#Cod mwii

[sanriovin]

car sex with simon is a whole other experience you weren't prepared for, however, you couldn't complain. it was absolutely insane.

coming back from a night out with the lads, one to which he took his pretty little birdie with him, everything seemed fine. you were a little tipsy, and simon drank just enough beer to be under the legal limit to be able to drive. all in all, simon was able to hold his alcohol well, even with larger quantities; something he developed from the military.

one hand on the wheel, his eyes focused on the road ahead of him, while the other rested carefully on top of the short skirt of your dress, which was currently pushed up, your cute little lace panties on display for simon's wandering hands.

you were just babbling and going on and on in your cute little giggly voice about something johnny said, or maybe something kyle did, or maybe even a compliment john gave you. whatever it was, you were unfocused and oblivious as to what simon was doing.

that was only until you felt him run one of his thick, gloved fingers down the crotch of your thin panties, up and down, before rubbing a circle on your sensitive clit, causing you to gasp, and glance over at him with those pretty wide eyes of yours. "simon, what are you doing?"

to that, he could only let out a quiet rumble resembling a chuckle, not even looking over at you as he responded quietly. "shh, love, 'm trying to drive here."

he didn't stop his actions, no, instead, he decided to go one step further. he pressed his finger directly against your hole, pressing down through your panties to tease you. his impatient little birdie, he knows you too well.

you began squirming pathetically in your seat, grabbing his wrist tightly with your soft, delicate fingers, trying to bring his hand away. "simonn, stop! what if someone sees?" you whined out, pleading with him to stop. yes, you wanted this, but you couldn't risk getting caught!

but his hand wouldn't budge. at all. no matter how hard you pried at it.

"no one's gonna catch us at this hour, stupid littl' birdie." ghost replied with amusement, barely sparing you a glance, as his right hand effortlessly turned the steering wheel as he drove, his left hand now beginning to inch closer and closer to the edge detailing of your lacy panties, messing with the fabric.

suddenly, you felt his rough, gloved fingers push their way through the side of your panties, moving them to the side, as his fingers began to run up and down your drenched hole, leaving you wanting more, and desperately.

"stop teasing me, simon!" you whispered pitifully, trying eagerly to get him to bury his fingers deep inside you, and finger fuck you until you were a crying and sobbing mess, with the premium leather seat beneath you fully drenched with your mess.

slap!

"thought i told you better than to tell me wha' to do, didn't i?" he replied, sighing with faux disappointment, pulling his hand completely away. "now, you're gon' be a good girl and wait for me to finish driving, okay?"

a small cry of frustration and unhappiness left your lips, yet you decided to remain silent, turning your head away from simon, clenching your thighs together to try and get at least the teeniest tiniest amount of friction, waiting for the two of you to get home.

yet he wasn't going home.

oh no he wasn't.

you really expect him to be able to wait to get home when he has his pretty little thing begging for more, fully drenched, needing more? with his cock straining so painfully against his trousers, desperate to be set free and dealt with?

hell no.

he was completely focused on driving in the quiet, peaceful night, less and less people being seen on the paths as he suddenly drove down a solitary, stranded road, only a few lone street lamps seen for miles.

and then he parked. in a little space, hidden nicely by the tall trees rustling slightly with the warm summer night breeze.

it took him barely a second to get him and yourself unbuckled, moving you over to rest against the dashboard as he lifted your skirt up roughly, looking up at you.

"thought you could tease me and get away with it, huh, lovie? no, no, answer me now. don't get shy now, sweet'art."

he pushed your panties harshly to the side, not even bothering to take them off as he made quick work of unbuckling his leather belt, pulling down his trousers and boxers just enough so his fat cock could finally spring free from its restraints. simon sucked in a sharp breath, as his cock twitched, feeling the cool breeze flow around it.

"simon, 'm sorry for teasing, but please, put it-"

you couldn't even finish your pleas before he shoved his cock fully inside of you with one firm thrust, grunting and breathing heavily as his head rested near your shoulder, causing you to let out a loud squeal of surprise and pleasure, clenching down eagerly on his cock, leading to simon letting out a sound of surprise, tapping your hip gently.

"c'mon lovie, ease up a little, yeah? feels like your gonna snap my cock off with that grip of yours."

it took you a few moments to ease up, but as soon as you did, he was going right at it. pounding into you with such force it made the whole car shake, loud gasps and moans and cries of pleasure leaving your lips as you clawed at his shirt clad back, eyes rolling back far enough to reach your skull. your mind was going fuzzy, the coil in your tummy steadily fastening and tightening.

"simon, simon, feels sooo good, more, needta feel you more, pleasee!" you wailed out, holding him close to you, trying to feel him in you as deep as you possibly could.

in response, he thrust his hips forward harder, his pace relentless as he pounded into you quickly, raw need in his eyes as he kept his head near your shoulder. he was approaching his orgasm quickly, a little too quickly for his liking. he couldn't cum first, fuck no.

so what did he do?

he moved his thumb down to your clit, pressing down on it, eliciting a loud squeal of pleasure from you, eyes falling wide open, mouth agape even further, as he snapped his hips up again, his cock kissing your cervix nicely.

"s-simon, noo, no it's too much, stopp!" you moaned out, yet your body was saying a completely different thing. you wanted this, no, needed this, desperately, as he sped up his ministrations on your clit, to a point where it was becoming dangerously overstimulating for you, your orgasm threatening to wash over at any given moment.

and he wasn't in any better state, no no. his thrusts lost their accuracy, becoming messy and all over the place, as a guttural moan left his lips, finding its way into your ears, and that was all it took for you to have your orgasm rushing all over you, back arching as a loud cry of pleasure left your lips, your body jerking, pussy clenching desperately.

"fuck, fuck, fuck, g'nna cum inside, gonna make you a mama, yeah? gonna make you nice and round with my babies, uh huh, fuckkk."

and his thrusts stilled, cock deep inside you, as he pumped his load DEEP inside your wet, sticky pussy. simon never thought he would want kids, or even speak of them, especially during sex, but now, if it doesnt take, he'll just try again at home 😼

FINALLY got the motivation to finish this after like five months of being inactive so hell yeah

@ninjaturtletoes FINALLY AFTER EDGING YOU FOR SO LONG ABOUT THIS AHAHAHA

[shadow0-1]

late night fun

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

Would you maybe.. consider something with remora!mer x könig? (could be au from 141 since the boys would probably not be up for sharing her with him) but I love the idea of dopey remora!mer with massive shark könig T^T

-sleepyanon

yes, more shark!cod au for mermay (◔◡◔) more situations!!

maybe this is an au where remora reader never met shark!Price, and was therefore unprotected upon encountering the mer poachers.

...

77 / 1.2k

König’s eyes sweep over the humans crowding near the top edge of his dismal tank. The odd behavior disrupts his restless circling. Then they draw back. A new mer, suspended in a harness from above, lowers toward the tank. The humans—mer poachers—watch as callously as always.

The harness releases. You hit the water with a splash.

Instantly, you dart down into the depths of the tank and squeeze into the smallest space you can find. That's where you hide.

König barely glances at the commotion, much less does he bother chasing after you. What would be the point? Whoever you are, you're small, skittish—nothing more than a bottom-feeder. If you want to cower in the rocks, fine. He has no interest in weaklings who can’t face the open water.

Instead, he turns his attention up to the humans at the mouth of the tank. His fingers flex, claws itching to tear into something. But for now, he waits.

…

You press yourself into the deepest hollow you can manage, deep inside the tank's strange reef. It’s a reef that doesn't bloom with coral. Instead, it's angular, stone-dingey, and yellowed with algae. But you're too nervous to clean.

You huddle in the small cave until the muffled human voices fade. Why did they bring you here? What do they want? No matter how you tried to ask them and plead with them to let you go, they ignored you. You wrap your arms around yourself, curl up against the reef wall, and stare at the tag on your tail. The humans pierced it through one of your lower ventral fins. It hurts.

You grab it and turn it over, trying to be ginger with the way it tugs your fin, but you can't read the strange symbols. Staring at it makes you feel hopeless. Instead, you creep to the opening of the cave and peek out at the other mer circling the tank. They have tags like yours. Your gills fan with a sigh of relief. At least it's not just you.

König notices the movement from the corner of his eye—a flicker of motion near the reef. He doesn’t turn his head, but his posture shifts slightly, tail flicking in irritation. Pathetic. Hiding won’t save you. The humans don’t care about fear. If you're weak enough to show it, you deserve what you'll get.

His own tag—a crude metal clip punched through the thick muscle of his dorsal fin—itches, but he refuses to acknowledge it.

You avert your eyes until he passes overhead and away from you. Your spine prickles.

For the next two days, you don't venture more than a tail's length away from your safe spot. You stay low, you keep your mouth closed, and you avoid eye contact. You make sure the other mer can see you. You make sure you don't look like a threat.

On the third day, the humans toss chum into the water. Pink and visceral, it balloons across the surface and drifts straight down. The reaction of the other mer is immediate and brutal.

A snarl tears from König’s throat as the water clouds with blood and frenzy. His massive tail propels him upward in a single, violent thrust, shoulder-checking a shark mer. The shark, Nikto, snarls but doesn’t press the issue. Smart. König’s claws are already buried in the best cut of meat, tearing it free with a wet rip.

You watch the display with bright eyes from the reef below. The water churns with aggression. Tails lash; gills flare. Only fish bones and disembodied fin scraps make it past the frenzy. You spy one fin with a mouthful of meat still attached and creep closer, sliding along the tank floor on your belly.

A shadow passes over you. You flatten yourself to the ground and try to look as non-threatening as a piece of stray kelp.

König’s shadow looms over you, his massive frame blocking what little artificial light filters through the murky water. He doesn’t even glaring at you—just glides over you with a flick of his tail, in pursuit of a half-flank of whitefish several feet above your head. Even that small movement produces a current that knocks you back a few feet. His disdain is palpable.

The scrap of meat you’d been reaching for drifts just out of reach. Satisfied with his own chase, he doesn’t bother stealing it. Let the bottom-feeders fight over the dregs. He catches the disembodied whitefish flank and swims toward back up into the fray.

Once he’s gone, you twist and drag your fingertips along the bottom of the tank in a clumsy attempt to right yourself. The scrap of meat-and-fin spins along in König's wake. The current pulls it upward; it drifts atop the reef structure. You kick your tail and swim closer just to see it disappear into the crack of two huge stones.

…

König could heave those concrete slabs out of the way if he wanted to. But why would he?

He settles against a ledge near the top of the tank, arms crossed, tail lazily swaying to keep him suspended. His gaze flicks to the other mer. Nikto lurks near the surface. Horangi circles like a restless predator—then swims toward the reef.

You sense Horangi coming and still your movements, settling against the slabs a few feet away from where the meat disappeared.

Horangi’s striped tail cuts through the water. Then his clawed hand darts out—not toward you, but toward the crack in the slabs. He snakes his fingers into the gap. Despite his grit, he can't fit enough of his hand into the space to reach the food; after a long moment of maneuvering and shifting and shimmying his arm this way and that, he gives up and jerks away with a deep curse.

You keep your eyes trained carefully, demurely downward, but he hardly seems to care you're there.

Perfect.

Once he's gone, you move yourself over to your target and slip your deep into the crevice. It takes no time at all for you to find the morsel. When you retrieve it, however, you don't eat it. Instead, you swim quietly to the side of the tank, near the ledge where König sits. Without looking, you shuck the morsel of meat from its host fin, clean it in your specialized palms, and place both pieces on the ledge just out of König's reach: an offering.

Then you turn and swim dutifully back down to your reef cave. Your stomach growls.

König’s gaze snaps to the offering the moment you retreat. His fingers twitch. A beat passes. Then he drags his claws over it and picks it up. He doesn’t eat it immediately—just turns it over in his claws, inspecting it. It’s clean; it's prepared. Not hastily snatched and carelessly half-scavenged like the scraps the others fight over. He slips the meat underneath his hood and into his mouth. The fin he flicks aside—useless to him. But it would be a rather savory morsel to you. The gesture isn’t lost on him.

His eyes track your retreating form, lingering on the way you tuck yourself back into the rocks.

Maybe you’re not worthless.

...

[part 1] / part 2 / part 3

more mer au / more KorTac / masterlist

[swagst0rm]

YOU

i didn't say it was good, i said it has bewitched me body and soul

[888888-88]

Good night Simon 💀💤🌛

Hi yall! I’m back🫶

Been resting 😴 and I feel much better now 🌸

Back in business mfckeerrrr👺👺👺👺👺👺👺

Love my scull pookie as always 💝

(He is drooling)

[lorvdz]

“You look so much like your father in certain lights,” ૮ ◞ ﻌ ◟ ა

I certainly feel like it’s definitely possible that Russell Adler and Phillip Graves are related in a way! So here’s my full analysis and take on it, have fun watching me go through insanity to prove my point..

Firstly, both Phillip Graves and Russell Adler share super striking physical similarities that possibly suggests a genetic relationship!Which includes:

• Nasal Structure: Both characters show a strong, slightly arched nasal bridge when viewed from the side — which is a trait often passed through family lines.

• Ocular Features: Both have notably blue eyes. Graves’ tendency to squint at times creates a visual resonance with Adler’s more stern, calculating gaze.

• Hair Color and Facial Structure: Both maintain similar hair color — a muted brown-blonde when the lighting is high— and angular facial geometry. Graves’ slightly fuller face may possibly be attributable to age or lack of smoking(since Adler smokes, it hollows out the face more), but the genetic resemblance remains strong!

These visual parallels are consistent enough to warrant the hypothesis of a familial bond, particularly that of father and son.

Tactical disposition:

Adler, who’s a CIA operative during the Cold War, is characterized by a highly strategic, stoic, and ruthless(also a psychopath, said by some characters) approach to missions. Graves, though outwardly more charismatic and flippant, exhibits a similar style of covert military strategy; most notably in his betrayal of Task Force 141, in Las Almas. This duality might suggest that Graves may reflect a younger Adler: more expressive, but shaped by a similarly calculating mind.

Chronological feasibility:

Adler is active during the 1980s! Since he’s 44 in 1981 during the events of Black Ops Cold War, he would be 85 during Modern Warfare II’s timeline in the late 2022. Graves appears to be in his late 30s or early 40s, placing his birth roughly in the mid-to-late 1980s; precisely when Adler would plausibly be capable of fatherhood..

However, this is just me theorizing it all! I just find them..too similar..

[realmsturkishdelight]

simon with a girlfriend who cleans when she's mad!

simon never really doubted anything.

he didn't doubted when he jumped in front of a bullet, or get picked in most dangerous missions, nor doubt when he says something. he's a clear man. if he thinks about it, he'll say it or do it.

but simon is now staring at the floor, which he can see his own reflection by now, from how clean it is, and just... thinks.

did he done something wrong? or did you just got bored and started cleaning? you were a lazy bird, using your boredom in either journaling or spending time on your phone, or just reading a book. but cleaning? that's something you did when you were furious.

of course you cleaned the house occasionally, he helped too, but this is way too clean for his liking.

you stepped into the livingroom with his shirt, and some slippers; hair tied in a messy bun and hands covered with dish gloves. simon's whole body tensed, which was completely out of fear. see, he could curse to a general—been there done that—be mean to anyone, or literally spit in the enemies face while being pointed guns.

but you? damn, woman. you almost made the bloke pee in his pants.

"si?"

"my gorgeous doll." he said almost immediatly, and you could see a shiver if you squinted enough. you were glad that he wasn't stepping your perfectly cleaned floor with his combat boods; completely bare footed, shoes where they suppose to be.

"why are you standing there?" you asked with a tilt of your head, confused to see your giant boyfriend almost turn into a shrimp from fear. "come on! im done, just gonna put these back." you showed the cleaning products in your hand and walked to kitchen, to place them where they belong.

simon let out a breath of relief, yet still confused. you weren't mad. not like he gave you a reason to, he returned from his deployment yesterday and went to gym today, leaving you happy at home. so why was this house this clean?

"doll." simon slowly stepped in your personal space, almost like hunting you. you let out a confused smile, holding him. "si." you hummed, noticing how he visibly relaxed.

"why 's the house clean, luv?" he murmured, caressing your waist.

you chuckled. "you prefer it dirty?"

"no, but you usually don't clean this deep unless your mad."

"...huh?"

you never realised it before. but yeah, you did clean when you were mad. you couldn't sit on your ass angry, your hands itching to do something. and since you didn't wanted to do illegal stuff, you just cleaned the house!

"oh," you said softly. "that's why you were tense? im not mad si! cleaned this deep because spring is here, and i wanted to embrace it with a clean home."

simon let out a quiet 'oh', gently lifting you in his arms. "you scared me there for a sec', doll. thought i did som'thin i didn't realise." he said, carrying you to shower.

you chuckled, hugging his neck. "should i be mad?"

"nuh-uh doll, 'm innocent, i swear." he smiled a bit, sitting you on the sink. "and as a thank you for cleanin' the house, my precious and pretty doll, i'll give you the best shower of your life."

you raised a brow, knowing he won't keep his hands to himself in there. "promise to order wings after?"

"copy that."

[fluff-angst-fanfics]

.

Human!Reader being traded to Fae!Price to keep the peace. Like I heard once in ancient China, actual royal daughters wouldn't be married off, other girls would be married in their place, so maybe reader's parents volunteered her to be married instead of the king's beloved daughter?

see you perfectly get me 😩😩 i hope you don’t mind me using this as a chance to yap <3

Masterlist

The fae had no love for you.

You had known this from the moment you stepped into the obsidian palace, its towering spires slicing through the mist-laden sky like blades. You had been dressed in human silks then- pale, delicate, and utterly wrong in a court where darkness was beauty, where even the air shimmered with otherworldly grace. The moment you crossed the threshold, every gaze in the room had cut into you, assessing and dismissing in the same breath because not a single one of them wanted a human amongst them- least of all as their queen.

The words had not been spoken aloud, but you had felt them all the same, woven into the murmurs that rippled through the court. They had expected the human king’s beloved daughter (even if they would have hated her all the same), a princess groomed for diplomacy, raised in luxury. Instead, they had been given you- the daughter of an unimportant noble, a substitute barely trained in courtly graces but more than capable with ink and parchment, a woman who had spent years buried under the work the princess refused to do.

They had not wanted you.

And neither, it seemed, had your husbands.

King John Price, your husband, had barely acknowledged you beyond what duty required. He had spoken the vows in the old tongue, words and sounds you could never hope to replicate with a human tongue, and sealed the marriage with a kiss so fleeting it barely brushed your lips, then turned away to his own husbands- also yours, but they weren’t kings, so no kiss was required between you and them.

(The concept was still so strange to you. Humans practiced monogamy at the very least, in public- yet you had learned fae cared very little for such things.)

They were his advisors; Johnny, Simon, Kyle, and they were no different. They were powerful men, sharp as the wind over the mountains, and just as untouchable.

You were an outsider, a human intruder in a world where every glance from you was considered an insult, every word a nuisance.

They did not mistreat you, no. They simply ignored you, and you told yourself that it was worlds better than being hurt anyways… even if the loneliness hurt.

And so you threw yourself into the work. The human princess had forced all her duties on you for years, and it was no different here- except now it was fae treaties, fae disputes, fae taxes, all of which they happily let you drown in. You handled it all without complaint. The paperwork was easier to deal with than the loneliness. And if they noticed the way you handled the endless the endless paperwork that the court so conveniently let pile up on your desk, they gave no indication.

You were a human among fae. And in their eyes, that made you insignificant.

Your days blurred together in a haze of ink-stained fingers and stiff-backed chairs, the weight of the crown heavier than you had ever imagined. It might have continued that way- silent, distant, suffocating- if not for the day the Queen Mother descended upon you.

She despised humans. You could see it in the way she sneered at you, the way she spoke as if addressing something beneath her. But she was old, cunning, and- unlike her son- unwilling to let a political marriage go to waste. She had entered your chambers one evening without announcement, her presence crackling in the air like a brewing storm.

For a long moment, she had said nothing. And then:

"You look human."

You had stiffened at her tone. It was not a compliment.

"That is your first mistake."

She had circled you then, her gaze stripping you bare. "The court despises you. My son ignores you, as do his husbands- they do not even see you. Why?"

You had swallowed, resisting the urge to drop your gaze. "… Because I am human."

A flicker of a smile, cold and knowing. "No, child. Because you make no effort to be anything else. You are no longer within humans.”

That night, your wardrobe was stripped away- every pale gown, every soft fabric, every piece of jewelry that marked you as human. In their place, the Queen Mother had garments brought in that dripped with fae elegance.

Your dresses were no longer delicate, but sharp—cut to flatter the lines of your body, corseted to perfection, woven with fabrics darker than midnight and embroidered with silver-threaded fae flowers that shimmered when they caught the light. Your silks no longer billowed, but clung, whispering around you like shadows given form.

Your jewelry transformed you further. Earrings that mimicked the elongated points of fae ears, tapering into elegant curves. Rings shaped into sharp, clawed talons that gleamed when your fingers moved. Tiaras twisted into the illusion of horns, their dark metal twining like the antlers of the fae lords. Even your hair was adorned with woven fae flora, petals shifting as though alive.

When you stepped before the mirror, you barely recognized yourself.

You were still human. But you no longer looked like prey.

The court noticed first. The whispered mockery did not cease, but it changed- less scornful, more wary. Some sneered that you were playing dress-up, but others looked twice, their gazes lingering in ways they never had before.

Your husbands were slower to react, but when they did, it was irreversible. It was the point of no return- even if you did not know it at the time. Did not once suspect this had been the Queen Mother’s plan from the start.

Johnny cracked first.

One evening during another dinner where you were supposed to be ignored once more, as you reached for a goblet, he caught your hand- his calloused fingers brushing the rings now shaped like talons. His thumb grazed over the curved metal, blue eyes flicking up to yours with something thoughtful, something curious.

“…This suits you, lass."

A simple statement. But his touch lingered a moment longer than necessary. You did not allow yourself to think more of it, as he eventually turned away from you and returned to ignoring you.

Kyle was next. It was not the rings he noticed, but the way the darker fabrics shaped you, the way the fae silks whispered around your form when you moved. His sharp gaze assessed you, and when you met his eyes, he hummed- low and appreciative.

"Fascinating."

Simon was the hardest to read, but you caught the way his head tilted slightly when you walked past him, the way his gaze lingered on the flowers adorning you, unreadable but lingering. He did not speak on it. He never did speak to you, not eveb now. But he watched.

And for the first time since your marriage to John, he truly looked at you; not past you. Not through you. But at you.

The next time you stood before him, spine straight, chin lifted, cloaked in the elegance of the fae, John leaned back in his seat, exhaling slowly. His eyes raked over you in quiet thoughts, but there was something different this time- something sharper, darker.

You had changed.

And the court had noticed.

He had seen the way the nobles looked at you now- the way their gazes lingered too long on the curve of your throat, the bare skin exposed by the daring cut of your gown. The way their admiration had shifted, no longer dismissive but hungry. Once, they had sneered at your presence, insulted by the mere thought of a human in their midst. Now, they sought your attention, vying for your favor with soft smiles and murmured compliments.

It soured something in him.

His fingers curled against the armrest of his throne, a slow, thoughtful movement. He knew he had no right to feel this way. He had ignored you first. Had dismissed you, had treated you as a necessity rather than a wife. And yet-

He did not like the way they looked at you.

From the corner of his eye, he could see the way the others reacted as well. Kyle’s jaw was tight, his gaze sharp whenever a noble leaned too close. Johnny had grown restless, the usual brightness in his eyes dimming whenever he caught another fae whispering to you, their voices dipped too low. And Simon was a shadow at the edge of the room, silent, unmoving, but his cold stare was a warning, his claws tapping idly against the hilt of the dagger at his belt.

They saw it, too.

You were theirs.

And now, far too many in this court seemed to be forgetting that.

John’s grip on the chair tightened before he forced himself to relax, schooling his expression back into something unreadable.

Well, he may have been a neglectful husband to you in the beginning… but no time better than the present to fix his mistake.

Part two

[countrycritter]

YouTuber!141 Headcanons?!?! 😱

Alright y’all, my thought is that they have these channels as a side hobby. They upload every couple of months but trust me their fans are very devoted. Always get warm welcomes on the platform when they make a video after their return from deployment.

Price definitely has one of those how-to channels but it’s very fatherly in a sense. He makes those videos showing you things that your father should have taught you, and if he didn’t then that’s what Price is there for. You will catch this man doing things like changing a tire, building (and stabilizing) shelves, laying down floor pallets, etc.. You name it, he’s probably made a video about it. Of course, the view is just a bonus. This nice older man with a deep, raspy voice and biceps that could kill. Old t-shirt with a whiskey logo on it, the graphics cracked from use and multiple washes. Jeans that hug all the right places and just a pair of boots. You’re watching him change a tire while also trying not to stare at his strong, hairy arms that have patches of soot on them from the truck he’s working with.

Gaz makes ASMR videos, but the calming organization type. There’s a southern woman that goes into Dollar General and organizes the back shelves while quietly talking about what it is and just telling little stories relevant to it. I can see Gaz doing that. Trust me when I tell you that all the stores he goes to LOVES him. The moment they see his vehicle pull up in the parking lot and him walking to the doors with his camera they always smile and welcome him instantly. This man is their savior on extremely busy days when organizing isn’t the top priority. There’s just something about laying in bed with the window open, warm summer breeze coming through, crickets and frogs chirping, and this beautiful man’s sweet baritone voice coming through the speakers. You can imagine the amount of swooning going through the community once he decides to turn the camera around, giving everyone a view of his cleanly shaved face.

Soap is a little more chaotic. You will not be sleeping or studying during his videos. He loves to do experiments that his viewers recommend. This man will put anything together to make a bomb (not anything illegal of course). I just imagine all of his comments being something like “Nice video, brother” and other variations of it. Surprisingly, there are many people that tell him he’s their comfort YouTuber. A charming, but chaotic, man with a tantalizing Scottish accent that gives him everyone’s attention within seconds. That smile he makes when an experiment works will get you every single time. Before the video starts he always has a goofy little PSA telling his viewers to never try it at home and tells them he’s a professional. Overall, can’t go wrong with a buff man sweet talking while making bombs to set off for his viewers.

Ghost doesn’t make what you would expect. Maybe he makes something about guns, or fixing stuff like Price. Instead his channel is about baking. It used to be cooking and baking but after a couple videos he decided baking was his favorite. Baking can be a great way to relieve stress so I think he would definitely benefit from it. Can you imagine this big behemoth of a man baking? Because I sure can. He stands at his wooden counter, the background shows his nice rustic kitchen. I feel like he makes his kitchen look extra nice just because his viewers compliment it CONSTANTLY. He’s probably wearing a comfortable long sleeve shirt, I’m thinking a dark brown. The sleeves are pulled up right below his elbows showing off his tattoo sleeve. He has a tiny microphone attached to his shirt, adjusted just right so you can hear him from under the black surgical mask. He loves making anything ranging from cakes, brownies, cookies, breads, etc.. Not to mention, he has a cute plastic container that holds all his note cards with recipes on them. He probably puts the recipe in the bio just so people can see the exact measurements (he’s also a considerate man and puts the US’ funky measurements alongside it after people asked if he could).

I hope y’all enjoyed this as much as I loved writing it 🫶

[shadow0-1]

prayers

[gremlinmodetweeker]

A/B/O Government Appointed Wife!Reader

Art from This Post and This Post

Alternate Universe Masterlist

In a world where military soldiers are forcibly paired up with partners to produce more soldiers, König is paired with an omega O, and has to deal with the new changes in his life.

Intro

My Ever Empty Bed

An Olive Branch Among Thorns

Declivities

Two Can Play At That Game

To Market to Market to Buy a Fat Hog

Aren't You Tired Yet?

I Sit With You And Cry For What Could Have Been

The House is Burning, and Everyone is Laughing and Smiling [1] [2]

[888888-88]

Another sketch of my girl from this post and Simon 🫶

Hehehehhhheheh

Bye ✌️

[like-you-alive]

Someone get the poor man an Aztec death whistle PLEASE

He’s gonna fuck up his voice

Soap, giggling to himself "I'm the ghostbuster, because I am fuc"

Gaz, very tiered at this point, just screams like a banshee to drown out soap

Anytime Soap says anything involving his sexual encounters with Ghost, Gaz screams until he shuts up. Soap only tries to talk about those things in certain settings, like in the mess, rec, gym— So it’s not uncommon to hear Gaz just start screaming for no apparent reason. The first time he did it he scared Soap. And everyone else in the gym. He was called into Price’s office not long after and wasn’t held long after he explained why he screamed like that. Price doesn’t blame him.

[joysisland]

I know konig is socially awkward but just because he can't keep a conversation going it doesn't mean he can't be an asshole. long blurb about mean!konig x f!personal assistant!reader part 2?

Hear me out, we're talking about a MAN who's taller than 6 feet, whose job is his whole life and has never known anything other than that. He's cocky, and let's be honest he's probably experiencing a mid life crisis (he can't fathom how he lived long enough to see 40) plus he's a colonel so he probably thinks his word is law in all aspects. He's sooo mean. mean and disgustingly hot.

He's been in the military since he graduated from highschool so all things considered I think he's really proud of how far he's come, being a colonel and all, but in a way which makes it clear as day that he bases his value on his job. He's working on it.

I think he's mean especially with rookies or generally soldiers with a lower rank than him. Like there's a solid difference in the almost patronising way he treats a private, talking to them like they're kids who still have to learn about the world, dismissing them as soon as he can because he simply thinks their opinions aren't valuable, AND the way he treats other colonels or the captain, with whom he definitely has had conversations about how rookies are absolutely useless and annoying, before immediately switching to bragging about the outcome of a recent mission like they personally did the dirty work.

Of course love hasn't really been his top priority. His job keeps him away from home for months at a time and he simply couldn't care less about putting some effort into a relationship. Not that he couldn't get a girl, cus he's handsome, but his social anxiety and his emotional support hood don't exactly help him.

Once for a split second he had a change of heart, thinking about settling down for good, finally being good to someone special, cherish them, but... the woman didn't even know who he was, and apparently delivering flowers to a girls doorstep everyday for 6 months is nowadays considered stalking. He now has a restraining order. Nothing like it was in the good ol' days.

So ultimately he decided on it: no missus. But that didn't mean harmless fun hookups were off the table. So he did just that, until a new lieutenant was introduced to him by another colonel. He really couldn't care less about hearing whatever it was that the other man was saying, he had better things to do, reports to file, people to call, but the colonel went on describing her amazing results. Something something excellent leadership, something something astonishing precision and time management... he fell asleep by the third "you'll never believe how great-!" but once he looked up from his paperwork to see her face as she introduced herself he swore he'd seen her somewhere before...

he simply nodded as he shook her hand, her name already forgotten.

"where have we already met eachother?"

"the bar right across from base sir"

Oh.

He carried on like nothing happened - after all it happened before she was his direct subordinate. She was a good lay at that, the woman was fierce to say the least and it scratched an itch he didn't know existed and didn't want to investigate further. Just when he was thinking about that he was snapped out of his daydream.

"so I'll leave her to ya, König, being your assistant will do her good"

HUH? excuse him?

That already annoyed König out of his mind, and the sight of her almost hopeful face really put the last nail in her coffin. She'd be gone by next week. He crossed his arms and leaned back on his office chair and instantly got reminded of the budget that kept his chair creaking every time he had the audacity to even slightly shift - and yet money was eagerly spent on hiring this lieutenant he didn't even need.

He sighed and gave her a condescending look "look. I don't need an assistant to keep track of my schedule or to organise my papers. A coffee in the morning will be enough, half a packet of sugar."

At the lack of a quick response he added "if I were you I'd get out of this "job" real quick. I don't need you."

Just as she recovered from his foul mouth and opened her mouth to speak up, rather annoyed, he interrupted her again "you can go now." and then he resumed reading his papers.

....

"oh com'on könig, just give her a chance!" said the annoying, assistantless colonel with a shit eating grin.

It had already been 3 days, and König could bet his right kidney that he placed her with him on purpose, just to get under his skin, the prick. But instead of crashing out and slapping off the grin from his face he followed his therapist's words, taking a deep breath, which came out as a deep sigh, as he waited by the coffee machine, remaking the shit one he had this morning. "She should start by making my coffee properly." he rambled on, definitely stressed. way too stressed for his salary.

"she could start by giving you tips on strategies that keep your team in one piece."

That was a low blow - the past week Königs team had nearly made it out of a building as it disintegrated because of a communication error. emphasis on communication. An error he'd spot almost too late. He should've known better but still...

They should just give him a bonus every month for the emotional damage of mobbing by the way he was feeling his right hand close in a fist. "and you could start by shutting the fuck up"

That ended it, for now.

que for the infamous assistant to join the conversation.

"colonel König, I have -" she stopped in her tracks as she noted the tension. then resumed, more strong willed, that cheerful look not yet gone from her face "I have already revised and organized the reports you gave me and I was thinking about the-"

"not the right moment lieutenant." he cut her off. "I will hear your nonsense later."

Oh no he didn't. "Look, I'm tired of looking after your fucking meaningless reports you old shite! If you just listened-" she started, a condescending look away from really snapping at him.

"are you quitting right now?" he said, dangerously calm and collected.

"I wish I could" she scoffed.

"I'll help you out then, you're fired. Don't say I never land a hand to the younglings."

This motherfucker ...

[walmart-icarus]

Gossip king