#Task force Stalker | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lay-z · 4 months ago

Text

I'm in a ✨️ mood ✨️ This is for you @bloodytalefeathers :)

Synopsis: When life gets rough, you forget about your "soft era", and tend to fall back into your toxic traits and coping mechanisms; feigning toughness and hyper-independence until you can crumble and break comfortably behind closed doors. Only nowadays, your loving boyfriend can read the signs and intervene before things can get out of hand.

Pairing: Keegan P. Russ x fem!Reader

Warnings/Info: MDNI 18+ | established romantic relationship; soft!dom!Keegan; lots of comfort; some angst; tw: eating disorder; FLUFF; dirty talk/cussing; fingering; squirting; overstimulation; two idiots in love

Keegan smirks to himself when the sound of you dropping your keys at the front door reaches his trained ears, followed by the door slamming shut, your exasperated sigh and grumbled curses.

There is no malice behind his quiet snicker; he's simply happy that you're finally home, and he can’t see you yet, but he can already pick up on the mood you’re in by simply listening.

He can easily hear it in the pitch of your voice, which cuss words you're using and the way you stomp your feet as you walk.

And he watches wordlessly from his spot on the couch, PS5 controller in hand and an ice-cold beer on the coffee table, as you drag yourself across the open spaced living room, uttering a half-assed "Hey, baby." to him before disappearing down the other hallway towards your shared bedroom ‒ barely sparing him a glance nor telling him to use a coaster under the bottle for the umpteenth time, like you usually would.

The former Marine is almost offended by the lack of attention from you; always craving it like the good ol' devil dog he is, though he lets you get away with it ‒ for now, at least.

His dark brows furrow, eyes flickering down at the table before he grabs one of said coasters anyway, the one with the comic ghost print, just to be safe the next time you come by the living room. Surely, you'll ask him about his day on duty soon, like you always do, and then he'll ask you about yours, working at the office at HQ here on base, and you'll tell him all about it while you curl up next to him on the couch before watching him play for a while.

You don't come back, though.

And when Keegan finally glances at his watch, it's been way over an hour since you came home from work, and he's starting to get suspicious. Hesh, Logan, and Kick keep yapping in the PS party, talking shit over their respective headsets as they play, though their voices merely become background noise to Keegan as his attention begins to shift to more important matters.

Namely, you.

Where are his kisses? Why haven't you bitten him randomly yet? Are you mad at him for being away most of the week without proper communication? You're not on your period; he has memorized your cycle by now. Are you pissed off, because he's playing video games right now? But you've never complained about that before, you're a gamer yourself after all, and if there is something that pisses you off, you’d let him now.

His mind begins to wander and spiral, as it does sometimes when he's getting unsure of something (especially when it comes to you), and before things can escalate, he mentally chides himself and bids a hasty goodbye to his friends and teammates, and before they can even start to protest his early departure, he’s turning off the console.

Something is obviously up with his sweetheart and he's more than determined to figure out what it is.

Meanwhile, you’re inside the ensuite bathroom of the master bedroom. You’ve finally stripped off your tight pencil skirt that has been pushing into your stomach uncomfortably, and the confining blouse that has been tucked into the waistband, along with it. The pair of tights which seam has been chafing between your inner thighs all day, finally comes to rest in the small trash bin next to the bathroom sink, and same goes for the bra which wire has been digging into your flesh after breaking through the fabric, leaving your skin all sore and tender below your breasts.

You’ve barely slept all week, barely eaten anything too, except drinking copious amounts of coffee; work has kicked your ass thoroughly and the death of one of the operators – a young, good man KIA – from a task force you’ve been working closely with for the past months, has left you in a state of shock that you didn’t even have the chance to deal with properly yet.

Needless to say, your life has been a proper shit show and on top of it all, Keegan has been just as busy, if not busier, which has left you feeling even more needy and vulnerable this week. Seeing him finally being able to unwind on the couch when you came home, only made you realize that you can’t possibly bother him with your pathetic clinginess tonight, so you simply kept on walking, determined to hide your misery for a little while longer.

Just a little longer. That’s what you keep telling yourself. Just a little longer and things will surely get better. Even though you’re not actively doing anything to make it better, no. In fact, you’ve been slipping back into old habits, toxic coping mechanisms, that either hurt your body or your soul. Sometimes both. It’s not good, but it is what it is.

It has worked out in the past. That’s good enough to you. It must be.

Eventually, you manage to step into the shower to try and get rid of some tension in your body and that nagging, piercing headache in the front of your skull that’s been bothering you for days now, though to little avail. It’s still there after the steaming shower you take, but it has somehow simmered down to a dull throb now as you towel off and slip on one of Keegan’s old USMC shirts along with a clean pair of cotton panties.

Just when Keegan is about to get up from the couch to look for you, his ears pick up the sound of your bare feet coming down the hallway, cutely padding along the hardwood floor.

His chest constricts tightly, fluttering with sweltering affection, when you finally come into view again, wearing one of his old shirts, the dark fabric a bit too baggy on you, with nothing but some panties underneath. He can see that you’re not wearing a bra and he tries to ignore the way his cock twitches with interest inside his boxer briefs to focus on your well-being instead, but – shit – you always look too good in his clothes to not acknowledge and appreciate it at least briefly.

However, the look you shoot in his direction, standing a few feet away from him, shuffling on the spot a little as you play with the hem of his your shirt, is downright heartbreaking to him.

You look like a tiny, lost and drenched kitten that has been left outside in the freezing cold. It reminds him of the beginning of your relationship, when he had worked hard for your trust and honesty. Back when he had to coax you to open up to him; cooing and coddling and pampering you until you felt safe and comfortable enough to let yourself be vulnerable in his presence.

Now, though, now Keegan can read you better than the palm of his own hand. One good glance at your beautiful face and he knows that you’re not okay, if not physically then mentally, and he suddenly feels his stomach tighten with guilt and self-loathing for not noticing it sooner.

The corners of your mouth are pulling downward with a quivering bottom lip, chin wobbling as you try to keep your emotions in check in front of him like the little control freak you are, eyes glossy and bright and your eyebrows pinched in a sad frown.

Keegan knows the answer, but he decides to ask anyway. “You okay there?”

As soon as your eyes meet his pretty pale blue gaze, you see his usually stoic expression soften, his toned body shifting as he sits up straighter on the couch, and you can feel your throat tighten as you try to swallow around the tight lump forming in it. When his question registers, you shake your head slowly, huffing a small breath through your nose as the dam, still holding back the myriads of negative emotions, finally begins to crack under the ongoing pressure.

Keegan feels an immediate need to pull you into his arms as soon as he watches you shaking your head. He wants to make you curl up on his lap and let him take care of you the way you obviously need him to, but he stays seated as one of his legs starts bouncing restlessly, waiting on you to make the first move once you’re ready.

His resolve doesn’t last long, though.

“C’mere, baby.” He orders then, holding out his arms to beckon you over as soon as he sees a tear brim past your waterline and run down your cheek. At this point, he’s more than ready to simply snatch you up if you don’t comply.

But then, your bare feet pad over the floor again as you swiftly approach, rounding the coffee table to practically fling yourself into his strong, welcoming arms, making him huff out a muffled oof! as he sinks deeper into the couch cushions with the impact of your added weight.

Keegan’s hands settle on your hips as you crawl onto his lap, straddling him. Your weak arms come up to wrap around his neck while you bury and hide your face against the curve of his shoulder, and Keegan lets out a soft, pleased rumble when you cling on to him. His respond is immediate, and he wraps his strong arms around your midriff, hugging you even closer to his body.

“I missed you,” he murmurs against your damp hair, inhaling your comforting scent deeply as he slowly rubs your back with his right hand while the left strokes up and down the side of your bare thigh soothingly. “Why are you shaking, sweetheart? What happened? C’mon, talk to me, please.”

Keegan can feel your tears soak through his shirt as you bury your face deeper into the juncture of his neck and shoulder, and when the sound of your suppressed sobs and snivels reaches his ears, there’s a sharp sting in his chest before his own vision nearly blurs with tears, too.

Missed you. He missed you. God, you’d missed him, too, but then again, Keegan can sit right next to you, and you’d miss him.

“I–I can’t–I just... I need you.” You manage to croak out while your fingers twist and stretch the fabric of his shirt on your fists, desperate to keep him close, scared he might disappear if you loosen your grasp.

“Need me,” Keegan repeats in a rough whisper while his mind races, trying to come up with the right way to handle this. Need me. Fuck, but he needs you, too. “How exactly do you need me?” He asks eventually, left hand coming up to gently massage the nape of your neck until you let him tilt your head back enough to catch another glimpse of your face.

Your eyes are red-rimmed, glossy, pupils blown and surrounded by broken blood vessels. Your lips look dry, your skin lacking your natural glow, and a sinking feeling settles deep in his gut as he realizes how sickly you look. Neglected. Weak. How did he not notice sooner?

His fingers tighten their hold, his thumb pressing deeper into your neck to check your fluttering pulse, making sure you’re still with him, still alive. “Sweetheart–”

He watches your eyes flutter, blinking away tears as you exhale a shuddering breath. “Please,” you rasp softly, swallowing thickly as you gather all your courage to speak your next words, even though your mind, those damn insecurities, are cursing at you not to, “–just kiss me.”

His breathing picks up, along with his heartrate. You can practically watch his pupils dilate at once, pale blue turning a dark shade of grey while his blood rushes south almost instantly at the desperate sound of your voice. And that you can feel, too. The way his cock begins to stir and harden underneath you between your spread thighs while his fingers continue to massage the nape of your neck, slowly managing to get you to relax, like a kitten being scruffed into submission.

The only warning is an imperceptible nod, a quick swipe of his tongue over his bottom lip while his arm around your midriff tightens, before Keegan surges forward to capture your mouth in a deep, passionate kiss.

You're not quite sure how much time has passed at this point, but some random movie is still playing on TV, illuminating the living room this late in the evening, while you've been reduced to a quaking, panting, shivering mess, still seated on Keegan's lap.

He’s stripped you bare, switched your position to have your back flush against his chest before coaxing four orgasms from you with practiced ease. Then again, pushing you over the edge quickly has never been a challenge for Keegan, quite the opposite.

Now, your mind has shut off; your body finally pliant and lax after stopping your initial protest to let Keegan do this, give this, to you. You’ve asked for it, after all, and now your headache is practically gone, and you feel blissfully warm, safe, and soft in his embrace.

With your thighs nicely spread apart and draped over his knees, Keegan keeps alternating between rubbing your puffy little clit and pumping two, sometimes three thick fingers into your sopping cunt, curling them deliciously while he toys and gropes your tender breasts with his free hand, rolling and pinching your hard nipples between calloused fingertips until you can’t do anything but mewl and squirm helplessly in his grip.

His cock is aching; throbbing and straining inside his boxer briefs as your sweet ass keeps grinding against his bulge involuntarily, but he's locked in on your pleasure above all right now.

"Are you feeling any better yet, hm? I'm gonna take care of you all night long, my love. Y'know I will."

"Always such a good fuckin’ girl f’me. Makin’ quite the mess here, hm? Not messy enough, though." He murmurs hotly just below your ear, the proud smirk audible in his voice before he nips at your flushed skin and feels your pussy clench around his fingers; soaking his whole hand, dripping down onto his sweatpants and the dark leather couch.

"Don't you think that I can't tell ya didn't take good care of yourself these past few days," he mutters accusingly before giving your pussy a few gentle slaps with his flat palm, eliciting a high-pitched moan from you; the obscene, wet sounds and your uncharacteristic moan making your face heat up profoundly. "Dehydration is pretty dangerous, baby, and I know you didn't drink nearly enough water."

Of course, the little shit can tell, but you're close again already, so the realization gets pushed into the back of your mind, because Keegan is thrilled to coax more of those sweet sounds from your lips.

You nod slowly, borderline non-committedly. “Mhmm,” you hum with your eyes half-lidded, nails digging deeper into his clothed, thick thighs for leverage; some way to keep you anchored to reality as he rubs your clit in tight circles, coaxing you towards the edge again.

“Promise that you’ll stop hiding from me when you’re feeling like this,” he demands roughly, lips lightly brushing over the side of your neck as he speaks before he licks his flat tongue over your pulse point.

“Promise me. Say it.” He growls this time, teeth grazing the curve of your shoulder as his hot breath pants over your skin, pruned fingers still not stopping their ministrations as you buck your hips with a whine, trying to squirm away on his lap.

You try to keep your noises at bay, but the added sensation of his warm tongue on your sensitive skin makes you shudder, and before you know it, you’re climaxing again; squeezing your eyes shut and gritting your teeth, chest heaving with panting breaths while your cunt clenches around nothing and your whole body twitches and writhes while another wave of pleasure wrecks through your body, though only the tiniest bit of wetness squirts and dribbles over his calloused hand this time.

Yes, you might be dehydrated, indeed.

“F-Fuck–I ah pr-omise, sir!” You cry out, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes once more, though this time it’s the overwhelming pleasure and stimulation bringing you to tears, along with the way your man is currently taking care of you.

And you could swear you can feel his cock swell even harder against your rear when you call him 'sir'.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he coos huskily, peppering kisses between your shoulder blades and up to your nape as he kneads and gropes your trembling thighs, finally giving you a break. “You’re mine, I love you, and I need you to let me look after you, ya hear me?”

Your head lolls back, resting against his shoulder as you nod meekly, butterflies going rogue in your tummy. “I hear you.” You rasp, too exhausted to be bratty and resist, slumping even more against his chest while his arms come up to wrap around you like corded steel, keeping you steady and safe.

"Good." He mutters against your temple, nuzzling his nose into your hair and taking dramatic little sniffs like some mutt before pulling back and nipping your earlobe, making you hiss.

"Ow! What's that for?" You whine dramatically, speech slightly slurred by fatigue and bliss while you don't even bother to wiggle free from his embrace.

The pout in his deep voice is more than evident when he replies: "Didn't even say I love you back, sweetheart."

#keegan p russ #keegan p russ x reader #keegan p russ x you #cod ghosts #cod keegan #call of duty #reader insert #task force stalker #cod #keegan russ #keegan russ x reader #keegan x j :)

483 notes · View notes

sterifels-blog · 4 months ago

Text

call of duty characters - how they react to you falling asleep against them.

alex "ajax" thompson

•ajax isn’t exactly used to seeing anyone vulnerable, especially when you’re asleep on him– so his initial reaction is a stiffening of his posture as if to check if you’re genuinely okay. you’ve been on high-stress missions for days, and your sudden nap is a sign you’re either exhausted or hiding some deeper fatigue that he won’t push you about right now. he’s the type to make sure you’re safe first before anything else, so while you’re napping on his shoulder or chest, you’ll feel the gentle shift of his arm around you, as if he's trying to make sure you don’t slide off the couch where you fell asleep.

•as a man of few words, he won’t wake you up, but he might mumble something low under his breath like, “guess you needed that.” he’ll continue to monitor the situation—always keeping an ear out for any movements or sounds that could alert him to danger. ajax might not be part of ongoing operations, but when you're around, his protective side kicks in full force, even if it’s a little reluctant.

•he’ll sit still for what feels like forever, and when he’s sure you’re safe and sleeping soundly, his grip on you softens slightly, but he doesn’t budge. if he shifts too much, you might stir, and he’s not about to deal with a 'grumpy' you. so, he’ll lean back in the chair or on the couch, even if his body aches from sitting so stiffly. his focus shifts from mission plans and tactical decisions to making sure your breathing stays steady, watching the rise and fall of your chest with an odd sense of peace.

• if you wake up to find his dark eyes staring down at you, expect a quick “you okay?” but nothing more. he’s not about to dive into emotions, but there’s an unmistakable gentleness in his voice. if you seem embarrassed, he’ll smirk just slightly, a silent acknowledgment of your vulnerability, but that’s all.

• ajax doesn’t get affectionate often, but when you’re lying against him, exhausted, he’ll offer the barest hint of warmth—a protective hand on your back or a quick but reassuring squeeze of your hand. he’s not into grand gestures, but these little acts are how he shows care

alex keller

• keller is a quiet yet reassuring presence, so when you fall asleep on him, he doesn’t rush to wake you. instead, he lets you rest your head on his shoulder or lap, his eyes scanning the surroundings with sharp, trained focus. the world around you might be filled with tension, but keller is one of those guys who finds comfort in the stillness. he won’t fidget or try to get up; he’ll let you sleep, knowing it’s been a long and grueling time for you both.

•if you shift a little or murmur in your sleep, he’ll smile softly to himself, his usual stoic expression softening. “relax. we’re good here,” he’ll say in that calm, unshakable tone. keller doesn’t do overtly sweet things, but you’ll notice him leaning into the moment, staying still even as his body is tense, preparing for whatever mission comes next.

•there’s a soft, almost hesitant warmth to his touch when he adjusts your position to make sure you’re comfortable—he never wants to disturb your sleep, but if he has to move, he’ll do it carefully, his large hand sliding over your back, keeping you steady without waking you. his concern might not be voiced, but it's clear in his movements. he's a man of action, not words (sometimes).

•in the safe house, after long missions, when you doze off unexpectedly, alex might keep a quiet vigil over you. his thoughts may wander, but he never stops checking for your safety, even as you sleep like a rock in his presence. he'll offer you a blanket or a jacket if the air turns cold, a silent acknowledgment.

•when you wake up to find him still there, he might ask, “feel better?” his eyes will meet yours, no judgment or fuss, just simple concern. if you look groggy or confused, he might add, “you needed it. don’t worry.” but there won’t be any teasing or push for explanation— he's pragmatic like that.

captain john price

•you and price have had a long, exhausting few weeks— missions, briefings, and constant tension—but now you’re outside, lounging on a lawn bed by the pool, the sun dipping low in the sky, painting the world in golden hues. it’s a rare moment of peace, and price is content just to have you near him.

•as you relaxed, the heat of the day still lingering in the air, your eyes had started to flutter. the sound of the pool water gently rippling lulled- and before you know it, your head was resting on his chest, the familiar scent of cigars and his cologne comforting in the warmth. price doesn't move, not immediately— he's too content with the stillness, watching you with a soft, almost proud expression.

•after a while, price’s cigar burns down to its last inch, and with the slightest, almost imperceptible grin, he takes his old, worn hat off and gently places it over your eyes, shielding you from the afternoon sun. his rough, calloused hand lingers on your head for a moment longer than necessary, a subtle gesture of affection, though it’s not like him to make a big deal out of these moments.

•price doesn’t move much, not wanting to disturb you, but every so often, his eyes flick to the pool, then back to you, his mind half on the world around him and half on the rare luxury of this moment with you. he'll hum a low, contented tune under his breath, the sound almost drowned out by the distant chirp of birds and the light splashing of water.

•you'll both take a nap together because his old ass can't keep himself awake for that long, either. not when he's finally got you all to himself, away from the chaos of everything. being back in a domestic environment is something he adapts harshly to, after each mission. but this time around, it's a little easier— with reason.

captain john "soap" mactavish

•after a particularly brutal mission, the helicopter ride back to base is nothing short of tense, but when you fall asleep next to him, soap’s hardened exterior softens immediately. he’s not one to openly express care—he’s always been about the mission, always the leader. but when you rest your head against his shoulder, there's a protective warmth that floods his chest, and he can't help but shift to accommodate you. his arm, though bruised and worn from the day's battles, instinctively drapes around you, pulling you a little closer, like he’s got to protect you at all costs—even in the quiet moments.

•soap, despite his rough demeanor, has a massive soft spot for those he considers his own, and you're no exception. he’ll look down at you with a slight smile, his tired eyes scanning the surroundings but making sure you're safe. he might mutter something to himself, something in his thick scottish accent, almost like he’s reassuring himself as much as you: "aye, ye’re alright, hen. get yer rest.."

•if you shift slightly in your sleep or start to stir, john will instinctively reach for your shoulder to steady you. his hand, large and calloused, will gently pat your arm or rub your back without a word, the kind of motion that’s familiar and comforting, like it’s second nature to him. he's been through so many missions, so many battles, but holding you close in this moment makes him feel like he’s got something real, something of his own worth protecting. his voice, usually loud and commanding, lowers to a soft hum. "you’ve earned yer sleep, lass."

•he’ll occasionally glance down at you as the helicopter rattles through the air, his gaze softening each time. he’ll probably mutter something like “i've got ye” under his breath, as if to remind you— and himself —that he's there for you, and nothing will harm you while he’s by your side.

•when you wake up, the helicopter’s interior has grown quieter, the hum of the blades a steady backdrop to your grogginess. soap’s arm is still around you, his presence grounding you as you come to your senses. he won’t make a fuss, but you’ll notice a subtle tenderness in his expression. "hope ye got a good rest,” he’ll say with a gentle grin, his usual cheeky tone a little more softened. "you’ll need it for what comes next."

david "hesh" walker

•hesh is a bit of a softie under his tough exterior, and he’d never admit it, but when you fall asleep on him, it’s like the world stops for him. his first reaction might be a slight chuckle, followed by him adjusting his position so you’re more comfortable, even if that means bending in ways that aren't easy for him. he's the kind of guy who’ll let you nap on him without a second thought, but he’ll occasionally glance down at you with this unreadable look in his eyes.

•he’s got this protective side that isn’t super obvious, but it’s there, and it’s in full force when you’re asleep on him. you’ll catch him softly muttering things like “yeah, we got this,” as though reassuring both of you. he’ll keep his movements minimal so you don’t wake up too soon— he knows the value of a good nap, especially in their line of work.

•if you stir in your sleep, he might smirk a little. “didn’t mean to make you move,” he’ll joke, but there’s a certain softness in his voice. when you wake up, you’ll catch him looking at you with a raised eyebrow and a small grin, almost like he’s trying to hide how much he cares. “you’re good, right?”

•if you seem restless, he’ll toss an arm over your shoulder to keep you close, offering the kind of silent comfort that comes naturally to him. "shh.. relax.. i'm right here, just shut your eyes." he’ll whisper, and you can tell he means it, running his fingers through your hair.

•kisses your forehead as you sleep. it's a silent action, one he knows you won't remember come your waking; but that's entirely the point.

derek "frost" westbrook

•frost is the type of guy who’ll act like he’s bothered, but deep down, he’s probably thrilled that you feel comfortable enough to fall asleep next to him. if you’re in a safe house, curled up on the couch or leaning against him, he’ll give you a look at first; but it’s not disapproving. instead, he’ll just throw his arm around you with a smirk, muttering, “you’re lucky i’m nice.” but there’s no malice in his words—he actually enjoys the company.

•he’ll give you a gentle nudge if you start to lean too much one way or another, trying to avoid you from slipping off or looking uncomfortable. his hand will rest on your head for a while, just making sure that you're alright. he’s not about to make a big deal out of it, but he does care about your well-being.

•if you wake up and look a little embarrassed, frost will throw a playful grin your way. “don’t worry about it. i got you.” his tone is light and teasing, but underneath that, there's a layer of genuine concern. if you get up or look restless, he might toss a blanket over you without saying anything, not because you need it, but because he knows it’s a small way to show that he’s there.

•second note: he loves pulling you against his chest, and tucking your head beneath his chin.

dipaolo

•dipaolo is a natural protector at heart, and when you fall asleep on him, he takes it very seriously. he’ll gently adjust his position so that you’re lying more comfortably, never rushing, never shifting too quickly. he’ll let you rest, even if the mission around him is still ongoing. he’s the type to give a quiet sigh, almost resigned, as though he’s just going to wait for you to finish resting so that he can do his job— or for the job to finish so that way he can hold you on the rest of the way back home.

•there’s a warmth to dipaolo that you don’t see from others. even if his eyes are sharp and always scanning the environment, he’ll subtly make sure you’re comfortable, maybe even offering to rub your back or neck if you seem stiff. "you look like you could use a little rest," he might murmur, though he won't push you to sleep more than you need, even though he thoroughly enjoys having you snagged to his side.

•if you're asleep on him, he knows where you are, always. simple solution; he won't have to worry.

•he’ll be the first to offer you food or a drink once you wake up, something to help you regain your energy, and he’ll do it without asking, always anticipating your needs. his gestures are simple but filled with care, whether it’s covering you with a blanket or making sure you’re hydrated.

•on the way back, he's ditched the seat belts, keeping you close to him.

elias walker

•elias is no stranger to tough situations, so when you fall asleep unexpectedly, he doesn’t make a fuss about it. he’ll simply let you rest, adjusting his position slightly so that he’s comfortable without disturbing you (he's not sacrificing his back for your sake). his protective instinct runs deep, and you can tell that he’s not just letting you nap for the sake of it— he’s watching over you.

•his usual calm demeanor doesn’t change when you’re near him, but there’s a quiet gentleness in his touch when he adjusts you or shifts his arm around you. elias is a man of few words, but if you wake up groggy or disoriented, he’ll be the one to reassure you. “rested now? we’ll be fine,” he’ll say simply.

•his favorite thing to do when you’re just beginning to wake up is tilt your chin up, and softly rub his thumb alongside your jaw. type of guy to rub the sleep out of your eyes for you, and then cradle your heavy head to his chest.

•elias might even hold you in his arms a little longer than necessary if you're restless, letting you find your peace, all while keeping an eye on the surroundings. his actions are silent but caring, a subtle contrast to his more intense nature.

enzo reyes

•enzo’s got a reputation for being a little rough around the edges, but when you're with him in a hunting blind, you start to see a different side—a side that’s way more soft and attentive than he lets on in other situations. as the two of you crouch in the quiet of the woods, waiting for the perfect shot, he notices you shift and yawn, clearly exhausted from the hours of stillness. you don't even realize when your head starts to droop, and before you know it, you’ve fallen asleep against him, your shoulder resting against his chest

•at first, enzo’s a little surprised, but then he lets out a small, affectionate chuckle, the kind that’s a mix of disbelief and fondness. "guess you couldn’t last much longer, huh?" he doesn’t want to wake you, though, especially not when the air is chilly and you look so peaceful leaning against him. so, he adjusts his position carefully, making sure you’re secure and don’t slip off the bench you’re sitting on.

•the longer you stay asleep, the more relaxed he gets. enzo's usual alertness fades, and instead, he settles into a more comfortable position, keeping one arm around you loosely, almost like it’s second nature for him to keep you close.

•you might shift a little in your sleep, mumbling a bit, but enzo just lets out a low chuckle and adjusts the collar of your jacket so it isn't choking you. his movements are careful and deliberate, trying not to wake you, and there’s a warmth in the way he holds you steady. he murmurs under his breath, “rest up, sweetheart. i've got this."

•enzo doesn’t let go of you immediately, when you wake up. he keeps his hand resting on your arm or back, rubbing it gently, his thumb brushing over your skin in a soft, almost absent-minded way. "you good now? you know, i don’t mind you napping here. i’m comfy, too."

erikson

•erikson is a bit of a contradiction—he’s gentle and charming, the kind of guy who makes you feel like you’re the only person in the room without ever needing to say it out loud. the moment you fall asleep next to him, he doesn’t see it as an inconvenience but an opportunity to be close to you. he’ll pull you towards him carefully, his arms wrapping around you with a tenderness that reflects his true nature. it’s almost like he’s afraid of being too rough, so he keeps his movements soft and considerate, ensuring you’re comfortable.

•you’ll find that erikson doesn’t try to control or possess in the way others might; instead, he settles into the moment with you, as if savoring the peace you bring. he might lean his head back against the armrest or wall, his eyes drifting shut, but always keeping you near, his fingers lightly brushing your skin as if he's memorizing every part of you. his touch is delicate, never forcing you to stay, but always making sure you feel secure and cared for.

•if you stir during your nap, he’s quick to adjust his position, making sure you’re still comfortable, maybe pulling you in closer just a little. his smile, soft and warm, will appear if you meet his gaze when you wake up. "you okay?" he’ll ask, his voice light but full of genuine concern. he’s not just asking because it’s polite; he wants to make sure you’re not just physically okay but that you feel safe and content in his arms.

•even if you’re not technically sleeping—just resting with your head on his shoulder or your hand in his— erikson’s presence is soothing. he doesn’t crowd you, doesn’t pressure you to be anything but comfortable in the moment. he simply enjoys being close to you, letting the calm wash over both of you.

•if you fall asleep completely, he’ll stay quiet, keeping his breathing steady so you can rest. his hand might gently stroke your hair or rest on your side, nothing too intense but enough to reassure you that he’s right there. he doesn’t need to be possessive or overwhelming— he’s secure in the fact that you trust him enough to fall asleep near him.

farah karim

•farah is all about strength and resilience, but when you fall asleep on her, a softer, sisterly side of her emerges. she doesn’t show it outright, but there’s a deep care in the way she handles the situation. if you’re leaning on her during a long night in the safe house, she won’t push you away or disturb you. instead, she adjusts her position carefully, making sure you’re comfortable without waking you up. she might drape an extra scarf or jacket over you if you start to shiver, murmuring quietly to herself about how you "never take care of yourself properly".

•if this happens during downtime on a mission, farah is quick to take on the role of protector. she’ll keep an eye on the surroundings, rifle resting across her knees, while letting you rest on her shoulder. she might sigh softly, shaking her head with a small, affectionate smile, as if you’re her little sibling she has to watch over. “you never know when to stop, do you?” she’ll whisper under her breath, though there’s no real frustration in her voice— just care.

•when you stir or wake up, farah’s expression is calm and reassuring. “you needed that,” she’ll say, her voice steady but warm, like an older sister who always knows what’s best. if you try to apologize, she’ll wave it off, giving you a firm but kind look. “don’t. you’ve been pushing yourself too hard. rest is just as important as the fight.”

•farah might tease you a little if the situation allows for it, but her words are always meant to encourage rather than scold. “don’t let the general catch you like this,” she’ll say with a raised eyebrow, but her smile gives away her affection. if you’re still groggy or upset when you wake, she’ll quietly offer some advice or comfort. “you don’t have to carry everything on your shoulders. i am here. let me help."

•by the time you’re fully awake, farah’s already back to being her composed, no-nonsense self, but the way she looks at you—steady, protective, and full of quiet affection—makes it clear that she’s got your back, no matter what. she treats you like family, always ready to stand by your side and make sure you’re okay, even if she doesn’t say it outright. you mean the world to her. more than you'll know.

frank woods

•woods is the kind of guy who'd act like he’s annoyed if you fell asleep on him, but deep down, he secretly enjoys it. he might grumble under his breath, but when you’re knocked out on him—whether it's in the back of a jeep or leaning against him in the safe house—he’ll stiffen for a moment before letting you settle in. woods doesn't do vulnerability well, so having someone depend on him like this is a rare moment for him, and he’s reluctant to admit it, even to himself.

•his rough exterior doesn’t mask the care he’s quietly showing. he’ll gruffly put his arm around you, making a big show out of it, making sure you stay in place, but it’s not just out of duty. he’s also making sure you’re comfortable, though he won’t ever say it. if you wake up, you might find him looking at you with an eyebrow raised and a smirk. “that comfortable, huh?” he’ll tease, but underneath it is a hint of softness in his voice that he doesn't often display.

•he might? throw a jacket over you or offer a blanket if he sees you shivering, all while muttering under his breath about not letting the mission go to hell (but, he's the type that as soon as you fall asleep, he's cracking his extra handwarmers and slipping them into your gloves, and into your boots). woods is a man of action, so when you fall asleep on him, he makes sure you’re safe and protected—even if he’s still grumbling about how inconvenient it is. “ain’t no one gonna get you while you’re asleep on me,” he’ll mutter, though the sentiment is clear.

•if you wake up in the middle of a tense situation, you’ll see him scanning the area with a sharp focus, his protective instincts on full display, but when he catches your eye, he’ll give you a wink and an assurance: “we’re good.”

•nonchalant, but the most caring of out them all, by far

gary "roach" sanderson

•roach doesn’t say a word when your head drifts onto his shoulder in the back of the humvee. the engine hums softly, the tires crunching over dirt roads, and the faint chatter from the team up front fills the air. he freezes for a split second, caught off guard, but quickly adjusts himself so you’re more comfortable. his body language softens in a way only those close to him would notice—shoulders relaxing, his posture slightly leaning toward you to provide more support.

•he’s not one for grand gestures, but his care is in the details. roach tugs his sweater off and drapes it over you, careful not to jostle you too much. he doesn’t mind the cold seeping through his shirt if it means you’re warm. his hand hovers for a moment, debating whether to brush the stray hair out of your face. instead, he settles for tucking the sweater collar closer around your neck to keep the draft out.

•the others might glance back and chuckle at the sight, but roach ignores them completely, his focus entirely on you. he’s silent, as always, but the way he keeps still—despite the bumps and jolts of the humvee—speaks louder than words. every movement is calculated, making sure you can rest without interruption. he doesn't want you to wake up.

•when you stir a little in your sleep, maybe shifting or mumbling, he tilts his head slightly to check on you. there’s no dramatic display, just a quiet vigilance, his gaze flickering between you and the terrain outside. if the vehicle jerks or lurches too hard, his arm instinctively comes up to steady you, his gloved hand resting lightly against your shoulder to keep you from slipping.

•when you wake up, blinking groggily and maybe a little humiliated by the reality, roach doesn’t make a big deal out of it. he doesn’t say anything, just gives a small nod and a faint, understanding smile. his sweater stays draped over you until you hand it back, and even then, he doesn’t let you apologize. he simply takes it, shrugs it back on, and taps your arm lightly before resuming his quiet watch.

•for roach, actions always speak louder than words. you won’t catch him teasing or making a fuss, but the way he lets you rest on him—how he adjusts to make sure you’re safe and comfortable—shows just how deeply he cares in his quiet, unassuming way.

general shepherd

•shepherd’s got a lot on his plate, so when you unexpectedly fall asleep on him, it’s not something he’s used to. he’s far more accustomed to being the one calling the shots than being in a position where someone is leaning on him for comfort. however, when you do, he takes it with a stoic expression, still sitting straight-backed like a military leader should, but his gaze softens for a moment as he watches over you.

•he’ll take a deep breath, continuing to keep an eye on the situation, his mind constantly working through plans and contingencies. but when it’s just the two of you, and you’re asleep on him in his office, he allows himself to relax, just a little. shepherd won’t disturb you, letting you sleep while he keeps his vigil over the room or the window. he’s not one for outward displays of affection, but you’ll find that his protective instinct runs deep, and he quietly ensures that you’re safe and secure.

•if you wake up and find him still there, he’ll just nod in acknowledgment. “we’re still good,” he’ll say flatly, though there’s an unusual calmness in his voice. shepherd isn’t one for pleasantries, but his subtle care comes through in these moments when you’re least expecting it.

•if you seem stressed or worried when you wake, he might offer a few words of encouragement, his tone more fatherly than commanding: “you're fine. come here." he pats between your shoulderblades, rubbing his hand up and down your spine as he works on some extended paperwork that's overdue.

•still an asshole at heart, though.

gabriel t. rorke

•when you fall asleep on rorke, he doesn’t make a big fuss about it, but you can bet he notices. if you’re on a couch or somewhere relatively quiet, he’s the type to pull you into his lap without a word, letting you settle against him while he leans back and continues whatever he’s doing—usually watching TV or lighting up a cigarette. his arm naturally falls around your waist, holding you in place like it’s the most natural thing in the world. he doesn’t mind the weight of you resting on him; if anything, he seems to like it.

•as you sleep, he’ll occasionally glance down at you, his expression unreadable but with a hint of something softer than his usual tough exterior. he might absentmindedly run his fingers along your arm or brush a hand over your hair, his touch surprisingly gentle for someone who carries so much darkness with him.

•if you start to stir or move in your sleep, he won’t say much, but he’ll adjust you without waking you up—propping your head against his chest or tucking you closer into him. the glow of his cigarette and the low sound of the TV fill the space, but his focus is split between what’s on the screen and making sure you’re still comfortable.

•if you wake up, his reaction depends on the mood. he might smirk down at you and say something teasing, like, “you always this needy?” but the way he holds onto you even after you’ve woken up tells you he doesn’t mind in the slightest. if you apologize for dozing off, he’ll scoff and shake his head, taking a slow drag of his cigarette. “don’t sweat it,” he’ll say casually, his voice low and gravelly. “not like i had anywhere else to be.”

•rorke might not be the overly sentimental type, but in moments like this, he’s surprisingly accommodating. he likes having you close, even if he doesn’t always say it outright. the way he keeps you secure in his lap, one hand resting protectively on your hip, shows that beneath the hardened exterior, there’s a part of him that relishes in your trust and closeness.

james ramirez

•ramirez isn’t used to this. he’s always been the guy working alone, the silent operator who keeps his head down and his rifle up. so, when you come along, leaning against him during the quiet moments of a post-watch, trusting him enough to fall asleep on his side, he doesn’t know how to process it at first. gor a split second, he freezes, his brain running through a hundred scenarios, none of which included this.

•but as the seconds tick by, he adjusts—just like he’s always done. ramirez doesn’t move a muscle, his breathing slow and measured, knowing even the smallest shift might wake you. you’re tucked against him, and the chill of the night air doesn’t seem to bother him anymore. without thinking, he lets his body warmth do the work, keeping you steady and warm while the cold tries to creep in. his arms remain loose but ready, just in case anything stirs in the distance, his focus now split between his surroundings and you.

•he doesn’t say a word—he wouldn’t dare break the calm. but his thoughts are racing, wondering why you trusted him of all people to let your guard down like this. it’s foreign to him, but not unwelcome. ramirez adjusts the angle of his shoulder ever so slightly, ensuring your head isn’t at an awkward tilt, his movements precise and deliberate. his gloves are off, resting beside him, and though he’s tempted to place a hand on your shoulder to steady you, he keeps his discipline. for now, his proximity will have to do.

•every sound in the distance feels sharper, his eyes scanning the darkness with even more vigilance than usual. if anyone or anything comes close, they’ll have to go through him first. he feels the slight rise and fall of your breathing against him, a quiet reminder that, for once, someone sees him as more than just a soldier. he refuses to let go of that.

•when you stir slightly in your sleep, he glances down, watching your face for any signs of discomfort. he shifts ever so slightly to keep you comfortable, his voice barely audible when he mutters, “it’s alright... i’ve got you.” he knows you probably can’t hear him, but it feels like the right thing to say.

•by the time you wake, ramirez hasn’t moved an inch (bro is 🗿). he glances at you, his expression unreadable at first, but there’s a flicker of warmth in his eyes. he doesn’t make a big deal out of it—he wouldn’t know how—but there’s a soft, almost hesitant tone when he asks, “sleep okay?” it’s not much, but for someone who’s used to being alone, it’s everything.

john "soap" mactavish

•soap doesn’t just tolerate you falling asleep on him—he absolutely thrives on it. when you drift off, curled into his side, he doesn’t hesitate to make you as comfortable as possible. you’re on the couch in the safe house, wrapped up in a couple of old, mismatched blankets he found, with his arm securely around your shoulders. his other hand holds a steaming mug of coffee, and his fingers idly trace soothing patterns along your arm as you snooze. he looks completely at ease, even as the rest of the team bustles around.

• “look at this one, proper knocked out,” he’ll say to kyle, grinning wide as he leans back, shifting slightly to pull you closer. “must be my charm, eh? can’t resist relaxin’ when ol’ siap’s about.” he’s not shy (at all) about showing how much he loves having you close; in fact, he basks in it. he’s practically beaming, his voice warm with affection as he chats with the grin of a fox who'd just gotten into the henhouse.

•if anyone comments, he’s quick with a cheeky retort. “aye, they know who’s the comfiest bloke in the room. jealous, gaz?” he’ll quip, but there’s no hiding the pride in his tone. he doesn’t care what anyone thinks—if anything, he’s thrilled to show off how comfortable you feel around him. it's like bragging rights, but tenfold.

•if you stir or shift in your sleep, he’s immediately attentive, pulling the blanket tighter around you and leaning down to check on you. “shh, you’re alright,” he murmurs softly, his scottish brogue low and soothing. “go back tae sleep, love. i’ve got ye.”

•when you eventually wake up, soap greets you with the biggest smile, his blue eyes sparkling. “mornin’, sunshine. sleep well?” he teases, but his tone is so full of warmth that it’s impossible to be embarrassed. he’ll ruffle your hair gently and nudge the coffee mug toward you. “-'ere, take a sip. you’ve earned it.”

•soap loves these moments of quiet intimacy, where he gets to dote on you in his own affectionate, unapologetic way.

keegan p. russ

•keegan’s possessiveness is immediate the moment he feels your weight leaning against him. if you start dozing off next to him, he doesn’t just let you fall asleep on his shoulder—he pulls you fully into his arms, shifting you until you’re sitting in his lap, wrapped up in his hold. his arms are firm around you, one hand resting protectively on your waist while the other cradles your head against his chest. it's as if he’s daring the world to come and disturb this rare, intimate moment.

•he doesn’t care where you are—in the safe house, out in the field, or even in a damn helicopter. the second you relax against him, you’re his, and no one else is allowed near you. if anyone so much as glances your way, keegan’s icy stare is enough to send them backing off. “she’s fine,” he’ll mutter curtly, his tone making it clear that no one is to interfere.

•keegan’s movements are calculated to keep you comfortable, and he’s surprisingly gentle despite his rough exterior. he’ll adjust your position slightly, making sure you’re fully supported while still nestled securely in his embrace. his gloved hand will stroke lightly over your back or your hair, a quiet, soothing gesture that feels incredibly intimate coming from him. if you stir or mumble something in your sleep, his voice drops low, barely above a whisper, “shh, i’ve got you.”

•when you’re asleep in his arms, keegan lets his usual guard down, his intense eyes softening as he watches over you. this is one of the few times he allows himself to be vulnerable, holding you close like you’re the most precious thing in his world. and you are—to him, you’re more than his teammate; you’re his to protect, his to care for, his everything.

•if you wake up, his grip doesn’t loosen—if anything, it tightens slightly, as if he’s reluctant to let you go. “stay,” he’ll murmur, his voice low and gravelly, almost pleading. there’s a possessiveness in his tone, but it’s layered with so much love and devotion that it feels more protective than controlling. he won’t let you leave his lap until he’s absolutely sure you’re fully rested and okay.

•keegan might not say much, but his actions speak volumes. the way he holds you, shields you from the world, and refuses to let anyone else near you—all of it screams that you’re his, and he won’t let anything or anyone take you away from him.

kick

•kick is the kind of guy who would instantly notice when you're starting to drift off, and his protective instincts kick in before anything else. the moment you start leaning on him, he moves, pulling you closer until you’re fully in his arms, practically cradled against his chest. there’s a possessive edge to how he holds you—like a lion, keeping its cub safe. he doesn’t care if anyone notices; all that matters is you’re his, and you’re safe in his grasp. bro adores you more than his ego will ever let him say.

•his arms are firm and unyielding, ensuring you’re not going anywhere. if you make the mistake of shifting or trying to move, he’s quick to pull you right back, his hold becoming even tighter. there’s a low, almost inaudible grumble that escapes his throat if anyone dares to look your way, a quiet warning that you belong to him, and anyone else is unwelcome. he's not a man to hesitate instigating.

•if you- or when you start to fall deeper into sleep, kick is the type to softly hum or whisper comforting words in your ear, keeping the atmosphere calm and soothing. he might tell you, “rest, i've got you,” his voice quiet but heavy with affection, the type of words that let you know you’re more than just a teammate—you’re someone he’s fiercely protective of.

•when you wake up, he doesn’t let go right away. his grip is still tight, and his eyes soften as he looks down at you, taking in the rare vulnerability you’ve shown him. “you good?” he’ll ask, his voice rough but filled with genuine care. his arms loosen only enough to let you breathe, but if you try to move away, he’s quick to pull you back in.

könig

•könig freezes when you first fall asleep on him, unsure of what to do. the massive austrian, already awkward in social situations, is completely out of his element when you’re nestled up against him. but it doesn’t take long for his protective instincts to kick in. alowly, carefully, könig adjusts you so that you’re more comfortable, pulling you against his chest like a shield around you. his sheer size envelops you, and he lets out a deep, steadying breath as he realizes how much he likes having you this close.

•he’s hyper-aware of his surroundings, keeping an eye on everything with an almost predatory focus. no one else is allowed to come near while you’re in his arms—not a teammate, not even a passing glance from a civilian. if someone approaches, könig shifts slightly, his presence alone enough to send a clear message: stay back. he doesn’t even need to speak; his imposing figure and the protective way he cradles you say it all.

•he’s surprisingly gentle with you, his gloved hand resting lightly on your shoulder or softly brushing over your hair. every movement is deliberate, careful not to wake you. if you murmur or shift in your sleep, könig might quietly murmur something in german, his voice deep and soothing, though you can’t quite make out the words.

•if you wake up and try to move, könig gently tightens his hold on you, his voice low and filled with quiet urgency. “stay a little longer,” he’ll say, almost shyly, though his grip is firm. he’s not ready to let you go, not when you look so peaceful and vulnerable in his arms.

•you’re his anchor, and he doesn’t care if the rest of the world sees it. when you’re asleep on him, könig’s softer side shines through, though it’s buried beneath his usual stoicism and protective nature.

kyle "gaz" garrick

•gaz is caught off guard at first, but he adapts quickly, a soft grin spreading across his face as you drift off against him. whether it’s in the privacy of his quarters, or lounging in the common room, he instinctively shifts to make you more comfortable, leaning back slightly and draping an arm around you. he doesn’t mind being your pillow; in fact, he finds it endearing that you trust him enough to let your guard down like this.

•gaz is naturally calm and easygoing, so he doesn’t make a big deal out of it. he’ll glance around to make sure no one’s about to interrupt, but he doesn’t get territorial. if someone makes a comment, he’ll just flash them a cheeky grin and shrug, his eyes soft as they flick back to you. “what can i say? she’s got good taste,” he’ll joke lightly, but there’s a quiet protectiveness in his tone.

•as you sleep, he’ll absentmindedly rub small circles into your back or run a hand through your hair, his touch gentle and soothing. he doesn’t wake you, knowing how important rest is, especially during missions. if anyone needs him, they can wait; right now, his priority is making sure you’re okay.

•when you wake up, gaz greets you with an easy smile, his brown eyes warm. “good nap?” he teases, his voice light and playful. If you apologize for falling asleep on him, he just chuckles, shaking his head. “don’t worry about it, love. you looked like you needed it.”

logan walker

•logan’s love for you is quiet but deep, and when you fall asleep near him, he can’t help but draw you closer. the second you start dozing off, he gently shifts you into his arms, making sure you’re comfortable with a sense of natural care. he doesn’t let you go, pulling you against him in a way that feels protective yet soft. the moment you’re nestled against him, he starts brushing his fingers through your hair, the gesture almost instinctual, like a reassurance to both of you.

•as you rest against him, logan’s movements are gentle but deliberate, making sure you feel safe in his hold. his fingers glide through your hair, combing through it slowly as if savoring the moment. he could do this for hours without a word, but you’ll feel the way his touch speaks volumes—calming, soothing, and possessive in the most comforting way. he loves feeling you relax in his arms.

•if anyone dares to approach, logan’s sharp eyes are already on them. he doesn’t need to say a word; his silent warning is enough. he brushes your hair again, this time with a little more firmness in the motion, as if reaffirming that you belong to him in this moment.

•when you wake up, his first action is usually to smooth your hair back, a small, soft smile appearing on his face as his fingers trail over the strands. "rest easy?" he’ll ask, his voice low and warm, the hint of affection clear in his tone. he’s always so careful with you, never wanting to wake you too suddenly.

•if you start to pull away, he holds you closer. “hey, what's the rush?” he’ll murmur, his fingers continuing to stroke through your hair as if the simple act grounds him. the possessive side of him is subtle, but it’s there in how he refuses to let go. when you’re asleep in his arms, you’re his, and he’s not letting anyone take that from him.

mace

•mace is tough, no doubt, but he’s a sucker for moments like this. the second you fall asleep on him, his tough exterior melts, and he pulls you closer like he’s shielding you from the world. mace isn’t the type to be soft in front of others, but when it’s just you two, he becomes surprisingly affectionate.

•whether you’re in the middle of a mission or chilling in a safe house, mace holds you with a sort of possessive tenderness, like he can’t bear the thought of anyone else getting too close to you. his grip on you is tight, possessive, but he’s careful, not wanting to hurt you. if you start to stir, he’ll press you back into him, a low grunt escaping his lips as he secures you in place.

•when you wake up, you’ll find him staring down at you, that mix of love and possessiveness in his eyes. “you’ve got to stop falling asleep on me like this,” he’ll say, but there’s no real irritation—only affection, the kind of unspoken care he doesn’t know how to show.

•if you try to move, mace’s arm is already there, gently pulling you back. “i’m not done holding you yet,” he’ll grumble, as if the thought of letting you go for even a second doesn’t sit well with him.

•side note, he loves tracing his fingers over your hands. when you're awake, he'll guide your fingers up to trace against his alligator scars. he loves the lazy swipe of your fingers against him. it's a sort of satisfaction.

marcus burns

•marcus doesn’t waste any time when you start to doze off. the second you lean against him, he’s pulling you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you with the force of someone who’s not willing to share. he doesn’t say much, but there’s an undeniable possessiveness in the way he holds you, his grip firm and reassuring.

•when you’re asleep, he stays perfectly still, making sure you’re comfortable but also staying hyper-aware of everything around him. it’s like he’s simultaneously watching over you and protecting you from the rest of the world. if anyone dares to get too close, his glare alone is enough to send them away, and he’ll mutter something under his breath about how “you’re with him, and that’s that.”

• when wake up, he’ll be there, his arms still wrapped around you. “you good?” he’ll ask, the roughness of his voice softened just enough to let you know he cares. if you try to move closer, he’ll pull you in as close as possible, refusing to let you go easily.

•there’s a quiet, protective energy around marcus, and when you fall asleep on him, it’s his way of showing you that you belong to him in the most unspoken, but very real, way possible.

marcus "lerch" ortega

•marcus is a greedily possessive guy through and through, and when you fall asleep on him, he lets it be known. he’ll pull you into his lap or his arms and hold you close, his large frame making you feel completely shielded from the outside world. his hands rest possessively on your back, one hand occasionally brushing your hair or running across your shoulders in soothing strokes, but it’s clear he’s not letting anyone get too close to you.

•if you start to stir or try to shift away, marcus isn’t having it. he pulls you back to him, his grip tightening as he mutters, “stay put, sweetheart.” he doesn’t say it like an order, but the possessiveness is unmistakable in his tone. you’re his responsibility now, and he’s not letting go.

•when you wake up, you’ll find him watching over you, his face softening when your eyes open. “you’re alright. resting’s good for you,” he’ll murmur, his words laced with a quiet affection he doesn’t always show. he’ll let you sit up, but you’ll see the reluctance in his eyes as you try to leave his embrace.

•if you try to stand, he’ll grab your wrist, tugging you back with a gentle but firm motion. “no, stay right here with me.” his possessiveness might come off strong, but there’s an undeniable love behind it.

•kisses your forehead when you settle back in.

nikolai

•you don't exactly fall asleep against him.

•nikolai is a grouchy, no-nonsense kind of guy, but when you fall asleep in his hangar, he can’t bring himself to scold you for it. the first time he notices you slumped against some nearby crates, he sighs loudly, muttering to himself about how you’ve managed to fall asleep in his domain. still, he doesn’t wake you up. instead, he grumbles under his breath as he carefully scoops you up, holding you tightly against his chest as if you’re the most fragile thing he’s ever handled—even though he’d never admit that out loud.

•he finds a spot among the chaos of the hangar and sits down, pulling you into his lap without a second thought. his arms are firm and unyielding around you, holding you so tightly it’s as if he’s trying to shield you from the cold metal surroundings. as much as he grumbles about it, there’s a protective possessiveness to how he holds you, his chin occasionally brushing the top of your head. “what are you doing falling asleep here?” he mutters softly, though there’s no real bite to his words.

•while you sleep, nikolai refuses to move, sitting there like a solid fortress. he doesn’t bother pretending to be gentle—he’s all rough edges and gruff care, but the way he keeps his arms around you, ensuring you’re warm and safe, says everything. if anyone happens to wander into the hangar and see the two of you, nikolai is quick to bark at them to leave, his glare sharp and unrelenting. “out. now,” he growls, his grip tightening protectively around you.

•when you stir awake, his first instinct isn’t to let go but to hold you even closer, as if to make sure you’re still there. “finally awake, hm? took you long enough,” he says with a smirk, his voice teasing but layered with a gruff affection that he can’t quite hide. he brushes a few stray strands of hair from your face, his touch rough but careful, like he’s still figuring out how to handle you.

•if you try to get up, nikolai won’t let you go right away. his arms tighten around you as he grumbles, “stay put for a bit. you’re not going anywhere yet.” his voice is gruff, but there’s a quiet warmth behind it, the kind that makes you realize just how much he cares. even in his grouchy, no-frills way, nikolai’s possessiveness is clear—when you fall asleep in his hangar, you’re his, and he’s not letting you go

•makes you wait until he's finished working on his helicopter- giving you the small assignment of handing him small tools, just so later, he can easily pull you back into his arms.

nikto

•nikto’s first reaction when you fall asleep on him is a sharp exhale, the kind that conveys his usual grouchy frustration. he glances down at you, frowning slightly as your head rests on his shoulder. “you’ve got to be kidding me,” he mutters under his breath, eyes flicking back to the road ahead. he’s on a mission, not a leisurely drive—and here you are, completely oblivious to the world, using him as a pillow.

•he wants to be annoyed—really, he does—but there’s a part of him that softens in spite of himself. he shifts in his seat, trying to adjust without waking you. It’s not exactly comfortable for him, but he’s not heartless enough to shove you away. his hand flexes on the wheel, the other twitching slightly like he’s debating whether to push you off or pull you closer.

•“you’re lucky I’m not throwing you out of the fucking truck,” he grumbles, but his tone lacks any real malice. there’s a pause as he glances at you again, and with a resigned sigh, he carefully maneuvers one arm to rest across your lap, anchoring you to him in case the ride gets bumpy. it’s a subtle but protective gesture, even if he’d never admit it out loud.

•if the mission goes long and someone radios in, nikto is quick to shut them down. “i'm handling it. don’t bother me,” he snaps, his voice sharp and irritated. he keeps his answers short and clipped, making it clear he doesn’t want anyone interrupting this rare moment.

•when you stir, nikto tenses slightly, his grouchy exterior snapping back into place. “you awake now? good. about time,” he says, his voice gruff, though there’s a flicker of something softer in his eyes as he glances your way. he doesn’t say anything about the fact that you were leaning on him, but the way his hand briefly lingers on your arm before returning to the wheel speaks volumes.

•if you apologize or try to explain, he cuts you off. “don’t. just stay awake next time,” he grumbles, but there’s no real bite to his words. his hand brushes against your knee for a moment, grounding you both in the present. beneath all the gruffness and irritation, nikto’s protectiveness shines through in small, subtle ways that speak louder than any words he’d dare say.

phillip graves

•graves is the kind of man who can’t help but smirk when you fall asleep on him. he leans back in his chair or against the couch, letting you settle against his chest like you belong there—which, to him, you absolutely do. his arm snakes around you, holding you securely as he tips his hat back slightly, giving anyone nearby a look that screams, don’t even think about interrupting.

•as you sleep, graves doesn’t just sit still—he watches you, his sharp eyes softening as they trace the peaceful expression on your face. he’s got that southern charm in spades, and it comes out even in the way he gently brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch light and deliberate. “damn, sweetheart ’,” he mutters under his breath, a low chuckle escaping him. “could’ve at least warned me you were gonna knock me out like this.”

•when it’s time to wake you, graves doesn’t bother with something as boring as words. instead, he leans in close, his lips brushing against your forehead first—soft and slow, testing the waters. then, he moves to your temple, your cheek, and finally, your lips, his kisses warm and lingering enough to pull you from your dreams. “rise and shine, darlin'.” he drawls, his voice low and teasing, but there’s a genuine affection beneath it.

•he’s absolutely grinning when your eyes flutter open, looking at you like you’re the best thing he’s seen all day. “mornin’, sunshine,” he teases, his southern drawl thick and playful. “you were out like a light. couldn’t help myself— you’re just too damn cute when you’re sleepin’.” his fingers trail along your jawline as he speaks, his touch lazy but deliberate, like he’s got all the time in the world to focus on you.

•if you try to pull away, which, i would too girl, graves just tightens his hold, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “now, where do you think you’re goin’? you just woke up. stay here a little longer—can’t let you run off after leavin’ me like that.” there’s no real protest in his tone, just that teasing, possessive edge that makes it clear he’s not letting you go until he’s had his fill of holding you.

•he’ll keep teasing you the entire time, but it’s all underpinned by genuine love. and when you finally manage to pull away, you can still feel the ghost of his kisses lingering on your skin, a reminder that graves never does anything halfway—especially not when it comes to you.

rodolfo "rudy" parra

•the moment you start to drift off on him, rudy’s first instinct is to adjust himself so you’re more comfortable. he’s a gentle soul at heart, and his natural charm shines through even in moments like this. he carefully shifts you against his chest, his arms wrapping around you securely but not possessively. he cradles you like you’re the most precious thing in his world, his touch featherlight but steady.

•rudy isn’t the type to get overly territorial or possessive—he’s too tender for that, knows you can hold your own —but he does make sure that nothing disturbs you. if anyone comes near, he simply gives them a small, polite shake of his head and a reassuring smile, silently asking for peace for the both of you.

•as you sleep, rudy finds himself relaxing too, the soft rhythm of your breathing lulling him into a sense of calm. eventually, he settles back, letting himself rest alongside you. his head tilts slightly to rest against yours, and his hand absentmindedly strokes gentle circles on your back, the motion soothing for both of you.

•rudy hums quietly under his breath, the melody something familiar and comforting. it’s not loud enough to wake you but enough to fill the silence in a way that feels warm and intimate. it’s one of those rare moments where he lets himself enjoy the simple joy of just being with you, no mission, no chaos—just peace.

•when you wake up, rudy is still there, his eyes half-lidded with sleep but full of warmth as he looks at you. “you’re awake,” he says softly, his voice rich with affection. “i guess we both needed that, hm?” his smile is small but genuine, a glimpse of the quiet love he has for you

simon "ghost" riley

•when you fall asleep next to simon, it's a calm, quiet kind of intimacy that doesn’t need any grand gestures. he’s the type to let you rest without making a fuss, keeping his focus on his own tasks. he might be reading a book or going over some intel, but there's a subtle shift in his behavior the moment you fall asleep next to him. he adjusts slightly, making sure you’re comfortable but not doing it in an overly obvious way—he just wants you to be settled, and he’s more than willing to make small changes to ensure that.

•his hand, though, tells a different story. as you sleep, it’ll find its way to your thigh, fingers gently brushing along the fabric of your clothes in a way that’s more soothing than anything else. it’s not possessive, not in the way some others might be, but it's a protective kind of touch—a way for him to silently reassure himself that you're right there, safe in his presence.

•he won’t stop reading or working, but there’s a quiet attentiveness in his gaze whenever he looks up from the pages. his eyes will drift to you now and then, checking that you’re still okay, maybe adjusting the way he’s holding you, or if you shift, making sure you’re still comfortable. he’s not going to wake you up or disturb your rest, but he’ll keep an eye on you, ensuring that no one and nothing gets too close.

•when you wake up, you might notice how his gaze softens a little when you stir, but he’ll stay silent for a moment before offering a subtle smile. “you sleep okay?” he’ll ask in that low, gravelly voice of his, his eyes scanning you for any sign that you’re not alright. his hand won’t leave your thigh right away, not unless you shift or try to get up, and even then, there’s a reluctance to let you go. he’ll ease you out of his embrace gently, not wanting to disturb the peace, but his focus will always linger on you in a way that says you’re safe, you’re his priority, and nothing will disturb this calm while you’re here.

vladimir makarov

•makarov is a man who doesn’t do affection easily—he’s cold, calculating, and distant. however, when you fall asleep near him, especially with your head resting on his shoulder, it’s a rare moment where you see a different side of him. he doesn’t immediately pull away or brush you off; instead, he allows you to settle into the space he’s made for you, though he’s not about to offer more than that. there’s an unspoken message in the way he lets you rest—he’s not a man who is overly touchy, but he trusts you enough to let your head rest on his shoulder.

•his arms 100% stay at his sides, and he won’t pull you in closer, nor will he cuddle you—he’s simply allowing you this brief moment of peace. his posture remains rigid, not exactly relaxed, but it’s as though he’s guarding you in this silent way. the fact that he doesn’t push you away is a significant gesture on his part.

•if you stir or adjust, makarov will remain still, though his gaze might shift to make sure you’re still comfortable. there’s no rush to move you, but also no soft caress or comforting touch. he doesn’t do that. instead, his presence alone is solid and reassuring. you might feel the slight tension in his body, a constant reminder of who he is, but there’s also something oddly protective in the way he lets you stay close.

•when you wake up, his eyes will meet yours—sharp, calculating, but also with an understanding that, in this moment, you were able to let your guard down with him. he might not say much, but there’s a flicker of something in his gaze that tells you he’s content with this quiet moment. “rested?” he might ask, his tone neutral, but the way he says it suggests more than simple curiosity.

velikan

•velikan is a man whose size and strength are intimidating, but when you fall asleep on him, his rough exterior falls away just a bit. he’s not the type to let anyone close easily, but with you, he’s different. when you settle next to him, his massive arms wrap around you without hesitation, drawing you closer to him. his embrace is protective, solid, and there’s a comfort in it that you won’t find with anyone else.

•velikan’s hold is gentle, despite his intimidating presence. he doesn’t crowd you, but he doesn’t let go either. his body is warm, and his heartbeat steady, acting as an anchor for you as you rest. if anyone were to dare approach, his gaze alone would send them away, but he doesn’t need to say anything—his protective nature speaks volumes.

•if you wake up or shift, velikan’s grip will tighten slightly, almost as if to say, don’t go anywhere. he’s not about to let you leave so soon. when you stir, he’ll remain quiet, his eyes watching you with an unreadable expression. he’ll make sure you’re comfortable again before you fully wake up, adjusting you if necessary.

•when you do wake, belikan’s presence remains, unwavering. he’s still holding you, still close, and he doesn’t seem in any hurry to let you go. “sleep well?” he’ll ask in his deep voice, though there’s no rush for you to answer. he simply wants you to know that if you need more time to rest, he’ll give it to you without question.

vance

•vance is a surprisingly relaxed guy when it comes to moments like this. when you fall asleep near him, he doesn’t fight it or pull away—he simply adjusts, pulling you in a little closer, letting you rest without hesitation. he’ll shift his posture so you’re more comfortable, making sure you’re tucked against him in a way that feels natural. his arms, though strong, are surprisingly gentle as he pulls you into his side.

•there’s a tenderness to vance that you just don’t see often. when you stir or adjust, he’s quick to make sure you’re still settled, and if anyone dares to interrupt the moment, vance’s expression is enough to send them walking away. he doesn’t say much, but his quiet presence is more than enough to make you feel safe.

•if you wake up, vance won’t pull away right away; he’ll just let you stretch out, and he’ll give you a casual smile. “how you feeling?” he’ll ask with a warm chuckle, his voice light and reassuring. there’s no pressure to get up, and if you just want to rest a little longer, he won’t complain.

•kisses your cheek, brushing your hair out of your face.

#call of duty #modern warefare ii #call of duty fandom #call of duty x reader #call of duty fanfic #call of duty ghosts #cod modern warfare #cod #ghost cod #task force 141 #task force stalker #task force x reader #my wife #writers on tumblr #my writing #writing #modern warfare #cod fandom

60 notes · View notes