to just get it over with and go back to normal.

But it's not good. It's rushed and anxious and completely unenjoyable, so you give up before you even manage to get yourself wet.

And of course, as soon as you've washed your hands and stepped out of the bathroom, that man is right there waiting for you. You can't help the flicker of annoyance on your face when you spot him sitting there on the corner of the bed.

"Um, I think I'm going to..." You pause, picking up your car keys from the dresser, but then setting them back down. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe I'll stay home. Do you need to go anywhere? Run any, um, errands?"

Kyle frowns at the suspicious, hopeful blinks you're throwing in his direction. "Not particularly."

Unconsciously your fingers grab hold of your keys again, and you only realize you're doing it when his eyes follow the movement.

"Oh, okay," you ramble, shoving your keys away, and feeling like you suddenly don't know what to do with your hands. "You gonna... pop round to see your mum today?"

Kyle stands up slowly, openly eyeing your nervous body language. Your gaze wanders to the dresser because you can't stand to look at him, can barely think past the haze of repressed feelings and self denial and the deception. It's not fair, it's not fair. When will you get what you need?

“D’you want to see other people?” he finally asks.

Instantly your eyes snap up to his face, to the pained expression he’s failing to hide.

“Like, open the relationship or something?" he continues in that too-calm voice. "If you haven’t been satisfied lately, then we can talk about—“

“Kyle, no. What the fuck? No.”

He visibly sets his jaw. “Then what is it? Cause if we’re breaking up—“

“God, shut up! Just shut up for a second. Oh, god."

You start giggling before you can stop it, not because anything is funny, but because you're incredibly nervous. He still looks so worried, and it's still so hard to say, but you might as well just spill your guts at this point because the giggling is making things worse.

“I just wanted to, um, m-masturbate, um by myself, because we just have sex now whenever I’m horny, and I haven’t got to do it in a while. Without you, I mean. All by myself. Oh, god, this is so stupid."

Another giggle slips out, and you’re braced for his hurt feelings, maybe a rare bit of anger poking through the surface.

But instead he suddenly lets out a barking laugh. “That’s it?? You’ve been torturing me all weekend just cause you needed some alone time?”

"It's not funny, Kyle." Nevermind that you're failing to suppress more nervous laugher.

"Oh my god." He wipes his hand over his face, seeming utterly dumbfounded. “Oh my god, what a relief.”

And then your boyfriend spins around all dramatic, and flattens himself against the wall, laughing obnoxiously with his head buried in his arms.

“A fuckin’ wank.” Comes his incredulous voice, half muffled by his forearm. “Just... wanted a wank. All that for a wank."

“You’re being annoying,” you mutter. “And I still haven’t got my wank, thank you very much.”

"You're right." Kyle straightens right up, looks you dead in the eye, and smiles. "And you're gonna get it right now."

"Ha ha, very funny."

"Look at me." He takes one step towards you, pointing a finger at his suddenly grave expression. "I'm fuckin' serious. We're getting you that wank."

The idiot takes you by the hand -- you're incapacitated with giggles, by the way -- and leads you straight to the bed, helping you up onto it as if he was your personal masturbation chauffeur.

"You stay there," he instructs you, only to scurry off and quickly return with your water bottle and your phone.

"For hydration--" holds up the water bottle-- "for visual aids--" holds up the phone-- "for moral support--" leans down and kisses you straight on the mouth.

"Baby, I love you."

"I love you too. I'm gonna go pop off to the shop so you'll have no distractions. You stay there, and please for the love of god, tell me the next time you need a wank."

"You're the best!" you call after him, tucking yourself into the blankets.

"Yes I am."

Soon the place is quiet and still, and it's just you in your fluffy bed, wonderfully, deliciously alone.

You starfish your limbs out in the sheets, once you're good and naked. Let all the fabric drag against your bare skin and sigh happily.

You are happy. You're so happy with Kyle.

It's a good wank, too. You get out your vibrator, and find exactly the visual aids that you want, and you let yourself savor the buildup, without any reason to hide what you're doing.

Soon your brain turns to mush and you cum in your nice comfy bed, cradled in the sheets that smell like your boyfriend. It's lovely. It's wonderful. You click off your sex toy and catch your breath with your fingers pressed tight to your clit, basking in that gooey warmth as long as you're able.

And then you miss him. Like, instantly, as soon as you're done cumming. You miss Kyle.

You should be gratefully taking advantage of his absence to be alone in the bed, maybe grab a few more orgasms for yourself, but instead you find yourself snatching up your phone. You scan through the last few texts he's sent you, imagining hearing them in his voice.

Fuck it. Might as well just call him.

"Alright?" he answers after a few rings.

"Yeah, I'm all finished. You can come back now."

There's a laugh on the other end of the line that makes you smile from ear to ear. "I haven't finished my shopping."

"Okay, but hurry back if you can."

"You missing me, baby?"

Another smile. "Yes. A little."

"Ahh, well. Just a little isn't too bad, I've got a list."

You half laugh, half growl at him. "Come back, please."

"On my way."

It does seem like he's immediately on his way, because he returns so quickly, you imagine he just set down his basket right there and fled the store. You've been too relaxed and lazy boned to even put away your vibrator, but you're so happy to see him that you sit up naked in bed and reach out your arms for him to join you.

That man's face. He's getting worse and worse at hiding how much he likes you.

It just takes one look, one second of having him wrapping his arms around you in a reunion hug, before you're suddenly, violently horny again.

Good news, he's right on board with that idea. Soon you're both tugging his clothes off, and he's tucking himself into the sheets with you, his fingers finding you already so wet and welcoming from your time apart.

This is what your body wants. It's a dumb animal that wants to feel safe, and get the things it needs, and it especially wants him. All of him. His tongue in your mouth, his happy sounds mixing with yours, his cock inside you after you manhandle him onto his back.

You want to ride him. Give him a chance to lay back and relax, and give you a chance to take care of your man who takes care of you. You smile down at him while you bounce on his dick, feeling that familiar stirring of emotion in the top of your throat.

He belongs to you. You want him forever.

It has you going slower, stroking your hand up his body, across his jaw. Feeling and memorizing, and accepting him as yours while you grind his cock in and out.

"Kyle." You're not expecting your voice to crack, so you swallow and try again. "Kyle, I love you so much."

"I love you too, sweetheart."

"Do you want to get married?"

It slips out before you can stop it, before you can cut yourself off or pretend it was a joke, or do anything but inhale in nervous shock.

Kyle's blinking up at you with an equally surprised look on his face, holding your hips tighter than he was before, until you stop moving.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, "I didn't mean--"

"Stop it." Something deadly serious has settled over his face, and he pushes you up and off him in one careful motion.

Shit, fuck, why did you say it? Why did you have to ruin everything?

"Forget I said that, we don't have to get married, I don't even know why I said that--"

He's pushing you off him, throwing his legs over the side of the bed to get away.

"Kyle, please--"

"Shut up! Just shut up." Your boyfriend quickly fumbles his hand around in his bedside table drawer, and then retrieves a...

Jewelry box.

"Oh my god," you whisper, clapping your hand to your mouth.

"I was gonna... That is, I was planning on something else, sometime next month, but..."

"Oh my god," you repeat, relieved tears suddenly stinging your eyes.

"Feels a bit stupid to do it like this, when we're halfway through a fuck, but lord knows I can't reason with you once you've got it in your head that I hate you, so. Will you marry me?"

He starts to sink down like he's about to belatedly get on a knee, but like an animal suddenly untethered, you're already launching yourself at him.

"YES!" you squeal, swinging your arms around his shoulders and giggling like an insane person while you take him halfway to the ground.

You both can't stop laughing after that, especially when he's shaking so much he can barely get the ring on your finger. It's a beautiful, sparkly one, just like you always imagined.

Somehow, between kisses and excited whispers, you both make it back to the bed. He gets you under him and twines your fingers together next to your head, the hand that's now bearing the ring he'd hidden away for you.

And then he fucks you, nice and slow, until his shaking has vanished. That man kisses you like you're precious, keeps pulling back to look into your eyes and smile, like you're the most wonderful thing he's ever seen.

And he keeps fucking you like that, slowly grinding himself into you, keeping your hand in his.

"You gonna be my wife?"

"Uh huh."

"We're getting married, baby."

"I know, I'm so happy."

"I'm so happy, too."

[callmecoke]

I think that boyfriend!gaz would monitor your mental health by paying close attention to the types of songs you’re listening to. he tried his hardest to give you privacy when it comes to your emotions, but if he’s heard you play “waiting room” by Phoebe Bridgers or “Not Strong Enough” by Boy Genius on repeat as you have a shower or doing your skincare routine he’s bound to check in with you to make sure you’re feeling alright. he doesn’t mean to pry, truly. he’s just worried that he’s missed something, that you’re ruminating on something important. when his kind eyes meet yours and his thumb traces your sweet lips he feels the wobble and sighs, pecking your forehead as he pulls you closer to him. the embrace usually evokes a confession of sorts, a dumping ground for the turmoil your head had put you through. he loves you through it, soothing circles being rubbed into your back.

[callmecoke]

“You’re mine. You belong to me.” overrated, boring, tiresome, vaguely misogynistic undertones. -5/10

“I’m yours. I belong to you.” new, exciting, thrilling, beautiful, man who respects women, soft femdom coded, 10/10

[callmecoke]

Soap who's never felt obligated to commit to any relationship spends months looking for the perfect ring to propose with, scared that you'll say no if he doesn't have the perfect ring

[callmecoke]

Price doesn't bring you around the guys so obviously they don't believe you exist. One day he shows simon pictures of the island you share to play palworld together knowing no one will believe him and deleting the photos so there's no more proof

[callmecoke]

This going straight into the drafts but my mildly unpopular opinion is that I think it’s fair when people complain about 90% of cod fics being the same cookie cutter content of subfem dom ghost content that’s mildly mysoginistic and is just a carbon copy of the smut that came before it.

And it’s not saying that those fics are (entirely) bad, they can be completely fine when the mood strikes but if you’re looking for any alternative kinks, or comfort fluff, or angst-comfort, or angst, or literally any other cod character that isn’t the top four (ghost, konig, price, soap) you’re pretty much left with scraps.

And whenever people complain about it, it’s met with a dismissive “well why don’t YOU write those fics? Writers don’t owe you anything, you selfish prick!” Which A, rude, and B, we ARE.

I consistently try and make the content I personally want to see more of. More sub characters, different characters that aren’t the same four, more angst and comfort, more fluff. And I get lucky if I break 100 notes because that content is pushed to the bottom of the bucket. But my poly 141 stuff? The smut with soap? My top posts of all time. You know, the ones that I didn’t put actual effort into and spat out on a phone.

And ultimately, I don’t want to be doing this forever. I write this so that one day someone else will get inspired to do it and I can step back and read something I enjoy. But no one’s doing that because the work isn’t valued as much as “big scary ghost dominates small fem reader” smut. And it’s tiring. Because that’s not the content I want to make, but anything else will be left out as scraps that no one will eat.

[callmecoke]

I just loveeeee the sincerity of conversations after sex or during the sex

like after sex you are lying there trying to breathe properly and he comes out of the bathroom with a towel in hand and casually goes just as he wipes the cum off your ass

"did ya see the video?"

"what video?"

"two muppets got caught sneaking up a phone in base. price got 'em real good. smashed their head into each otha when they were broadcasting. i don't know-it's instagram or somthin'."

you nod enthusiastically and snort "soap sent to me. was too violent for me to watch. he thinks it was funny though."

he chuckles just as he strokes the redness on your ass. "you handle violent just fine"

or like you are in the middle of it, bouncing on him with all you've got and he says

"i don't like it when you don't call."

and you just freeze because what the hell he could have had this conversation around the time when he decided to watch football. so you ask, trying to comprehend.

"what?"

he simply shrugs and tightens his arms around you.

"makes me sad when you don't call."

"i-i don't know what to say."

"can't say hi?"

and it makes you wonder what happened to the man you fucked in the early days of your not-a-relationship-just-fucking thing because ghost didn't even moan let alone talking.

this one is simon you suppose.

sorry, wish my english was better and i knew anything about english accent. 😭

[callmecoke]

Phillip Graves' comfort sex (GNver!)

Cw: depression, comfort sex, use of the word “daddy”, its just wholesome. Crying (from emotions) during sex. PRAISE. The fluffiest smut ever written. 

I felt bad that the last version I did wasn't actually gender-neutral despite tagging it as such, so i rewrote it here! I hope this is more enjoyable for everyone!

Phillip knew you were having a really shitty week, with the way your eyes were downcast and the smile you forced when you tried to reasure him that everything was fine. He wasn’t that stupid. He knew that faraway look of yours, where you stare off into a spot and your mind has travelled to some distant place, away from all the stress and grief. 

He always does his best to help you as much as he can. Gives you space, cuddles, love, all the affection you could desire. He’d whisper into your ear all the reassurances in the world that you were loved and valued. Sometimes it would work, just him being there, caring. But sometimes, the glint in your eye wouldn't fully spark. So, he knew he had to show other ways he cared in a more physical, real manner.

He had you on your back, mewling with his cock nice and snug in that tight hole he loved while he leaned over you. His hips thrusted in a deep rhythm, letting you feel each ridge and vein along his shaft as it entered you again and again. He panted over you, his heated breath fanning over your lips as he had his toned chest pressed against yours, as physically close as he could be to you.

Each forward tilt of his hips drove a deep whimper from your mouth, a moan spilling out as the head of his cock grazed up against your clutching insides.

“That’s it, baby, you're doing so good.” He panted, groaning out as he focused on fucking his swelling cock deep into you. “My good baby... Fuck, so good.”

He lifted one of his legs up and firmly placed it on the mattress, giving him the leverage to piston his cock faster against you, the mushroom tip of his cock hitting against your sensitive spot with pinpoint accuracy, causing you to jolt and close your eyes, tiling your head to the side with a loud audible cry.

Graves gently, but with an urgency, cradled your face with his hand and brought it back to look at him, pressing his lips firmly against your own in a desperate, seething kiss.

“No no, look at me,” He said between kisses. “Don’t take your eyes of me, okay sweetie?”

You continued to moan and whimper as he fucked into you, his hips ruthless but his hands and lips so tender and full of yearning. “I…I can’t…” You tried to capture words between whimpers but couldn’t find them between the love and the searing pleasure. Tears welled up in your eyes and spilled down your cheeks, which Graves caught with the pad of his thumb as he rubbed them away.

“I know, baby, I know.” His voice was almost cracking as he spoke, the emotions and approaching orgasm stumbling his speech. “I got you, okay? Daddy’s here. Daddy’s got you.”

The tender sweetness of his words spurred on your desperately aching heat, and the tightness in your stomach coiled tightly. He felt the walls tighten around him, and he knew it was coming. In the same way, he knew his own orgasm was brewing. He quickened his pace subconsciously, moaning loudly into your mouth as he held your lips in his. He wanted to whisper more and tell you that he loved you, tell you that everything was going to be okay. But the words were lost when he opened his mouth and a gutteral groan escaped as he reached his peak, his cum erupting in strips inside you. But his pace only continued as he eagerly tried to get you to that peak.

“Let go baby…Fuck.” He said shakily, the sensitivity of his orgasm faltering his words.

“Fuck…Graves!” You cried out holding him as close as you could get to him before the chord snapped and your orgasm rushed over you, your entrance clenching and uncleching around his softening cock in rythm with your heartbeat.

Everything paused for a moment, and you both did not move an inch, only allowing yourselves to pant with your foreheads pressed together. No words were spoken past then as you two held each other, and as the two slept the rest of the night until morning, you felt calm. Any stress or depression in your body had left to make room for the tender love you two had for each other.

[callmecoke]

Phillip Graves x fem reader smut

Cw: depression, comfort sex, use of the word “daddy”, its just wholesome. Crying (from emotions) during sex. PRAISE. The fluffiest smut ever written. 

Phillip knew you were having a really shitty week, with the way your eyes were downcast and the smile you forced when you tried to reassure him that everything was fine. He wasn’t that stupid. He knew that faraway look of yours, where you stare off into a spot and your mind has travelled to some distant place, away from all the stress and grief. 

He always does his best to help you as much as he can. Gives you space, cuddles, love, all the affection you could desire. He’d whisper into your ear all the reassurances in the world that you were loved and valued. Sometimes it would work, just him being there, caring. But sometimes, the glint in your eye wouldn't fully spark. So, he knew he had to show other ways he cared in a more physical, real manner.

He had you on your back, mewling with his cock nice and snug in that pussy while he leaned over you. His hips thrusted in a deep rhythm, letting you feel each ridge and vein along his shaft as it entered you again and again. He panted over you, his heated breath fanning over your lips as he had his toned chest pressed against yours, as physically close as he could be to you.

Each forward tilt of his hips drove a deep whimper from your mouth, a moan spilling out as the head of his cock grazed up against your clutching walls.

“That’s it, baby, you're doing so good.” He panted, groaning out as he focused on fucking his swelling cock deep into you. “My good girl... Fuck, so good.”

He lifted one of his legs up and firmly placed it on the mattress, giving him the leverage to piston his cock faster against you, the mushroom tip of his cock hitting against your sensitive g-spot with pinpoint accuracy, causing you to jolt and close your eyes, tiling your head to the side with a loud audible cry.

Graves gently, but with an urgency, cradled your face with his hand and brought it back to look at him, pressing his lips firmly against your own in a desperate, seething kiss.

“No no, look at me,” He said between kisses. “Don’t take your eyes of me, okay sweetie?”

You continued to moan and whimper as he fucked into you, his hips ruthless but his hands and lips so tender and full of yearning. “I…I can’t…” You tried to capture words between whimpers but couldn’t find them between the love and the searing pleasure. Tears welled up in your eyes and spilled down your cheeks, which Graves caught with the pad of his thumb as he rubbed them away.

“I know, baby, I know.” His voice was almost cracking as he spoke, the emotions and approaching orgasm stumbling his speech. “I got you, okay? Daddy’s here. Daddy’s got you.”

The tender sweetness of his words spurred on your desperately aching pussy, and the tightness in your stomach coiled tightly. He felt the walls tighten around him, and he knew it was coming. In the same way, he knew his own orgasm was brewing. He quickened his pace subconsciously, moaning loudly into your mouth as he held your lips in his. He wanted to whisper more and tell you that he loved you. Tell you that everything was going to be okay. But the words were lost when he opened his mouth and a gutteral groan escaped as he reached his peak, his cum erupting in strips inside you. But his pace only continued as he eagerly tried to get you to that peak.

“Let go baby…Fuck.” He said shakily, the sensitivity of his orgasm faltering his words.

“Fuck…Graves!” You cried out holding him as close as you could get to him before the chord snapped and your orgasm rushed over you, your pussy clenching and uncleching around his softening cock in rythm with your heartbeat.

Everything paused for a moment, and you both did not move an inch, only allowing yourselves to pant with your foreheads pressed together. No words were spoken past then as you two held each other, and as the two slept the rest of the night until morning, you felt calm. Any stress or depression in your body had left to make room for the tender love you two had for each other.

[callmecoke]

Comfort

Not my usual, but wanted to start the year by doing something for someone

@nrdmssgs, I love you <3

''Милая?''

You raise your head when you hear Nikolai call out to you after closing the door. Usually you would be up and walking to him from wherever you were in your apartment, but this time you stayed on the sofa, trying to shake the feeling of dread and sadness that had plagued you lately.

''I'm here, Nik''

You knew he wasn't stupid. You knew he could sense something was wrong in the last weeks, how your demeanor changed slowly, sadder, weaker, ... disgusting. You felt horrible within your own body, and no matter how much you tried to rationalize, could not shake it.

His heavy steps approached the living room, but your eyes returned to the book that you were definitely not reading. You didn't even listen to what was on the tv, only needing the background noise to... what? You barely knew anymore.

His body warmth was suddenly next to you on the sofa, and then, his arms dragged you to his lap, and his enormous hand craddled the back of your neck to tilt your face up to look at him.

''Любимая, talk to me''

Your heart both swelled and broke at the sight of his worried eyes, and you forced a smile on your face to try and deceive him into believing there was nothing wrong.

''What do you want me to talk about? Everything's fine''

Nikolai sighed, deeply, and his hand moved from the back of your neck to cup your face, his palm scorching against your jaw and cheek.

''My little one, you and I both know that it's not true. Please, don't shut me out. Please''

Your sight was suddenly blurry, and you blinked quickly, trying to fight the tears welling your eyes, and your forced smile faltered until it disappeared.

It all came out, like a wind that couldn't be contained, a tidalwave washing over a beach, dragging out rocks and debris. How you have felt lately. How disgusting you felt in your own body, in your skin, in your mind... in your soul.

And he listened silently, nodding from time to time and not once his eyes turned from you, nor did his hand on your face leave it or his arm wrapped around you allowed you to go further from him than the latest weeks you had drifted.

When the words choked up in your throat and you couldn't continue, Nikolai sighed deeply again and cupped your face with both hands.

''My little one, Я тебя обожаю'' His smile was as reassuring as ever, always the same charming scoundrel that could easily swindle anyone out of their soul or just ground you. ''There is nothing disgusting in you except these silly thoughts that I'd love to crush and toss out of your mind. You are not disgusting. You are brilliant, and talented, and funny and wicked smart, and I am honored to have you in my life. My life is better with you in it. The world is better with you in it. You are not disgusting. You are a light in the dark''

The tears running down your cheeks were swiftly wiped with his kisses and his soothing words, cleansing your soul and your mind. Maybe the thoughts would come back. But you knew he'd be there to cast them away, again and again, and again, until there wasn't need for it anymore.

[callmecoke]

Having trauma sucks because I’ll have my natural instinct to be a horndog but then my body will be like “if I so much as glimpse at anything mildly sexual that triggers me, I will kill myself.” Like, I can’t even wank in peace anymore. this shit has taken everything from me

[callmecoke]

Yesterday I came across a tiktok that got me really pissed; it started with what looked to me completely identical to the footage of police raids on our bars and clubs (not even just gay bars or BDSM clubs, even though it is done under the gise of looking for LGBT+ people who are considered extremists in Russia or for immigrants). I think it was a consensual "bride kidnapping", a wedding tradition that can be harmless, I guess (but I will never stop reminding that while it can be just a fun tradition somewhere, women and girls are actively being taken and married off against their will even in current day, for example, in Chechnya and other places). Then the tiktok cut to some self-proclaimed "booktok girl" that spent like two minutes gushing about how being kidnapped at gunpoint with a bag over her head by people in uniform and masks is "every booktok girl's" dream.

I'm not here to kinkshame, if that's what you're into, go off, I guess. But it did enrage me because until it cut to that girl it literally looked like what police is doing to real people in my country, and it hit me hard to see someone calling it their "dream".

Today a leader of a fascist/neonazi organisation "Русская община" ("Russian commune" I guess) made a statement that they are planning to start raiding bars and other nightlife places, because "pure Russian women go there to get used" and whatever. This organization has blood on their hands. They kill people. They attack people. They are kissing police on the mouth and no one is stopping them, most they can accidentally get is a slap on the wrist.

I am not telling everyone what to jerk off to. I will not change anyone's mind and I am not going to police anyone on what to like. I have no doubts that that tiktok girl would never approve of real violence. I am glad she sees people in masks with guns and her initial reaction is "wow hot" instead of "oh my god they are gonna kill innocent people". But this dissonance is driving me insane and I feel like I'm trapped behind the thickest glass wall, where the horrors that are happening on my side are just a fun and kinky fantasy movie for people on the other side. Maybe it's hypocritical of me since I am in this fandom too, but then again, since the very beginning I've been feeling like I'm actually disconnected from the most fans because... I don't like what the majority of the fandom likes. I'm not even sure what I like here and what draws me in.

I don't even know what the point of this post is, but I just feel like screaming. I should be getting strong and educated and capable to be a silverback King Kong protecting his troop and loved ones, but I feel so fucking powerless and paralyzed, and it feels like most of the people I come across don't grasp how scary the situation is. I've been feeling this way back when war just started, but I thought I managed to make it go away. And now it's back. And I am no more prepared than I was then.

[callmecoke]

I have to wake up early tomorrow for a photoshoot and it’s nearly midnight right now…I should 100% waste my night writing the next part of the sugar baby series and a graves x reader oneshot. You’re brilliant me. Thanks me.

[callmecoke]

Tw: panic attack, mental health episode. Not proofread

Any cod character x reader comfort blurb

Had a really awful night, so to combat that.

Imagine it’s late at night and you get that feeling again. Somethings happened, you’ve seen something or heard something that’s triggered that horrible drop in your stomach and you want to claw your own skin off in protest against the horrible feeling brewing in your mind. The tears won’t stop flowing down and your body is curled into itself to defend you against something that has no physical form.

And so one of the cod men find you on the floor, and doesn’t even ask any questions, just drops to the ground and sits beside you, as close as you’ll allow them. If you let them, they’ll throw their arms around you in a protective embrace to shield you from whatever it is that’s hurting you, and they’ll rock you back in forth to sooth the shakes of your panic.

And they’ll give you little whispers against your head. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. I’m here now.”

Because it will be. Because they want to protect you from all the things you’re too scared to talk about. From the things that trigger you for reasons unknown. From anything that could hurt you; physically, mentally, socially, it doesn’t matter. You’re what’s important in their lives and they will fight for you.