#Cod Kick x reader

[saturncodedstarlette]

[Boys Night Out]

Keegan : What kinda restaurant is this bruh?

Ajax : It’s a French restaurant, they got croissants

Kick : What? We’re gonna eat ratatouille?

Grim : We bout to eat rat

Waiter!Y/N : Bonjour

Grim : What is that?

Neptune : They said something about food

Hesh : They been eating baguettes

Waiter!Y/N : Here’s your menus *throws the menus*

Keegan : See man, this what I’m talking about— you saying we at a French restaurant. This mf speaking American!

Torch : Who gives a shit bro

Logan : Hand me that menu— *looks at the menu* what the f— are these words? What kinda language is this?

Ajax : It’s French—

Torch : Where’s the drinks at?

Ajax : Bottom left

Torch, trying to read : BWA— boires?

Grim : I think it’s boyers— the drinks

Waiter!Y/N : Oh yeah, les boires that’s the drinks—

Grim : I know it’s the fuckin drinks asshole, I just said that. you don’t have to be a smartass bout it

Waiter!Y/N, confused and offended :

Logan : Just give me some damn water

Waiter!Y/N : I don’t get paid enough for this *walk away to get the drink*

Kick : So what you wanna order?

Neptune : I’m studying the French dictionary real quick

Kick : You can’t study a dictionary bro

Neptune : fym you can’t study a dictionary? It’s a BOOK

Neptune : Look when the waiter come back imma be like— lemme get the—

Neptune : “Biscuit chickenne”

Ajax : They don’t have chicken biscuits

Neptune : You fucking blind— look on the menu. “Bisque” in English that translates to BISKIT

Grim : You dumbass— that’s not a chicken biscuit! That’s chicken bisque— it’s SOUP🤌

Neptune : Look I know biscuit when I see it, I’m ordering this shit

Hesh : Fuck it man order whatever you want

Torch : I’m getting the snails

Waiter!Y/N : Are y’all dumb shits ready to order?

Torch : Yeah lemme get the escargots de bourgogne

Waiter!Y/N : Bourgogne? We got a fuckin goofster in here

Torch : GOOFSTER?!

Keegan : Whatever tf you just ordered, you gon need a toothbrush

Waiter!Y/N : y’all the goof troop?

Logan : Goof troop?

Waiter!Y/N : What kinda bullshit you bout to order?

Torch : yeah lemme get the.. chicken bisque— with no soup, double biscuit, extra gluten

Waiter!Y/N : THE BISQUE ISN’T BREAD DUMBASS! IT DON’T HAVE GLUTEN OR BISCUIT!

Torch : Quit being stupid

Waiter!Y/N : I give up *throws the name tag away, flip a finger, then walk out the door*

[hffhifjou]

look at him 👁️👁️

[frogchiro]

In reference to your other post: Wolf Hybrid!Ghost taking the reader from behind, his mind clouded with lust as he mounts them, lining up his thick cock before stretching them open. He can't help but look down at where they connect, seeing their hole stretched thin over his cock and making him mutter a teasing "Awww... biiig stretch" under his breath, lips pulled into a pleased smirk as he goes to pound town.

I literally came tf did you put in this ask

Wolf dog hybrid!Simon who, if able to, would mount you all the time and not let you off of his dick, his large knot keeping you tied to him and the pointy tip of his lengthy cock leaking and spurting his fertile sperm deep in you :((

Remember that he's huge! Build like a shit brickhouse, broad, burly shoulders, bulky arms and legs, a nice healthy layer of fat on his tummy making him seem even larger and his fluffy tail and pointy, fuzzy dog ears on top of his head only complete the look. Whenever he drapes himself over your smaller, soft body and grinds hips strong hips against you you always loose your balance a bit and whine at him to please not put all his weight on you, you'll break under him!!

But Simon just snuffles and makes a chuffing noise as he pushes his nose right under your jaw to inhale your scent, his fluffy tail wagging like crazy behind him; he wouldn't admit it but he always gets so stupidly happy whenever you're near. His mate is close and all he wants to do is to nip and tease you, herd you away and then mount :((

Imagine Simon thrusting his hips without abandon, so fucking turned on and horny, low growls escaping his maw as he listens attentively to your whines and whimpers and he can't help but smirk at the delicious sight of your poor, swollen pussy stretched open so wide to accommodate his large, heavy cock, his swollen tip hitting against your battered cervix and he almost howls at the feeling of being so so deep in you :(

Si would smirk and slow down his insistent thrusts to a slow in and out and using his thumbs he'd spread your cunt open to see his length stretching you to your limits and it's then when he growls a nasty:

"Aahhh would you look at tha'...Biiig stretch lovie'

And you're both speechless and embarrassed at the same time :(( He threw your affectionate words you use when you find Si particularly cute back at you when you're stretched wide on his dick :(( He's so mean :((

[moongreenlight]

I love your work about the 141 gossiping about Ghost, love the concept of him having a “secret wife”.

Please please please write more with “secret wife y/n”, I beg of you. 🙏🏻

ANYTHING FOR YOU, ANON. <3 Ghost and secretwife!reader are my sweet babies I love them so much.

Tw: blond Simon & smiling Simon. Read at your own risk.

If there’s one thing Gaz knows how to do, it’s shut the fuck up. And if there was ever a time to employ that skill, it was now. Now after he’d been frozen watching the two of you reunite after a close call. After he’d discovered your dirty little secret. Suddenly feeling like Icarus after flying too close to the sun. Hurtling back down to earth. He was certain that when he moved there would be a crater under his feet where his stomach dropped.

He’d gone so green that another nurse came up and gently tugged on his arm to see if he was alright. He snapped his jaw shut, nodding and mumbling something that didn’t sound anywhere near reassuring. But he forced himself to leave the medbay. Left the two of you behind the curtain, where in his final glance back he saw that your feet were still neatly on top of Ghost’s big boots. Pushed up on your toes to be able to wrap your arms around his shoulders.

He made some excuse not to meet with you that evening. Could barely look you in the eye when you caught him in the hall, looking significantly more cheery than you had been that morning. You pried, asking if he was alright, feeling his forehead with the back of your hand, but he claimed the stress of their mission had just hit him and he really needed to sleep.

It took him weeks to get over the initial shock. Couldn’t stand next to Ghost during conditioning. Made a point of sitting catty-corner to him during meetings and in transit so he had the least chances of accidentally catching his eye. Feeling like he’d deeply bastardized the idea of ‘Ghost.’ Blurred the lines between the man Gaz knew and the man he was in private.

He tried to reason with himself. Keep it fresh in his mind that he’d seen the signs, just hadn’t been able to fully connect the dots by himself. And it was an accident. He’d never intentionally pry into either of your personal lives like that. It wasn’t in his character. There was nothing innately wrong with the two of you hiding a marriage. Probably would have been an HR nightmare. Gotten both of you re-stationed. He was certain you both had a good reason to hide it. And there was no better person to find out than him. He’d actually be able to keep it a secret. Soap would immediately run his mouth. Get on the intercoms and scream the news as loud as he could. Price would pull the both of you aside and try to have some heart-to-heart. Not that it wouldn’t have been nice, it just would have felt too forced. Wouldn’t have served any real purpose.

So eventually he gets over it. Never pressed you about your marriage again, and you never seemed too keen on following up his request from months ago. The dust settles in his mind. He shelves the information like an old book. Life goes on.

And then the weather turns. Starts getting colder. The first few weeks of cold after summer where the wind stings a little more. Finds it’s way through jackets and uniforms a little more artfully. Soldiers are catching ill and passing it around like it’s a competition of who can infect the entire base. The medbay is busy, but a different kind of busy than summer when it’s an optimal time to see missions through.

The medics are tasked with rounding up all the soldiers on base and issuing flu vaccines to hopefully prevent further spread. You trudge to Price’s office in the early morning. He notices you look a little pale. The rims of your eyes and tip of your nose are blotchy. A gentle shade of pink that he assumes is from the weather or the cold you were bound to catch. You chat for a bit, catch up because you haven’t had the opportunity for a few weeks. Let him know that he and the boys need to make their way to the bay for their shots at some point.

You feel a little woozy. Pressing into his doorframe for support, white-knuckling it to keep yourself from swaying in your spot. He looks a little concerned. Asks if you need to take a few days away to recoup. You wave him off, tell him it’s nothing you can’t handle, but he insists on walking you back to medbay. And he’s glad he did because on the short walk back you find yourself having to duck into a dark meeting room so you can vomit into a trash can.

He keeps a steadying arm wrapped around your waist when you stumble back out into the hall. Shaking his head when you profusely apologize. Slowing his normally long strides so you were comfortable. Gently lets you down on your own cot and instructs you to stay where you are while he goes to find a few other doctors that can delegate your work for the day between them so you can have the day off.

He sends you home despite your protest. You’d already gotten your color back. Claimed you must’ve had something off to eat. He wasn’t having it. Said he wouldn’t have his best doctor spreading sick because she’s too stubborn to get off her feet for a few hours. He’s a bit more stern than usual because he knows you won’t listen otherwise, but he brings you a ginger ale and sits next to your bed until you’ve finished it.

Later that day, when he and the boys finally get around to the bay for vaccines, he notices the way Ghost’s eyes dart around like he was looking for something. His shoulders tensing when he sees your station empty, and moments after he’s taken his shot, Price sees that he’s slunk off to a corner to make a phone call.

He doesn’t think much of it. He’s been trying to give Ghost some space. So he just shrugs it off. Let’s him finish up whatever he’s doing before they get back to work.

The boys have gotten in the habit of taking a week off as the snow melts. Just before Spring brings rain and the soft buds of new leaves on the trees. Unofficial tradition proposed early on to have a few more days rest before things inevitably picked up again. Usually gave the boys time to kick off to visit family or get some well needed time away from base. Get in a well needed break because God knew they wouldn’t be able to for the foreseeable future.

Soap finds himself a little North of Manchester in his time off. Went out to see his godparents in Bolton for a couple days before getting back up to Iverness to see his parents. Meandering through a supermarket to pick up a bottle of wine for his godmother and a bottle of bourbon for himself. Could have sworn he saw Simon turning a corner at the end of the aisle. Chalked it up to a trick of the light. Seeing things after months of close quarters with his L.T.

But then he saw the man again. Stood in line at the butcher’s counter. No mask, but the same crooked nose and cropped blond hair. Same scar hooking his jaw. Swapped out his uniform and gear for a thick leather jacket, white shirt, and a pair of jeans. Would have been unrecognizable if Johnny didn’t know him so well.

He was about to head over to say hello. Make some wise crack about Ghost missing him too much, but he was stilled for a moment when a woman approached Simon. Pushed her cart up next to him and nudged his side with her hip. Prompted him to give her a small smile- the only smile Soap had ever seen Simon grace anyone with. No teeth, just a curve of his lips, but it changed his face completely.

Ghost said something to the woman. She reached up to fuss with the collar of his jacket. Johnny saw her shoulders shake slightly and heard the quiet tinkling sound of her laughter. Completely shell shocked. So imagine his surprise when the woman turned away from Ghost and it was you. Only you looked wildly different. He knew your face well enough, but after almost six months not going to the medbay on a weekly basis, something had changed.

Even wearing an oversized sweatshirt he could see the way it pulled taught against your swollen belly. Saw the way your arm was cradling it like second nature. He didn’t even realize that the bottle of wine had slipped from his fingers until he watched Simon’s head snap toward the sound. Ears perked. Tense like he’d suddenly flashed onto the battlefield. His eyes went wild for a moment as he scanned the busy aisle, calmed only a degree when he found you.

It’s like that Spider-Man meme where the three of them meet and point at each other. Johnny’s smiling sheepishly (for once), your jaw is dropped in surprise, and Simon is glaring daggers at Johnny like somehow it was his fault that you were all in the same place at once. You’re the first one to move. Rushing up to him as quickly as you could- now moving a bit awkwardly with the disproportionate weight of your pregnancy on your front. Asking if he was alright. Grabbing his hands to make sure the glass hadn’t cut him.

Simon tailed you like a hulking shadow. Glowering down at Soap something fucking ferocious. Didn’t even give him time to tell you he was fine. Pulling you back behind his arm by the wrists with a kind of gentleness Johnny had never known the L.T. to possess. You twisted your face in displeasure, batting his hands away and stepping back out from behind the wall that was your husband. Ignoring the wine and the soft crunch of glass under your shoes.

And to Soap’s absolute bafflement, Simon stood down. Didn’t try to yank you back, didn’t voice his protest, just drew his mouth into a hard line and let you push past him. He was speechless. For what well may have been the first time in his life, John MacTavish had no words. Couldn’t apologize for the mess. Couldn’t crack a joke. Couldn’t even say hello. He was pure dead at a loss.

Somehow, he allowed you to guide him away from the mess he’d made- staining the waxed tile a muted crimson even after the disgruntled looking employee came over to mop it up. Found his voice in your tugging him along after you and Simon to the checkout where you insisted you’d pay for the bottle of bourbon he’d managed not to send careening to the ground. Tried to tell you no, but you’d already sent it down the belt. And by the time you’d rooted through your purse in search of your card, Simon had already finished paying and was tucking his wallet into his back pocket.

Shuffled out with the two of you into the car park. Making a point of putting distance between himself and Simon who was pushing the cart with one hand and had the other planted firmly on the small of your back. Always walking on the side of oncoming traffic.

Johnny tried to keep up with your conversation. Asking him about his break. Where he was staying and for how long. How had he been. But it was tense. He could feel Ghost’s eyes on the back of his head. Burning through him. Making him feel like he had a target tacked to his skull.

He said a quick goodbye when Ghost helped you into the passenger seat of your car. You said you’d see him soon enough, said if he had any extra time before they went back he’d have to come by for dinner. Simon closed the door before you could say anything else. Looking monumentally irked.

The two men stood in suffocating silence while Simon unloaded the groceries into the trunk. Johnny tried to ignore the glinting of the silver band on the L.T’s finger. Caught the light every time he set a new bag in the back. A little unsure if he was being dismissed or if Ghost was just waiting until he was certain you wouldn’t hear the lashing he was bound to receive.

But it all stayed relatively calm. Maybe the eye of the hurricane. Simon pushed the bottle of bourbon into his chest before swinging the trunk shut.

“Appreciate if you’d keep this between us.”

Ghost spoke first, the words sounding a bit sticky in his throat- like they didn’t want to come out.

“‘Course.”

Johnny’s voice wasn’t much better. Both of them shifted on their feet. Not use to this kind of conversation. Uncomfortable being pushed from their usual dynamic.

Simon just nodded, moving to push the cart back to the corral. Johnny followed.

“How long you been keepin’ this in?”

“Which bit.”

His response was flat.

“Dinnae, L.T. Seems yer a man o’ mystery these days.”

Soap prodded, unable to help himself. A smile crept into his voice.

“Don’t push it.”

Simon bit back.

“Bonnie thing for a brute like you.”

“Johnny.”

“Looks ready’ta pop.”

A harsh sigh from Ghost. He reached into his jacket pocket like he was going for a cigarette. Tightening his jaw when his hand showed back up empty. He hummed his agreement.

“Few months.”

They’d reached Johnny’s car by this point. Just a few rows over in the car park. Stood by his driver’s side door shuffling their feet once more.

“Ken it’ll turn out like you?”

He couldn’t help but ask. Never pictured Ghost the fatherly type, but the idea was growing on him now that it’d been planted in his mind.

“Hope not.”

Simon gruffed back. Johnny snorted.

“Boy o’ girl?”

This earned him a nasty look, but he figured he was in deep enough as it was. No harm in asking.

“Girls.”

[hunterbunter3000]

OMG SWEETHEART GETTING THE GUYS WORKED UP😍 GET IT GIRLFRIEND

imagine she wears on the those dresses that have HIGH ass slits on both sides showing off her thighs and a sliver of her ass. just a peak yk..a little tease for later

WHHOOOOO

I mean it looks so beautiful on her. Hair in thick, long braids, pearls interwoven in the hair by delicate hands, with gold sparkly jewelry adorning on her skin. She looks like ethereal royalty, sultry makeup and hair. Lips glossy and plump with such a pretty color and nails dipped in gold.

And that dress...

It might as well be a second skin, with how sinful it looks on her. A black Spaghetti strapped body con dress with the deepest v-line they've ever seen. And when she walks, the splits show off her shiny, thick thighs and her long "Stairway to Heaven" legs-- fuckkkkkk

The clicks of her gold gladiator heels makes all of their fantasies want to come true. "Alright, boys! How do I look?" She asks with a smile as she pivots her back towards them. Oh hell, you can see some of her ass-- who the fuck made this dress?

Gaz inhales deeply and Alex bites his fist. Soap has drool coming out of his mouth while Ghost is hiding his crotch behind a pillow. "You look absolutely gorgeous, princess." Price tells her with a low voice, his crossed arms straining against his chest. "Strahlend..." König whispers to himself. "Good." Horangi flats out. He mechanically gives her a thumbs up, not noticing the blood trickling out of his mask. "Good, good. Very good style."

Sweetheart giggles, collecting her purse. "Awww, thanks guys! I'll see you later, okay?" As she was turning around, she drops her wallet on the floor. She mumbles a curse under her breath and bends down to retrieve it.

I mean, good lord. They can only take so much.

[lavenderrkissed]

been thinking about biker ghost and ommggmgggggg im kicking my feet blushing giggling squealing rolling throwing up

listen. he always has an extra helmet just for you, so he can be prepared whenever his princess needs a ride

loves the feeling of your arms wrapped around his waist, or sometimes his neck as well (may or may not go extra fast just so he can feel your grip tighten on him, your torso pressed right against his back)

-puts his hand over yours every so often, gloved thumb caressing yours

he'll also occasionally give your thigh a small pat or squeeze, mostly when stopped at a red light, leaning back into you

- he can't help it, he just loves his backpack too much !!!!

CALL ME CHEESY OR WTV BUTTTT i feel like he'd love those moments when you two "kiss" by bumping helmets together (im sorry its just too cute i had to add it) he just melts every time

he's the type to be like, "hold on tight, baby"

SHSJSJSJJW mueheehehhhehehee i need more ideas

[ohbo-ohno]

blatantly inspired by tlou but currently thinking about a zombie apocalypse au where reader is lost and alone, no one to help her and no clue where to go, and she stumbles into this random trap in the forest, ends up in a pit in the ground. she just sits down there feeling sorry for herself cause she thinks there’s no way she’ll ever survive now that she’s trapped with no way out :(

and then here comes ghost, checking to see what set off one of his traps and he sees a pretty little thing, teary and dirt-covered. she’s clearly helpless without him, and he might be a little heartless but he’s not just gonna leave her down there to starve. so he helps her out and takes her back to his base <3

[krypticcafe]

if I see another person mistake Keegan P. Russ as a Modern Warfare timeline character I swear I'm going to lose it PUT SOME RESPECT ON COD: GHOSTS NAME!! AND REALIZE THAT THE WALKER BROTHERS AND KICK ARE RIGHT!!! THERE!!!

[devilanon]

ask and ye shall receive.

He had blurted it out maybe a minute and a half into you two kissing.

Your hand had been steadily creeping up the length of his thigh, mouth pressed against his, when Konig pulled back from you, lips shiny with spit, and spilled his guts. “I’m a virgin.”

It took nearly all of your willpower to school your expression into an appropriate one of surprise. Of course he was a virgin; he had been breathing heavily the moment you crawled onto him, and the second you swiped your tongue against the seam of his mouth he’d let out a noise like he was dying. But still, you didn’t want to embarrass him, and raised your brows in a perfunctory show of shock. You blinked at him, watching as he fidgeted nervously. The mattress of his bed squeaked a little.

Konig stared down at you, face all shiny with sweat, his eyeblack rubbed mostly off, the remnants a dark shadow across his eyes. He already looked a little fucked out, if you were honest, pupils blown and hair a mess. Post-victory KorTac Karaoke Night (nearly mandatory, at this point) had done a number on him, clearly.

“...Did you still want to keep going?”, you questioned, trying to keep your tone even, for his sake. This was clearly a big deal for him, and you didn’t want to belittle him by acting like what he’d just shared was unimportant. His nerves were obviously getting to him. To your surprise, Konig nodded furiously, the little strands of hair that had pulled free from his bun brushing against his nose. “Scheiße, shit, yes. I just— this doesn’t bother you?” He looked at you carefully, scrutinizing your expression, like he expected you to laugh at him any moment.

“Konig.” You laced your fingers with his — his palm is clammy and swallows yours whole. “I’ve been trying to fuck you for the past… three months? If you haven't noticed.” You level him with a look that sends a shiver up his spine, makes his fingers twitch under your grasp. “No. It doesn’t bother me.”

He lets a long breath through his nose, trying to steel himself. “But I don’t know what I’m doing.” He looks lost, brows pinched in concern. He’s so innocent, puppydog eyes and all. You want to make him cum so hard he cries.

You sink to your knees, pushing your way between his legs, and he makes a strangled sound in his chest. “I can teach you,” you offer sweetly. You rest your cheek against his jean-clad thigh and feel the length of him, hot and hard, pressing up against your face. “Please,” he breathes out, sounding vaguely like a deflated balloon. His face is beet red as he stares down at you with what looks like awe. It’s all very cute, so cute that you’re compelled to press little kisses to the outline of his cock, just to see what other noises he can make. He squirms, his huge fists curling into the sheets of his bed. You pull his zipper down with your teeth, and he stares down at you dumbly like a deer in the headlights. His inaction strikes you, and you pause. He really has no clue what to do, does he? “Lift your hips, baby,” you instruct gently, pulling at his belt loops, and he complies immediately, like he’s just been given an order by his commanding officer. He lets you shuffle his pants down to his knees, past his thick thighs, leaving him sitting on the edge of the bed in his boxers. He’s big, for sure, straining against the fabric with a small wet patch forming right where his tip would be. He quickly moves to take his boxers off without being asked, and his cock springs out, thwacking against his tummy eagerly.

“Good,” you hum appreciatively, not missing the way his breath hitches in his throat at your praise. You can’t suppress the evil little grin that crawls onto your face — you try again, voice velvety, as you grab the base of his cock. “You’re such a good boy, Konig. You listen so well.” His cock throbs in your hand. Bingo.

You stroke him slowly, watching him squirm in your grasp; he’s long, thick and uncut, precum beading at the head of his red tip. “Danke,” he wheezes out, words breathy. He hardly has time to react when you press a sweet kiss to the head of his dick, twisting your grasp at the base of him. His hand shoots up, then lingers in the air, like he doesn’t know what to do with it. “You can grab my hair, honey,” you encourage, mouth half-occupied as you run your tongue over his veins, his slit; when you suction your lips around his head and sink further down he lets out a little wail, his big hand sliding to the back of your head, gripping your roots tight.

The atmosphere of his bedroom is heady and hot; the sounds of your mouth moving wetly on his cock, the smell and feel of the sweat gathering on his thighs makes you moan around him. The vibration makes him twitch, keening in pleasure as he fucks up into your mouth, his cock sliding further into your throat. You gag at the intrusion, pulling back from him. He feels dizzy looking at you, cheeks flushed, drool running down your chin. You level him with a chiding look, gripping the base of his cock, and he at least has the presence of mind to seem a little sheepish. “Konig, you’re too big.” You press a palm against his hips, pinning them to the bed. You know your strength is nothing compared to his, that your touch is more of a warning than anything else, but he stills obediently anyway. “You can’t fuck my face tonight, baby.” You lower your head again, peering back up at him through your lashes. “Maybe later.” You swallow him again, relaxing your throat in an effort to take him to the hilt. You’re close, but he’s too big for you to reach the bottom, too heavy in your throat— you’re getting lightheaded, massaging his shaft with your tongue, tugging gently on his balls as he writhes and squirms under you, trying to work the full length of him.

“Good boy, so sweet for me,” you murmur, pulling back with a pop to work his cock with both hands, the sound wet and obscene. “Shit,” Konig whines, sounding desperate. His abs twitch with effort as he tries not to fuck up into your grasp. “Please, please,” he chants, prayer-like, chest rising with his quickening breath. His eyes are glossy with tears. He’s close; you can feel him pulsing in your hand, veins thrumming. He cries out when your mouth goes back to his cock, taking him as far as you can go, your nose pressing against the curls of his pubic hair. “Feels good, can’t—“ He curls into himself when he comes, looming over you, his grip on your head forcing you to take him deeper as he floods your throat with his seed. He’s stammering out what sounds like an apology as he works his hips against your face. You gag with the sheer quantity of his come, his thick spend leaking from the seams of your lips.

You’re breathless and coughing when he lets you up, his softening cock slipping out of your mouth. Konig is flat on his back, heaving, and he twitches and moans when you press a kiss to his thigh.

When you finally climb up beside him, knees sore (they’re definitely going to bruise, you think), he looks dazed, like his brain’s leaked out of his ears. He looks at you with a dopey smile, flashing his crooked canines at you when you press a kiss to his temple. “Good?” “Ja.” You flop down beside him, and he presses the length of his body against you, pulling you flush to his side. “Anytime, Konig.”

[adaelines]

Ghost fucks hard.

hips slamming into yours at a bruising pace, one hand holding both of yours above where you lay, the other on the back of your head holding you down against the bed.

he was rough, so much bigger than you. you could sob, cry, whine and he wouldn't stop, he'd take what he wants from you as much as he wants, whatever he wants, and he wouldn't stop until you were begging him to, until he had his fill.

with you, he'd go for hours. round after round of hard fucking, hips rutting into yours, practically mounting you with how he held you down against the bed.

he'd be so filthy too, mask simply pulled up above his mouth enough for him to kiss and bite, enough for him to growl directly in your ear.

"such a good pet," he'd say, voice husky and low, "good fuckin' thing, below me, taking me like it's all you're worth… so fucking tight too, doesn't matter how much I cum inside this hole, you're always so tight around me… fuckin' made for me, huh?"

Simon, however, is soft.

It's a distinguishing difference from Ghost, although they're both your boy, both the man you love, it's different.

his arms would be wrapped around you so tight, holding you as close as he could, practically glued to you. he'd want you skin to skin, no mask, nothing between the two of you, nothing to keep him from any part of you.

he wouldn't think too much about what position he'd take you in, anything is fine as long as he can see your face, hold you close. all that matters to him right now is you. he'd spend hours going down on you, making you cum more times than you could count, before he'd even think about fucking you.

his lips would constantly be on you somewhere. your own, your shoulder, your neck, anywhere. all he'd care about is you, showing you how much you mean, how much he adores you.

"Love you," he'd start, soft and full of so much love it had you tearing up, "Love you s'fucking much… Can't go without you, can't fuckin' think when you're not around, never leavin' again… You take me so well, so deep, could spend forever inside you, can't fuckin' believe you're mine."

Both of them mean the world to you, both of them would give you the stars if you simply asked.

[cerise-on-top]

hi! how would Valeria and Kate react if their wife’s got hurt because of their work, both of them working highly jobs and it ended up catching up to their s/o. hoe you are doing well and drink plenty of water! thank you!

-🍒

Hello! Both of them would be absolutely distraught, but would go about it in different ways!

Valeria’s and Laswell’s Wife Gets Hurt Because of their Job

Valeria: Whoever hurt you will wind up tortured and eventually, once she thinks they’ve had enough of their miserable life, will wind up dead. Naturally, the first thing she does is check up on you, see if you’re alright and well, that’s her priority. You’re the love of her life, there’s no one else in this world she wants to see do well. You’ll be admitted to the best hospital nearby and will only get the finest treatment. Once you’re stabilized, that’s when the hunt begins. Whoever hurt you won’t get too far since that bastard’s life will be on the line. Regardless of where they might be hiding, Valeria will find them and show them that death is actually a kind of mercy. She has pretty much everything at her disposal, everything money can buy, this sucker won’t know what hit them. If it’s revenge they want, then revenge they’ll get. Valeria promises you that their head will be on a silver plate. She’s not very good with words when it comes to comforting someone, but she will have that person killed in the most cruel ways she can imagine. In fact, she’ll take the pleasure of torturing them upon herself. Once she’s done, she’ll take some days off, which is surprising since she usually can’t afford that at all. You’ll be under her direct care for those days. Anything you want you’ll get. Afterwards there will be a slight shift in her demeanor, Valeria becomes more protective over you. Sometimes she might even assign some trusted people of hers to watch over you since she can’t afford something like that happening again. While she can’t always take some days off, she’ll try to be closer to you anyway. Always texting you, finding excuses to come home for a day maybe. She just really needs to make sure you’re okay, she wouldn’t know what to do with herself if you died.

Laswell: Laswell will try to be a bit more diplomatic about it at first, trying to coax whoever hurt you out of hiding. This person will be held accountable for their crimes against her world. Naturally, she rescues you first, gets you to the nearest hospital and won’t leave your side until you’re stable again. If it takes you a while to wake up again, she’ll leave to find the fucker and make sure they swim with the fishes. She has a pretty large, efficient network and will find out who it was fairly easily. Once she knows who they are, she won’t hesitate to find out all their past crimes as well, if they hurt you then they must have done some other awful things as well. Once that phase is over, she’ll go to their home herself and have them arrested, put in the worst prison imaginable where the inmates are treated especially badly. She won’t kill them, but she wouldn’t be surprised if they wind up dead anyway. Laswell usually isn’t an evil person, but she does hope that person dies during their time. Their sentence will be as long as possible so there’s no chance of them ever seeing the sunlight again either. Once all of this is over, she, too, would take some days off to spend with you. You’re a priority above all else, so Laswell will want to be there for you, no matter the cost. While she usually isn’t, depending on how severely you got hurt she might become a bit overbearing, a bit overprotective. That overprotectiveness will last for a few months, afterwards she’ll try to give you some space again. However, she’ll always be keeping a closer eye on you, always texting or calling you every once in a while to make sure you’re okay. If she needs to, she’ll put you under her protection officially, but the situation needs to be dire for that to happen. Either way, she’ll be keeping you safe.

[mrshesh]

"a...worm?" - call of duty: ghosts x reader

overview: cod:ghosts men reacting to you asking if they'd still love you if you were a worm

pairing: call of duty: ghosts men x gender neutral reader, romantic

genre: fluff

a/n: this was requested by @simpforhotmaskedmen! thank you for requesting this, babe! and thank you for wanting me to include kick - i love that man a bit too much. i had a blast writing this. i will always love these worm requests.

x keegan russ

His eyes widen immediately. He isn’t confused - he’s merely amused at your ability to keep thinking of stupid scenarios. 

He secretly finds it adorable. It just adds to your charm. 

“Babe… what?” 

“Would you still love me if I was a worm? It’s an easy question.” 

“I mean, yeah.” He quickly says. He doesn’t put much thought into your fantasy life as a worm. All he knows is that he loves you regardless of what you are. 

He would have a hard time in the beginning. He would find it freaky that you, his partner, are in a worm’s body. 

But eventually, he’d adjust. He would keep you in his pocket, checking up on you constantly. “Are you hungry?” “Do you need anything?” “Are you hurt?” are only some of the questions he’d ask you daily. Would he receive an answer? No. Would he keep asking them? Absolutely. 

“You need medication, babe.” 

x kick

Kick’s initial reaction is just: “What? 😀”

“How do you even come up with these questions?” He would mostly just be confused. 

“Would you, though?” “Yes, of course.” 

Despite his bewilderment, he would realistically take superb care of you. 

He would let you slither in his hands like a snake constantly. He would want to keep his eye on you to ensure your safety, but he would encourage you to be independent. 

He would teach you how to survive individually in life-or-death situations - to further ensure your health. (He would research worm’s way of life for you 🙁💗.)

He would even go as far as to keep a leaf with him at all times in case you got hungry. 

“How would I kiss you?” “On the tip of the body?” “I wouldn’t know if that’s your face or ass, though.” 

x logan walker

A blank stare is all you get initially. Logan soon gives you a small smile, though. He thinks your question is cute as hell.

“Yes.” He’s as blunt and honest as always. He would love you a lot, even if you were a worm. 

However, he would not know what to do.

He would not know how to take care of you. Sure, he’s smart, but he’s not a worm expert. 

He would find himself locking you in his room before his missions, only to return to the room with leaves and dirt in hand because he would forget that you need to eat while he’s gone. 

His knowledge would eventually evolve enough for him to keep you in a big dirt-filled container. 

Logan has always been a quiet man. He doesn’t talk unless he needs to. But if you turned into a worm, he would go out of his way more often to remind you that he loves you. 

I can see him petting you gently before he goes to sleep. ☹️

x david "hesh" walker

David has no shame in laughing at your question. A worm? Seriously? 

He, like Keegan, would not give your question much thought. He just instantly knows that he would love you regardless. 

“Yeah, babe! Of course, I would.” He chuckles. You never fail to amuse him.

He would be a little confused, but he’d have the spirit! 

He would let you be outside during the day and bring you inside when it's time to sleep. 

When you aren’t outside doing… worm things, he would keep you on his shoulder. And, my God, he wouldn’t shut up. David would talk to you as if you were a human to make you feel included and seen, in a way. (And because he loves talking to you.)

He would even stay with you outside to keep you company if you’d like! He would sit on the grass next to you, talking to you about anything and everything while you dug yourself into the dirt. 

“Is it legal to get married to worms, or?” 

x elias "scarecrow" walker

He immediately bursts out laughing. He loves how comfortable you are with him, to the point where you can ask him things like this. 

“Yes, hun.” He snorts. “I would still adore you.” 

Elias, unlike everyone else, would think about your life as a worm on a high-detail level. He would consider different possibilities and roadblocks along the way of your worm life. “It would be difficult, but that has never stopped me.” 

He would be a great caretaker! 

He would get a bit frustrated that you can’t verbally communicate, so he would teach you a made-up language between you. The language would consist of different physical moves you can do as a worm, and he would just use his words. (Yeah, he gets the easy part. 🙄)

Elias would keep you fed, clean, healthy, happy, and well-rested - he is a father of two very talented boys, after all! He knows how to take care of people (and worms).

“But, I’d prefer it if you stay like this, honey.” 

x thomas merrick

“No.” “Really?” “...No.” 

Thomas is a bitch. We all know this. But he has a soft spot for you - something he doesn’t have for anyone else. He will always love you, no matter what, but he will never admit that. 

He wouldn’t be horrible at caring for you, but he certainly wouldn’t be good. 

He would protect you with his life, though. 

If you even receive as little as a dirty look from someone, he’s knocking their teeth out. 

He would mostly keep you in his pocket. That way, Thomas can keep an eye on you. 

He, like Keegan, would check up on you regularly because if you’re a worm, you need him to survive (or that’s what he thinks).

“Are you hungry?” He would ask, only to scoff to himself. “Who am I kidding? Of course, you are. But since you’re a fuckin’ worm, you can’t tell me, can you?” He would seem annoyed, but the truth is, he wouldn’t be. 

But obviously, he does not want you to turn into a worm. 

“For the love of God, get a hobby.”

[mausinly]

Soap MacTavish x fem!curvy!militarynurse!reader who’s secretly insecure about her body and thinks that Soap is only interested in her to get in her pants or it’s a prank but he comforts her and proves that she’s wrong and how much he genuinely loves her and that he’s been obsessed with her since she was moved to 141’s base?

Never Far From You

John "Soap" MacTavish x reader

Sorry this isn't exactly what you asked for, nonnie, but just know I am already attached to this reader and I will be slowburning this prompt. This story is getting unpacked layer by layer. I know you specified Nurses body type but it's never mentioned in this part. I couldn't find a way to casually fit it in with the idea I had but I will make it the forefront of another piece, don't you worry :]

This is also my submission for @glitterypirateduck and their Soap It Up challenge.

Prompt 2: "Do I make you nervous?"

Prompt 14: "I've been looking for you."

You haven't had to look around corners to check if the coast was clear since high school. It makes you feel childish. Makes you feel like a helpless teenager trying to avoid the prettier girls that whisper and leer when you walk past. You're too old to feel like that.

You don't know if you should be grateful you're not hiding from bullies or be more fearful of the person that's really chasing you.

You don't think you've ever been chased like this before. The girls in the halls never sought you out, and the boys that did only followed to continue jabbing at you as you tried to walk away.

No, this is much different. Too different. You don't know what to do with yourself.

Another nurse told you earlier that someone was looking for you. She gave a knowing smirk, telling you who with a teasing, sing-songy voice.

"Soap MacTavish." She grinned, leaning over the front desk, resting her chin on her hand.

You don't know why everyone thinks you like him. No. No, actually, you know exactly why. He won't leave you alone.

You left one of your patients room—a poor sap going by "Wick" that caught the nasty end of a bayonet—down a few halls to the nearest storage room. You stop before turning the corner, a suspicious feeling bubbling in your gut.

You peek over the corner, met with the rest of the long, bland hallway. He's not here. You don't like the feeling that replaces the suspicion. It's a sinking sensation.

This whole ordeal is eating at you. You know he's around somewhere. Unless he gave up after a while. Took him long enough, in your opinion. Part of you wants to run into him, though, just to get it over with and tell him to fuck off so you don't have to worry about it.

You straighten up again, pulling away from the corner and letting out a heavy sigh.

"So, who're we hiding from?" A horrifyingly familiar Scottish accent said from behind you, low and husky and almost a whisper.

You yelp and whip around to look at him, jumping back a little. Your feet scream to run, but you realize how ridiculous that is. You're an adult, you don't need to run, you're not in real danger.

The way he looks at you is dangerous, though. His eyes are lidded, relaxed as they take you in like he could do it all day. Those striking blues drag up and down your body, landing back at your eyes with such intensity that it makes you want to shy away.

He's so casual it infuriates you. He's just leaning against the wall beside you, arms crossed as he waits for your reply.

"I'm not hiding." You brush him off, tearing your eyes away from him and turning to walk away.

You pause, though, when he lets out a little huff of a laugh, almost a scoff. "Sure." He replied, not sounding all too convinced.

You look over your shoulder to glare at him but he only flashes you one of his little grins, eyes lit up with amusement and brows raised.

A real scoff leaves your own lips and you turn away again and continue down the hall. You suppress the urge to groan aloud when you hear heavy footfalls behind you as the Scot gives chase.

"I've been looking for you." He said, walking only a step behind you.

"That so?" You hum, trying to sound uninterested. Your tone doesn't sway him, it never does.

"Mhm, just asked the lass at the front where they keep the bonnie nurses and figured I'd find you around." He replied easily, and you don't have to look at him to know he's got that smirk on his face.

You hum again, not sure how else to respond. He follows you like a lost dog through the hallways until you reached the storage room. You open the door just enough to slip inside and much to your distain, Soap follows in suit, making a show of opening the door wide and waltzing in like he owns the place.

The storage room is fairly large, filled with rows of files and medications and equipment all broken off into different sections. You wind through the isles and try not to think too hard about Soap's heavy footfalls behind you. It makes you uneasy, fluttery in a way you don't want to think about. You feel like you're being hunted, like a little bunny that pops it's head up at the smallest branch snapping, unaware of the beast lurking just behind the foliage.

You stop walking and quickly turn to him, making him halt in front of you so easily that you think he was expecting it. You don't like that. You're not predictable, damn it!

"Do you need something?" You ask with exasperation, pumping up the attitude and irritation in hopes it scares him off.

You think it works for a second when his smile falters a bit and he has the decency to look a bit surprised by your outburst, but that hope immediately dies when he ducks his head down with a small chuckle that makes your stomach flip. He pulls one of his hands from his pocket and leans his arm on the shelf beside you.

He leans forward just a bit, those overwhelming blues flickering back up to you. "Does there need to be a reason?" He flashes you a lopsided, boyish smile and you feel like the ground is giving away under you.

"You always have a reason." You shoot back, cringing at the way your voice falters.

He notices, eyes looking back and forth between yours as his brows raise a little. "That I do." He replies, voice softer than before.

Soap takes a step closer, back straightening a bit in a way that makes you feel small in comparison. You straighten your back as well, taking a breath that comes in shakier than you wanted. Your attempt at coolness and defiance shatters when his other hand slips from his front pocket and slowly lifts towards you.

He's tentative, eyes holding yours and god, you can't look away. His hand lands on the side of your neck, fingers tenderly ghosting over your skin to see if you flinch away. You don't. You want to. You want to slap his hand away. You want to claw and sink your teeth into him so he'll scurry away with his tail between his legs.

But that won't happen. He'll just drag his way to your exam room and whine until you wrap him up, ask you to kiss it better. You almost want to.

The pads of his fingers drag up your neck and across your cheek. His palm is warm against your jaw and you're frustratingly pliant when he tilts your head. His eyes fall and you swallow when his thumb slowly traces your bottom lip.

"Do I make you nervous, hen?" His voice drops about an octave, low and just above a whisper. His eyes flit up to yours and you're halfway through your brain rebooting when you realize he's waiting for a response.

He isn't, really. He just wants to watch you try.

"No." You manage, a small murmur that in no way can be convincing.

He lets out a soft hum, head slowly tilting as he observes you. You feel like he's picking you apart, piece by piece. Pulling back your hardened shell to watch your innermost workings as they turn and click.

His thumb presses down on your bottom lip, tugging it down a little and he can feel the muted gasp you take. He leans heavier on the shelf beside the both of you and his hand drops away from you. A long, almost pained groan rips from his throat and he pulls back to run his fingers through his mohawk and tug at the strands. He drags his hand over his face and peeks at you through his fingers.

His eyes are narrow and hungry before he tears his eyes away again, waving you off. "Bah. Go get what you were looking for, I'll be finding you later."

You try not to sigh too audibly as you take a few steps back, your body visibly untensing as you put a bit of distance between you two. "Right, see ya." You say, a little clipped before turning on your heel and walking away.

Soaps eyes follow you until you turn a corner and step out of his line of sight, the back of his head falling back against one of the shelves with a thump. Run, little bunny. You're lucky he likes a chase.

[ghouljams]

😈 fae!König who just wants to live his life, why won't you let him live his life? Why do you keep Looking at him? You're not supposed to Look at him.

He only wandered in here because it felt like Fall, all the lovely dying flowers, he missed his season. But it's too crowded for his liking, too many other fae and humans enjoying the ever present feeling of decay. What is it with you? How are you Looking at him?

This guy is a fucking mess, you think to yourself, smiling up at the Goliath that is fidgeting in front of you. He leans forward to stare at you, you lean back, trying to maintain some level of distance between the two of you. He smells like wet dirt, rich and dark and deep, you like it but he's too close. You're used to being stared at though, at least by his kind. You don't really know what they call themselves but they're easy to spot. You do your best to avoid them most of the time.

"Vas ist das?" He reaches a hand toward you and you lean as far back as you can, his fingers pausing where they would have touched you. You've learned your lesson on that little trick enough times, and you can't afford to close up shop to nurse the migraine it'll give you. "Oh," he laughs a little, an awkward chuckle, "Pardon me, that is not polite is it?"

You shake your head quickly, letting him lower his hand back to his side before you straighten up. "Did you need something?" You ask, hoping he's not just hear to enjoy the atmosphere. He blinks at you, slow and purposeful, before his head tips to the side. His hood shifts to accommodate the movement, you wonder what that's about.

"How are you doing that?" He asks, the accent is cute. So he's twice out of place, you think with a frown.

"I'm not doing anything."

"But you are," he insists, he straightens up and glances around the shop, you also glance around the shop not sure what else to do. His hand comes up again, toying with the edge of his weird obscura hood before lifting it up just past his lips. "You are looking! What do you see?"

What you see are some mean looking teeth. Perfectly white in a perfectly neat cemetery row are the sharpest looking teeth you've ever seen in your life. Perfect deadly triangles, like shark teeth on crack. He must see your eyes go wide and fearful at the sight of them because his tongue slides across them with a smile.

"Holy shit," You gasp, taking a step away from him. They don't- They don't do this. They've never shown you anything but their masks before, you don't know how to-

"Ah, that is good," he says, letting his hood fall back into place, "Just the eyes then."

You can't stop it when he reaches forward again, and taps you.

[cookiepie111]

Hhhhhh! There's something about this dress! Something about it that screams Engel. Feel like könig would be in awe, his sweet Engel, a princess.

You won his heart the moment you walked in, graceful the very image of a princess. His princess, you will by the end of the night he's sure of that. Would you accept if he asked you to dance. If he wanted to embrace your beautiful form across the ballroom. Feel your warmth as his hand travelled down your back

He truly isn't worthy of the attention you give him

[hunterbunter3000]

Sweetheart and Konig share one of those giant stuffed bears (Djungelskog?) cuddle sessions after tough missions

STOP THATS SO CUTE

AND LOOK HOW BIG IT ISSSSSS

I want one

But omg, you know they do - when Sweetheart purses her lips to König and her eyes are heavy with her eyebrows tugged up a bit, he knows it's cuddling time with Mr. Brownie. (That's the bear's name-- Sweetheart named it ♡) Mr. Brownie stays in König's room because Sweetheart has too much stuff in hers, so they get cleaned and meet up at his room, and as König is getting Mr. Brownie out of his closet, Sweetheart is already under his covers waiting for him.

König's heart swells when he sees her in his bed. Ugh and he gets so excited when he sees her arms out wide and hands grabbing the air for him. AND THE LITTLE WHINE THAT SHE DOES WHEN SHES IMPATIENT FOR KÖNIG IS JUST-- SO CUTE OMG

He walks over to her and gives her Mr. Brownie, and he's shaking-- fighting the urge to take a picture of her snuggling up to this big ole bear with a soft smile on her face. She waves her hand to him to get in the bed and yk he immediately does. He squeezes in, under the covers with Sweets and scoops her up in his big arms. His head is resting on Mr. Brownie, and his hands are holding her close, so close that he can smell her shampoo and her cocoa butter lotion. God, he's in heaven.

König was about to fall asleep but he felt a tug on his hood. "Off..." Sweetheart mumbles with a whine, "Take it off, King."

He chuckles at her sleepy talk, sliding the hood off his head (the one that she made for him) "That better, süßer Kuchen?" He whispers to her. She shivers from his low, raspy voice, yet smiles as she sees his soft expression. She hums, hand going up to his scarred and stubbled cheek as her thumb caresses his skin. He melts in her touch, his hands holding her even closer. Their eyes slowly flutter shut, breathing in sync as Mr. Brownie watches over them.