#alejandro vargas

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

53 / 2.7k / Alejandro being a man who knows his own sex appeal (with medic reader)

kinktober keywords: medical kink, healslutting, healing sex (so-called)

...

"Excuse me?"

Alejandro pauses at the door, looking back at you blankly for a moment before repeating himself. "You're with me," he says again, slower this time as if to make sure you've heard him. "We have things to discuss in the medbay."

Typical.

You follow him with your arms stiffly crossed.

He leads you to the medbay in relative silence, pushes open the door once you arrive, and gestures for you to walk inside first.

"Sit."

You don't. "What is there to discuss?"

His voice rasps with irritation. He tries to soften it when he speaks again. "Just sit. I'm not asking again." He nods at the table. "I'm suffering too much tension. You already know how I want to relieve it.”

You stare him down for another long moment. Then you yield--just a little--and push yourself up to sit on the edge of the examination table. "Not advisable with your injuries."

"I'm fine," he says. His gaze drifts to your legs, where your skirt has exposed several tantalizing inches of skin. "I prefer your brand of medicine."

nsfw ⬇

"I know you don't care about your injuries, Colonel, but I do."

"I know. It's your job to care. That's why I'm here. And who better to give me release than you?" He lets his fingers graze your knee and lifts them up along your inner thigh. "I need your help. You're going to be a dutiful doctora for me, aren't you?"

Your heart rises into your throat. That tone of voice. You swallow to ground yourself. How can you keep letting him do this to you? How are you still this weak? You shift, wanting to squeeze your thighs together. But Alejandro steps closer, standing between them.

He runs his hand up your leg, stopping just before his fingers brush the edge of your skirt. "You need to help your commanding officer, don't you?"

"You're hardly my commanding officer.

"Semantics," he purrs. His other palm goes to your inner knee, coaxing your legs to spread apart some more. "You're my medic, are you not?

Pulling rank on you? Does he really want to play that game? "I'm not your anything.”

"You think you're the one who's really in charge here?"

"It's not about who's in charge."

"Oh?" He almost finds your snark amusing. Almost.

"You're injured," you snap.

That makes him laugh. "That's what makes you the perfect one for the job," he tells you, letting his hands drift further up your legs. "You can't walk away from a poor soldier telling you he needs your help, can you? Even if he's being a bad patient. Not that you'd ever bring it up to your superiors. Or mine."

"No, I wouldn't. But I'm not going to help you risk popping your stitches just because you want to get your dick wet."

"Always so blunt, doctora. Always so crass. But I have faith you won't let that happen." His hands on your legs press you back on the table until you're leaning on your hands to support yourself.

He pulls the crux of your legs flush against him. The position forces you to either lean back and spread your legs to ease your weight off him or to let him pull your full weight onto his thigh and straddle it. You swallow, eyes darting down to the way your skirt is riding up. You swore you wouldn't do this again. You leave the base with your team tomorrow. You’ve already gone too far with him too many times. "Alejandro..."

"Mm," he rumbles in response to the way you say his name. He grinds his thigh up against you just to see you clench around his leg.

God damn him. There's nothing worse than a man who knows his own sex appeal.

You grab his collar, pull him forward, and close your lips around his pulse point.

He leans into your touch and braces his hand on the table next to your hip, enjoying the way your teeth graze against his skin. His hands find your hips and pull you flush against him. "That's it," he mutters. "This is what I need. Give it to me."

You push off the table and round on him to shove him against it instead. "Get on your back. You're not in any shape to top."

"So demanding." But he takes a seat on the edge of the table. "I suppose if my doctor says I'm not in any shape to top, I'll listen to her."

"For once."

"For you," he murmurs. He falls back on the table and props himself up on his elbows. He lets his legs part. His eyes drag over your body, wanting to see you naked again. "Show me how you take care of a wounded soldier."

But you don't bother stripping your clothes off--just skim your underwear down your legs and climb up onto the table to hover over him. Your eye falls to the stitches disappearing down the neckline of his shirt and running down his right pectoral. You instinctively check it for inflammation or discoloration, but it's clean. Just fresh and tender.

He watches you go through the motions of checking his stitches. He knows that you wouldn't be coming onto him if you didn't think he could do this. But it’s still irritating how focused you are on the state of his injury rather than letting yourself get carried away with his body in other ways. You leave tomorrow. There might not be a next time.

“You always so thorough, doctora?” he asks, a bit of an edge to his voice. “Or are you just stalling?”

"I'm exactly as thorough as I should be," you snap, grabbing the button and zipper of his pants and undoing them with quick, rough movements. "Regardless of what other rules you have me break."

His eyes darken as you take the initiative, but he can’t deny that he likes watching you get demanding. He lifts his hips to let you tug his pants partway down his thighs.

“You break the rules for me and I'll make sure no one can touch you for it.” His hand snakes up to your hip. “You want this? Go ahead. Take it.”

You let yourself sink down on him and hold in a breath as he fills you. You fight to keep your wits about you and you don't quite succeed.

He lets out a low, guttural moan. One hand grips the edge of the table as if he’s trying to hold onto control of himself, but then he gives up and lets his fingers dig into your hips, holding you in place. "That's it,” he hisses, letting his head fall back against the table. “So warm.” He rocks his hips upward, pulling you down at the same time as if he can somehow get you any closer than you are.

You flush as he pulls you forward and runs his tongue up the side of your neck. But when he starts to pump his hips against you in earnest, you push yourself up and force him to lay flat on the table again. "I told you to lay here. Don't move or you'll pop your stitches and we'll have to stop."

"Don't threaten me, doctora," he growls. But his hands fall away from your hips. He lays them flat on the table to show that he's not going to move them. "You both know you couldn't stop him if he wanted to take charge.

Still, he does like the way you're sitting on top of him. he'd just like to do something about the fact that you're still fully clothed. "Lose the shirt," he orders.

"No."

His jaw clenches. "Don't push me. You make me lie here at your mercy, and I'm not used to being controlled like that.”

He knows perfectly well that he can't command you to do a single thing. You, as his doctor, are the one calling the shots here. And despite the fact that being ordered around in his own base annoys him more than anything, you're still breaking the rules to ride his cock.

And you're slipping past the point of no return.

You pump up and down slowly, fighting to keep your breath even. You tell yourself this isn't for you, it's for him. As demanding as he is, as much of an ass he can be, this behavior is an expression of frustration. Of need.

But you make the mistake of looking down at him, and your hips stutter at the heat in his eyes.

He watches you with a need you rarely see in a man.

“Dios, doctora," he mutters. He wants you. Needs you. He runs his hands up your thighs, but he doesn’t try to take over. He lets you keep the control. For the time being, you’re the one calling all the shots. But that doesn't mean he'll be nice. "Faster," he mutters, gritting his teeth. “You can do better than that.”

He watches you as you begin to move faster, your breath coming in pants. He keeps his hands on your legs, but otherwise doesn't move. He lets you do the work--lets you take what you want from him. At least until your muscles begin to clench around him.

You bounce faster. You're still convinced you're keeping your head on straight when you jolt and gasp in a sudden fit of pleasure. An orgasm washes over you. You didn't expect it--didn't mean to do it.

A hoarse sound escapes his throat at the sudden tightening. “Fuck,” he gasps, his fingers digging into your thighs. “You feel so good." The way you jerk in pleasure forces a rough exhale from him. His grip on your hips gets tighter as he fights to keep his hands there, wanting to grab you and push you down in the heat of the moment but restraining himself. “I knew you’d be good to me. You give in just as good as you put out.”

You pant wordlessly. You still for a moment, shuddering in the pleasurable aftershocks. But then a clatter in the next room reminds you there's no time to waste. You get to moving your hips again, sluggish but dogged, to give the colonel the release he needs.

"That's it. Just keep going," he says. His voice is thick with desire, his body tensing as he approaches his own peak. "No te pares," he gasps. "Please, don't stop. Just keep going. I'm close." He's not used to begging, but he can admit to himself that he needs this, and he needs you.

You do as he says, slamming your hips down onto his over and over to jar him loose. The pace is brutal and that’s how he needs it. This is his medicine. He lets out a string of unintelligible Spanish at your pace, his hands squeezing your hips as the fire in his lower abdomen burns hot. He grits his teeth and locks his eyes on yours.

“Madre del Dios, you’re going to kill me,” he mutters. “You’re going to have me bleeding all over again.”

"Don't you dare," you growl. You keep a sharp eye on his stitches to watch for signs of strain.

Alejandro is too far gone to notice. “Or what, doctora?” he asks. He reaches up and hooks two fingers into the neckline of your shirt. The weight of his arm alone threatens to pop the button wide open. “Are you going to punish me?”

You grit your teeth and let him open up your uniform top to see your body as you bounce. You even help him along with undoing the buttons. To shut him up, you tell yourself.

He falls silent. His eyes fix on your chest, on every square inch of skin. "Oh, you are beautiful." He's rapt at the way your body moves. "Teasing me like that. Teasing a wounded man."

Wounded, your ass.

You keep it up, knowing he's close. But before you can stop him, he pulls you against him again, teeth at your chest, pulling a cry of protest out of you at the sharp pain. His hips buck hard. You struggle a little, but you let him pull you close, letting him nip and bite at your skin. He wants to mark you as his, even if you’re only his to own for the moment.

“Take it,” he growls, his voice rough.

"Alejandro-!"

He lets out a guttural, feral moan as his climax washes over him. 

He rocks your hips together slowly, riding the waves of his release. He doesn’t let go of you, even though it’s over. You shiver, unable to do anything but let him move your hips for you. He just needs this a bit longer.

Finally, he releases you and lets his head fall back against the table. His eyes flutter closed. His teeth leave indents in your skin. Nothing major, but there will be marks all over you that will be there for a while. Proof of what you've done here with him.

“You wear me out.”

"Good. You need more rest," you mutter, easing off him.

He lets out a huff of almost-laughter. He lets you sit back on the table next to him and swipes a sweat-damp lock of hair out of his face.

“I have to admit… you’ve got an interesting bedside manner,“ he says.

"And you are the worst patient I've had the displeasure of encountering on this base. That's a high fucking bar, too."

“I never liked to stay still for the doctor.” He props himself up on the table on his elbows and looks over at you. “You’ll have worse patients in the States, surely.”

You stand up gingerly, testing your shaky legs before you walk. "You need to watch yourself. No drills. No resistance training. Only physical therapy. You got that? If you tear your stitches again, there will be hell to pay."

“I can handle it,” he insists, a note of irritation creeping into his voice now that you’ve turned the topic to his injury again. “I won’t tear any stitches, I’ve done this before. I’m plenty tough. I can handle a drill or two.”

You round on him and jab your finger into his chest. "No. No drills or else. I'll ban you from training altogether if I have to."

"You’ll ban me?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “Try it. I'd like to see you try to keep me in bed with your panties on."

"It won't be me. It'll be Rodolpho. He's just as worried about you."

That gets him. He knows damn well that every other Vaquero wants him to heal up. "Fine. No drills. But only because I don't want to spend the next few weeks with those pendejos lecturing me. They're a bigger pain in the ass than you are."

You scoff and turn away. "You were singing a very different song a minute ago."

"And then you start going all doctor on me.”

"Yeah, well. You've clearly demonstrated you're capable of taking orders when it suits you. You're just choosing not to."

The corner of his lips curve in a smug little smirk. “I take orders I'm willing to follow,” he says. “I don’t do well with people telling me what to do. You just have a way of making me forget that.”

Of course. He'll let you get away with ordering him around when he feels like it. And when he's not in the mood, it's a hell of a time getting him to listen to you. Typical.

"Do whatever you want, then," you tell him, buttoning up your uniform. "But don't come crying to the next medic when you bust a stitch. If you're so self-reliant, if you know everything, then you fix yourself."

"Oh, I will, doctora." He lets out a little huff as you leave the room, rolling his eyes. Of course you’d get pissed at him, just like that. He doesn’t bother to call you back and apologize. He’s not the sorry type. Not even if this is the last time he sees you go and it's you going off in a huff.

As a matter of principle, he won't give you the satisfaction of crawling back.

But you’ll still come around. You always do.

...

more Alejandro / masterlist

[drenix004]

𝐃𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐘━━━ 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐄 141

❝𝐃𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐲︙She was an odd one, as was her obsession with daisies. But, that made her unique in the eyes of the herd… she became the treasure of TF 141.

warnings: mention of alcohol, drugs, death, obsession, among others, if you are not comfortable, don't read it !

rating: 18+

pairings: Task Force 141, Köning y Horangi x Oc female.

Summary: the hunt for jewels had begun, so Laswell decides to pass her off as a human and send her to the British military base under the command of a colleague, all this without him knowing her true identity to protect her (sorry, I don't know how to summarize).

¡English is not my first language, so there may be mistakes, don’t hesitate to correct me.!

wattapad -> here

INTRO | CH 1 | CH2 | CH3 | CH4

●❯────────────────❮●

A tense silence filled the air as they watched the CIA operative, a colleague of their captain for years, through the screen. The woman had initiated a video call to discuss the new team member, which had made them nervous ever since they found out she was human and not a hybrid or monster.

For Ghost, this posed a problem that would affect the team in upcoming missions. Moreover, she was an outsider, and years of betrayal had made him deeply distrustful and more cautious than ever. Whenever they allied with others, he requested their files and scrutinized them thoroughly before gaining more information.

The matter of coexistence between hybrids, monsters, and humans remained complicated. Despite their high ranks in the military, they still faced looks of disdain, disgust, hatred, and cruel words for not being entirely human. Even though humans were cruel and ruthless, they treated them as the only beasts in their hypocrisy.

Kate sighed for the tenth time in what had been just an hour-long meeting.

"I understand you may have doubts and even rejection toward this new addition," Kate said, staring directly at Ghost through the camera, "but she is necessary this time. She'll be a great addition to the team."

"She’s human," the tallest one interjected, his voice slightly muffled by the balaclava. "She’ll only bring trouble."

"She won’t cause you any problems; you have my word." Laswell locked eyes with Price, the man who had remained silent. He had already discussed things with the woman privately and was now letting his pack weigh in. "She’s not just any human. She’ll help you, and she might even teach you a few things."

"Like what?" asked the Scot.

That was the cue for Price to step in, setting an open folder on the table. The five men moved closer to take a look. Ghost was the first to reach it, despite being farther from the table.

"She’s given permission for us to see the first two pages of her file." Price’s voice was calm, as always. "She’ll be supporting us in the medical field." He handed one page to Ghost while the other went to the only dark-skinned member of the group. "She’s a combat medic, specializing in emergency medical-surgical care."

"Aeris Williams, no photo," Soap mentioned, standing next to Ghost. The others crowded around to see the first page.

"It’s for her safety," Laswell replied, "and she’s worked for several private military contractors." Through the camera, they could see the woman drumming her fingers on the table. Price noticed she was nervous.

"She’s worked with the competition, Laswell," Gaz pointed out upon seeing KorTac’s name. "What assurance do we have that she won’t leak information about us?"

"She’s a professional, and as her file shows, she’s worked with more than just that contractor. If she’d leaked information, she would’ve been blacklisted and imprisoned for breaching contractual terms by now," the woman defended her. "She’s highly qualified to join the team."

"It also says she worked with the ghosts. That’s impossible." Ghost tossed the page back onto the table. Price pulled out a cigar from his pocket, lighting it with fire that flared from deep in his throat. The attitude he was most concerned about was Simon’s.

"It’s true," the captain answered on behalf of Laswell, "and not just as a medic, but also as a soldier. She’s participated in counter-terrorist operations, rescue missions, infiltration, and reconnaissance; she’s highly experienced on the battlefield."

"She’s a veteran," Laswell added. "And as hard as it may be to believe, she’s even more experienced than Price." The men looked at their captain, who nodded as he took another drag from his cigar. "You could learn a thing or two from her, if you’re willing. And... there’s something about her that you might like." Price smiled, knowing what was coming.

"What’s that?" Gaz placed the other page back on the table, his black wings stretching slightly behind his back.

"She worked with the Shadows under Graves’ command." The room, except for Price and Kate, erupted in growls at the mention of the man they considered scum.

"She worked with that bastard? How could that please us?" Alejandro’s thick Mexican accent came through as he scowled at the mention of the man. Of them all, and especially the two Mexicans, Alejandro harbored the most resentment toward Phillip Graves. After all, the man had taken his base and his men during their time in Las Almas several years ago.

"That’s not the best part." Price approached the table with the cigar in his mouth, slipping the pages back into the folder. "There’s a very good reason why there’s no information in her file about working with the Shadows."

Soap raised an eyebrow, as did Alejandro. The men watched as a smile formed on their captain’s face and on the woman’s face through the screen.

"The reason is, she almost beat Graves to death with her bare fists." Surprise quickly spread across the faces of the group. Alejandro was the first to laugh, wearing his typical smile as his shoulders shook slightly from the laughter.

He was followed by Rodolfo, who chuckled lightly.

Gaz had his head tilted slightly, a small smile on his lips. Soap mirrored the expression, while Ghost remained silent.

"What was her excuse?" Rodolfo asked with curiosity after he stopped laughing.

Kate shrugged slightly before replying.

"She simply said he was an idiot."

"That’s a solid argument," Gaz commented.

"I’m already starting to like her," Soap said, flicking his tail.

"So, the lady almost killed him," Alejandro murmured beside Rodolfo. "Guess we should give her a chance, then."

Ghost looked at his pack before sighing.

"I’ll keep an eye on her."

"I appreciate your willingness," Kate clasped her hands on the desk. "Now, I’ll give you some recommendations to keep in mind for your safety."

●❯────────────────❮●

"We'll arrive in five minutes, Doc," the pilot announced over the communicators. "It was a pleasure flying with you."

She smiled as she took off her tactical helmet, just like Kamli and her other companion.

"Likewise, Jack. But this is more of a see you later than a goodbye," she replied before cutting off communication again. "Do you think the captain will be offended for not arriving yesterday?" She looked at the tallest of the three.

Kamli took off his helmet like she did, letting out a sigh.

"I don't think so. He knows beforehand that sometimes things happen unexpectedly. Besides, Laswell informed him we would be delayed." His piercing eyes landed on her. "Don't worry about the minor details. There are other things to be concerned about."

"Kamli is right," interjected the other accompanying them, a hybrid of Arctic hare; he was her assistant. "You should save your energy for the problems that exist at that base on a medical level; the anomalies in those records are troubling, boss."

She sighed as she saw the enormous base, spotting several people waiting in the landing area.

"Alright, let's do this."

The helicopter began its descent while the three prepared themselves. Kamli adjusted his gloves, she pulled her black Buff up to her nose, and her assistant grabbed the straps of one of the four military deployment bags they had brought, excluding the huge 25-kilogram first aid kit.

They felt evaluative gazes on them, especially on her and Kamli due to their height. They unbuckled their seatbelts and descended slightly hunched over as a precaution while the blades continued spinning powerfully.

She moved to the front and signaled to Jack to take off again.

Then she turned and made eye contact with the man in the hat and beard, who smiled politely at her. Kate had mentioned his appearance before they left.

"You must be Captain Price, right?" She approached the man and shook his hand. The scaly tail swayed slowly, but she held back her questions. "Aeris Williams," she introduced herself, "but I prefer to be called Harper."

Kamli and her assistant also approached, positioning themselves to her left and right.

Price nodded.

"Captain John Price." The man looked at her before addressing the two companions behind her. "Laswell mentioned that only two of you were coming."

From his tone, Aeris understood she needed to clarify things. Price was still an alpha, and as such, he liked to know who was coming in and out of his base. The arrival of another male without prior notice could be seen as an invasion of his territory.

Kamli was also an alpha, which could trigger an internal struggle to prove who had power over whom if they didn't communicate properly.

"I apologize for the last-minute surprise, Captain. We come from a small mission," she responded calmly. "The big guy next to me is Kamli Sharma, my partner in operations and missions." Kamli nodded at those present, looking at them neutrally with no signs of confrontation. "And he is Jim Parker, my right hand."

Parker also nodded; the man had noticed the gazes on his non-human limbs and ears but ignored them, as they merely indicated curiosity.

"No problem," Price stepped aside, revealing four members of his pack. "This is Gaz." The dark-skinned man stepped forward and shook her hand while slightly stretching his black wings; from the type and color of his wings, she deduced he was a hybrid of raven or harpy.

"Soap," the lighter-eyed one introduced himself with a smile; his accent revealed he was Scottish. His enthusiastic eyes and tail wagging behind him made it clear he was a wolf. "Two of us are missing who couldn't come; they'll show up later." He nodded towards the man in the skull-patterned balaclava. "And he is Ghost."

The one in the mask didn’t respond; his gaze was fixed on Kamli. The height difference between the two was evident, with Kamli being the taller at two meters.

Unlike the others, Ghost showed no indication of what kind of hybrid or monster he was.

"Kamli." His warning tone was enough to make the man stop staring him straight in the eyes.

The others had noticed the small confrontation between the two hybrids, so Price intervened.

"I'll give you a brief tour if you're not too tired." Aeris smiled through her buff.

"We're fine, Captain." She grabbed the first aid kit and slung it on her back before taking one of the bags, while Kamli grabbed the two remaining ones. "We can hold out a bit longer."

"Alright." Price turned halfway and began the tour, allowing Aeris to stay at his side and not behind him. That was a good sign; it meant he recognized her as an equal. "This base is larger than the others since we have more resources; I can give you a map while you get accustomed."

The base was undoubtedly big, just as Price had said, and the map would be useful for orientation in the first few days. Given her role as a combat medic, Aeris had certain privileges, such as the right to a room with its own bathroom, away from the dormitories for greater privacy, which she appreciated. She was also assigned an office at Kate's request for the tedious paperwork related to the anomalies in the medical processes of the base.

It was impressive that, despite being completely adapted for hybrids and monsters, there were more humans.

As they walked through the hallways and different recreation rooms, Aeris noticed small packs formed, all being cautious as they passed. She even observed some injured individuals with poorly placed bandages, suggesting that medical care for the non-humans was, at best, lacking in certain aspects.

She had a lot of work to do, but at least she wouldn't be bored.

However, she was sure she would face resistance from the medical staff if more of her suspicions turned out to be true, much to her dismay.

They returned to their room under the curious gaze of those present at seeing the three staying in the same space. Their excuse was that they had things to discuss, so the pack said no more, just nodded, and left them alone.

"They noticed your behavior, didn't they?"

"They must have a very poor relationship with the medical area; their bandages are poorly placed, and even one is not suitable for the type of injury," Jim remarked. "I think they did it themselves; someone trained wouldn't make such simple mistakes."

"It's clear they aren't being treated according to protocol," Kamli growled, "and yet, the miserable ones dare to ask for raises."

"Laswell suspects they are also smuggling medications, and I think so too," Aeris sighed as she took off her tactical vest. "For now, it would be better to rest, especially you; tomorrow you must return to the field." She lightly tapped the bed for them to climb up. That night, the three would sleep in the same bed; it was a custom they had adopted upon arriving in new places, as the protective instincts of the two hybrids were at their highest during the first two days.

●❯────────────────❮●

Let's start this adventure!

I'm sorry if there are spelling mistakes, I'm not good at English, but I do my best.

if you want to be on the tag list please let me know in comments :D

likes and reblogs are very appreciated by this author !

[gothghostiie]

cw: fluff/comfort, collars, gn!reader, ambiguous partner, could be any of the cod men

thinking about casually wearing a collar around any of the cod men?? like, idk about you but sometimes i wear a collar on my own, just because there's a sense of comfort that comes with it.

he comes in and starts talking, only noticing the collar a few minutes into the conversation, but now that he's seen it he can't look away from it. he knows you're single, not seeing anyone, so he knows there's no way someone else like officially collared you, and with how casual youre being its not just a kink thing that he caught you with. he doesn't say anything this time, but it doesn't leave his mind, its like the thought, the image of you with that collar around your neck is burned into his head, refusing to leave.

and from then on he seems to see you more often with it too, youve gotten comfy with wearing it around him, since he doesn't seem to judge or be bothered by it. yes he stares but you don't mind it at all - neither does he. he likes seeing you with your collar. you always look calm with it, relaxed and content. never stressed, never upset, never anything but just.. comfortable. and it grows on him, fast.

it grows on him to the point where he feels weird seeing you without your collar. you look bare, naked, vulnerable without it, to him. but he doesn't say it, it's your choice after all. its not his place to tell you when to wear it - if it was you'd always be wearing it.

not until he sees you running around, looking all worked up and stressed, the discomfort etched into your face, your bare neck making his stomach twist. he cant stand the sight of you like this, he wants you to be relaxed, to feel okay - its not his place to tell you what to do, he keeps thinking, but his heart twists hard enough to make him speak faster than he can convice himself not to.

"go get your collar. I'll take care of this."

[threehuskiesinatrenchcoat]

[shititsarat]

alejandro: *exists*

my brain: "alejandro, alejandro... ale-alejandro, ale-alejandro..."

me: "STOP-"

[awkward-fink]

Waiting for them to come Home (Part 2)

(Because I forgot to add some of the men we all love, didnt I?) Just imagine you are back on the couch, waiting for days now, your body laid out on the cushions, a soft blanket draped over you to protect you from the chill of the night. And you wait for the door to open, for your lover, your husband, your better half to finally come home again.

Alejandro doesnt try to be silent, even though it is the middle of the night, his gear thumping to the floor and his footsteps surely carrying him towards the kitchen first, opening the still warm pot to swipe a finger through the food, tasting it greedily. But soon he walks towards the living room, finding you and a brilliant smile lights up his face. He is quick to scoop you up and over his shoulder, hands splayed on your ass as he carries your spluttering and quickly awakened form up the stairs, promising to make up for lost time. His hand never leaves your ass all the way up, feeling and groping as he goes, body already burning. 'Mi armor, wake up, i brought some presents for you and the biggest of them is me!'

Rodolfo, that sweet big man, is quiet as he comes into your shared home. He knows you are surely waiting for him, you had always done it when he was late from his assignments. And lo and behold, there you are, curled around his pillow on the couch. A soft smile on his lips, he kneels beside you, caressing your cheeks and whispering softly to you. His big hands easily lift you into his arms, his cheek against yours, further whispering sweet nothings into your ear, soft kisses trailing along your nose until you scrunch it just the way he loves, waking you softly before he takes you to bed with you. 'Told you so often you dont need to wait up, Love. Warms my heart though, so good to me. Don't worry, im not gonna let you outta bed until I had my fill of your kisses.'

Horangi is a strange mixture of reactions. On one side, he always told you to not wait up, to sleep in the bed and be comfortable, he wouldnt mind. On the other hand, seeing you sleeping on the couch, clearly waiting for him to come back, has his heart just slightly racing, as if he had the dice in his hand and was only one throw away from the biggest Jackpot of his life. He hesitates for a second, just taking in your pose, his smile turning into an amused smirk as he sees you drooling in your sleep. Will take a picture to blackmail you with in the morning before unceremoniously putting you over his shoulder and climbing up the stairs, laughing at your sleepy mumbles and your hands steadying yourself on his hips and ass. 'Don't worry Byeolbit (my starlight, if Goggle is correct...), you can touch that some more in just a few minutes. After we both took a shower, one of us reeks and I am not sure its me.' Will pull you with himself under the shower, doesn't care about your PJ's or your sleepdrunk state.

König doesnt know what to do. He is big and burly and strong and he is scared to touch you, you look like a small doll so cosily curled up on the cushions and he really doesnt want to wake you but if you sleep like *this* its gonna be hell on your back and neck and he doesnt want it. That big man is fluttering helplessly around you, hands reaching out before pulling back without touching you, nearly whining underneath his breaths in indecision before he finally, after minutes, settles on poking your cheek gently. 'Liebling (Love, Honey), you awake? You are gonna hurt in the morning... Let me... Let me just...' His words taper off as you blink drowsily at him, so comfy but also so very happy he is home that you cling to him like a koala. His big arms wrap around you, his face flushing so bright he wonders if you can see it shining red in the darkness of your shared home. He is so very careful with every step he climbs up the stairs, one arm around your back, the other underneath your ass as he carries you without problem.

[k6tzie]

COD P☆RN LINKS

ghost: your clingy boyfriend just wants to be closer to you, he wants to be inside you. literallysuch a sweet boy with mommy issues, just wanting to be taken care of :( doesn't wanna commit yet and go the full way... stop being so clingy! he was trying to do some paperwork :/ so incredibly jealous ghost coded surprising you when he comes back home but you have a meal for him prepared :) soap: don't even need to take your panties off fully, just push them aside!< pretty red tights are getting ripped off tonight 😊 whilst soap fucks u hard and merciless, ghosts fat cock is throbbing in ur mouth :( he can't stay away from ur pretty lips gaz: he likes recording your puffy pussy when you cum like your own paparazzi! don't worry, he'll lick it up afterwards his pretty cowgirl riding that dick like she owns it 😵 late night after the whole teams' at the bar, you 2 sneak back to his car... staying in a tent for a mission...this close...is never a good idea price: price stuffing his thick dick in you after you 'joked' about breaking up :(he's gonna be deployed for awhile, why not make the most of it? he DID promise good aftercare, don't blame him halloween mission gone wrong! :( your weight is no match for him alejandro: average alejandro camera roll smh he loves seeing u wet all over, and a mark on how much he's done titty man :) sleepover at ale's barrack after dinner rudy: he missed feeling you, so soft and plushy - better than a pillow <3he was too shy to say anything so thank god you removed it typa shit rudy's on pussy so soft and healthy eating that puffy pussy like it's the last supper

[nova-lunosi]

[bluegiragi]

brief.

early access + nsfw on patreon monster!AU masterpost

[rusticfurnace]

face studies with the vaqueros i did some time ago!🤠🤠

...and some white guy ig.

[yooo-lets-go]

Roach in Las Almas what will he do

[kruegerslov3r]

someone in the chat asked the guys to flex, and samuel did it with his cat

everyone: 🤣

cat: 💪😳

[lanialania00]

Ghost thought he could drink at the same level as two mexicans and a scotsman.

[smutstationchoochoo]

Desperate

COD Men x FemReader

Hear me out: a sex pollen fic where reader isn’t affected but he is and he is gone.

Word count: ~3.6k

A/N: It’s just the poorly written sex pollen drabble of my dreams, it’s fuck or die lads. Insert your favorite COD man here. Please forgive me for any spelling/grammar mistakes and my complete lack of knowledge regarding military things, all I know is that these men are hot and I love them.

Warnings: sex pollen, unprotected PIV (wrap it up), overstimulation, dubious consent (consent is sexy folks)

Banner credit: @cafekitsune

You all had been briefed at 0200. The flight to Berlin left at 0300 where the team would be infiltrating a terrorist hideout, a suspected manufacturing site for a new chemical agent. You were told that as long as you didn’t ingest it, you would be fine.

The fact that it had been made airborne was not in the fucking briefing.

The team had been split into pairs, you and he took the North side of the suspected warehouse. The size of it should have tipped you all off. Everything was running smoothly until 3 combatants had come from the door at the end of the corridor. He called for cover and ran ahead. You dropped two before he even got a stride in. The other he disarmed in seconds and then with a deafening crack, both men slammed through a door and into the resulting room. A brief struggle then silence. You heard him start to call the ok, his voice in the comm sounding clearer than earlier, then a noise, a pop, and the sound of air. You froze, watching a gas spill from the open door and dissipate immediately. Just when you started moving again, a growling, “Don’t,” tore through the comm. Then, the sound of ripping Velcro and something hard (his helmet you realized with a sickening drop) hitting the concrete floor echoed out to you. Soft murmurs that grew into angry outbursts of fuck fuck fuck transformed into one that became a groan of what sounded like complete and utter pain. You didn’t even have to think, the severity of the situation settled in. “It’s a gas,” you barked into the comms, “Northside hit, need medevac in 30, going dark.” You waited for confirmation, seconds after getting it and receiving news that the warehouse was almost cleared, you went to find him.

You knew what it did, you all did. Jokes had been made, smirks shared, but you all knew how bad it was. You weren’t even close to prepared. He was sitting against the far wall or rather pressed into it using it to keep his now shaking frame upright, gear strewn around the room, combatant on your immediate left with a mask (his mask, the masks you all were wearing just in fucking case) gripped in a dead hand, an empty canister mockingly sitting in the middle of the room. 

You gripped the combatant by his legs and dragged him to the hall, before slamming the door shut upon reentry and grabbing a near chair to jam the door. You immediately began stripping yourself of your outer tactical gear until you both matched in only your boots, pants, and base shirts and then you turned your attention to him. Now kneeling by his side you took him in, looking for any other injuries noting nothing serious. That almost made you laugh with relief until you saw the front of his pants and him frantically palming the growing outline. You swallowed and quickly looked at his face shocked back to the reality of the current situation. The usually stoic, always larger than life, incredibly strong man in front of you was reduced to tears dripping from his now blown and hazy eyes, falling down flushed cheeks and landing on the front of his shirt that clung to his hyperventilating chest. You knew he had been shot, stabbed often, and left for dead a time or two, but this…

Shiny and new neurotoxin, you remembered the brief, attacks the nervous system, causing the mark to feel intense arousal and as if they have been lit on fire, specially formulated not only to cause pain but a complete and utter breakdown of will as victims often experience hallucinations and loss of self. If left in the system, it raises the core temperature until convulsions set in, and then heart attack occurs. Do not touch it.

No one had to ask how it was worked out of the system. Then again, they all believed they were too smart to touch the shit. Couldn’t do much about breathing it in when your mask was ripped from your face though.

  Your hand pressed to his slick forehead now radiating heat, and feeling as if it could burn you like an open flame. At the touch of your blessedly cool hand, he hissed a low fuck through his gritted teeth, keening into your touch. You swallowed, hand tilting his cheek to look up at you when you asked, “Can I help?”  His hair was sticking up at all angles from the helmet being hastily pulled from his head, and he looked up at you and gave one weak nod, “Please.”

Upon looking at the desperation pooling in those dark eyes (those eyes you often were caught staring at) any small reservations evaporated from your body under his burning gaze. You swiftly reached out, mercifully helping him escape from the now too-tight pants, the bite of his zipper. The moment your skin brushed against the head of him he was bucking up against it. You had to reach the other hand out to steady yourself against his shoulder, another touch that jutted his hips and had him twitching into your grip.

“Is- is this helping?” you croaked out, struggling to swallow, struggling to contain the wave of arousal that was threatening to course through you. He nodded, chin slack against his chest as he watched your hand work against him, moving up and down against the veins seemingly trying to break through his skin. No thoughts went through his mind other than the knowledge that you were jerking him off and that it felt so good that he could cry in relief. But then something shuddered within him, something loud and fast like a wildfire, burning just as much, and hot thick ropes of cum spilled over your hand. He couldn’t even cry out, it happened so fast. His breath was coming out in loud pants, when a new thought, the thought that he had just come in maybe thirty seconds flashed through his mind but it was quickly replaced with the horrible realization that the feeling of being on fire wasn’t going away. It was getting worse, out of control, containment measures failed. At this, he let out a sob as his hips moved of their own volition into your still soothing grip. It wasn’t enough, he knew, you knew, it wasn’t enough.

 You stood, and he whimpered at the loss of your touch but all sound stopped in his throat when he watched you decisively unzip your pants and pull them down to your ankles underwear included, kicking off a boot, and one pant leg. When you straddled his lap he desperately pulled you down onto him, your exposed core grinding down where he wanted you, where he fucking needed you, that’s when he began to talk. Begging you to help him, saying that he’s sorry over and over, that he needs your help, incoherent babbling from a breaking mind, please it hurts so bad, I-I don’t, I can’t- fuck, I need you... All cool, calm, collectedness burnt to fucking ash. Just a man reduced to pure longing and want. A longing and want that might be what was threatening to kill him, not the toxin, just the build up over the days, weeks, months he had been around you threatening to crush him. He almost wants to die, this was never how it was supposed to be. He wanted it to be good for you, you deserve that, you deserve better, he could have given you better-

But now what was he? A heaving chest under a sweat soaked shirt beneath eyes that watch you like some feral animal. Hands wanting to claw at the clothing now so heavy, hot, and itchy against his burning skin, but instead were gripping onto your hips like it’s going to save him from burning to a crisp. The broken moans tearing their way from his throat when you line up his painfully hard cock to your entrance makes you throb, and then his choking cry as you slide down on him punches the air from your chest.

“Does this feel ok?” you panted out after a moment, struggling, trying not to drown in the pleasure of him stretching you, filling you. He couldn’t form the words, couldn’t even nod. His forehead falling to your shoulder in utter relief, mouth dropped open as he repeats your name over and over like an apology, a thanks, a goddamned prayer. How all he can do is sit there on the floor of some warehouse, back against a wall, the only thing resembling his usual strength is that ironclad hold he has on your hips as he helps you drag yourself up, then, accompanied by the tortuously obscene sounds of your wetness, back down. Brokenly pleading with you not to stop, don’t stop, fuck p-please don’t stop. You feel like molten heaven against his cock, your moans like angels (or devils, he’s too far gone to care at this point) singing through the blood rushing in his ears. One of your hands again steadies yourself on his shoulder, the other steadying him, an anchor point, with your achingly gentle hold on the nape of his damp neck (so gentle that it breaks his fucking heart, he wanted to give you more, you deserved more) as you ride him. Your hips rock once more, twice more, before his body seizes up with electricity that ricochets up his spinal cord and reverberates through his skull. His fingers dig into the soft skin of your hips, teeth grinding and eyes slamming shut, as he releases inside of you with a shattered cry. The sound of you gasping, now clutching, raking your fingers into him, has his hips continuing their rutting up into you, pushing his cum as deep as he can within your walls.

He stills for 10 seconds at most, panting breaths thunderous between you two, before pulling you into his chest, his hips slamming up into you, hard and hot as if he didn’t just fuck you until he could see every neuron firing behind his eyes. His hot open mouth finds your shocked one in a perfectly surprised “o,” more apologies pushing from his lungs and into yours between loud wet kisses as he listens (is blessed with thank you God) to you beginning to come apart. You couldn’t help it, as you ground down into his thrusts, even though you knew the threatening climax was going to be terrifying. Your breathing was ragged now as well, the air becoming harder and harder to drag into your lungs in between you cursing and moaning, and then- fucking hell- you’re at the precipice. Before you can even utter a syllable you are being flung over the edge. The pleasure rips through you, waves breaking against the rocky shore, with such intensity that it hurts, causing you to dig your nails into his skin, and bright spots to dance behind your closed eyes while the distant feeling of wetness registers from between you two. He explodes again with a gasp, feels you clench around him like a vice, his name, his real name, forcing its way from inside you and into his mouth with every pulse and it tastes so so good that he can’t stop, he never wants to stop, just filling you up until it drips from you, filling you with him because you’re his, his. Even when you both whimper and shudder with overstimulation, his arms shaking in their grip around you, he can only press his forehead to yours, rolling it desperately, as he begs for your forgiveness. I can’t stop, it won’t stop, I’ll make it good, please next time I’ll make it good.

“It is good,” you whisper to him with hitched breath from each thrust, trying to reassure him, “It’s ok, it’s ok.” You don’t know if he can hear you, his eyes are wild and don’t seem to even register that you are actually on top of him, that he’s inside of you, that he has made you yell out his name over and over and over. You don’t think he even knows what he is saying. Next time.

 His own voice comes to him from somewhere far away, through the flames licking at his mind, please- fuckin’ hell please, just a little more- I just need one more, I need you, please don’t stop, I don’t want to stop nearly unrecognizable as he comes inside you again and again and again.

It isn’t until the medevac came and he was sedated that what just happened began to sink in. For a week, a fucking week, he’s in critical condition. No one talks about it, at least not in the way you all did before this. You saved him, you’re told. You don’t want to think about it, if you think about it then you think about how good it felt, how fucked it is that it felt good, and how everything is gone. If you think about all he said, you’d overthink, give meaning where there was none. He probably won’t be able to look at you anymore. You went to see him that first day. You sat next to him for mere minutes before bolting, the fear of him waking up and looking at you with disgust, telling you to get out in that icy voice you knew so well, sent you running straight to the mats to train until you wanted to scream. That’s all you did now, and that was where you decided you would stay until you died. That is until someone came and found you, told you he was awake, and that he had asked for you. The whole walk to the infirmary had adrenaline coursing through you, you wanted to run, to fight, to freeze right there in the hall and never move another fucking muscle. The thought of losing him, him being there but not wanting to be near you anymore made you feel sick. It had been so long, so long of repressing those feelings that flared in your chest when he smiled at you during sparring, the feeling of him seated next to you on a flight, his eyes catching yours just so you could stay with him. Well, you thought with dripping ire, that had literally and figuratively been fucked now hadn’t it?  

You knocked, heard his gruff voice, and entered. You stopped dead in your tracks three steps into the room after mistakenly looking up and finding him staring at you from where he sat on the edge of the bed, already dressed, looking like he was about to head out on another call. You were desperately trying not to shake but your hands gave you away. You could take on a man twice your size without batting an eye but this?- you were terrified.

The moment you walked into the room, all his time that morning when he first woke thinking about what he would say to you, how he could face you, was knocked from his mind. You had saved his life. He never wanted that. He wanted to give it to you, it was yours after all. He didn’t know when it had become yours, every single part of him, but if he had to wager a guess it was the moment he found you in his life. And it might all be ruined.

The memories had started coming to him immediately after waking up, almost more clear and real now than in the moment.  It jolted him awake so hard that the attending ran into the room for fear that his hammering heart had in fact given out. Once his breathing had calmed a little, he tried to sift through the fog. His recall of the smell of you, the arousal dripping from between your legs, mixed with your sweat and the familiar scent of your grapefruit and ginger shampoo, nearly pulled a groan from his chest. The soft touch of your hands, cool and strong against the fire that spread through his blood, had brought him back. The feeling of you breaking, the soft whines, the way you said his name… the things he had said, he couldn’t just shut the fuck up could he?

He had to bring his hands up to cover his eyes, willing the images to go away, just for a moment, please, he just needed some time, if only he had time- next time. Next time, he had told you. A desperate promise, a reassurance, trying to tell you that it wasn’t just the chemical coursing through him, it wasn’t just his hijacked nervous system. Did she know? Did she understand? That’s when he asked for you, without thinking, just wanting to see you, to explain. He had never been good with words unless it was biting sarcasm across comms or coolly delivering ultimatums in an interrogation. Then he remembered, the thing that sent his heart barreling through his chest for the second time, the machine next to him screaming. It is good, you had said, it’s ok, it’s ok, you had whispered.  

He ripped the monitors off his chest, ignoring the doctor's protestations, found the clothes that had been brought in for him and got dressed. Now that you were standing here before him he was unsure. You looked scared, and he could count on one hand all the times he had seen you in such a state.

His staring was unnerving, more unnerving than if he had shouted, yelled, grabbed you, anything but this, this was fucking torture. You had to leave, just get off base, go somewhere, anywhere but here- the sudden sound of your name shook you from the reverie. The tone had your eyes finding his immediately.

He stayed seated, scared that if he stood, if he made his way to you, you would run, and you both knew that you were much quicker than him. If you ran, if you left, he would never catch up.  Only when his knuckles began to ache did he realize how tightly he was gripping the edge of the mattress in an effort to keep himself there. It was hard to look at you and not remember the way you had looked when you pressed your hand to his forehead, when you had thrown your head back in pleasure, when you had grabbed his face when he was too exhausted to continue but thankfully no longer felt like he was burning alive. It was hard to remember and not stride across the room and hold you. He took a breath and forced his shoulders to relax in a way that he had done so many times before.

“I-,” he started, his voice cutting through the room, his normal voice, the one you recognized as him and it set you slightly at ease from sheer familiarity, “I’m so sorry.” Now he had to turn his eyes downcast.

“What?” Your response, the shock in your voice, forced him to look at you again. Your hands itched at your sides, confusion rippling across your face.

His eyes narrowed, he knew you so well. Always blaming yourself. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, “I’m sorry that happened, I’m sorry you were put in that position,” the word choice made him nearly cringe. He continued, “I never-I didn’t want it to happen that way.”

Your brain jolted, standing there in shocked silence, his words thundering through your ears accompanied by the pleading of next time.

He pressed on, desperately trying, “I know you, you’re going to think this was your fault. It wasn’t. There was nothing either of us could do, thank you for your, uh, help. Just- fuck, please just say some-,”

Shock still swept through you, the words escaped your mouth before you could think, “Did you mean it?” You figured by the way he leaned back that he knew what you were talking about. Then he held out a hand, palm up, an offering. Before you knew it, you had crossed the room, putting your hand in his and letting it gently pull you between his legs. His giant frame meant even sitting on the gurney that his gaze was level with yours, and those eyes searched your own when one word sounded through the room.

“Yes.”

This word broke you. One fucking word, one word that answered every glance between you two, every smile shared, a word you brokenly whispered into the night when you had a hand between your legs thinking about him knowing you shouldn’t. You hadn’t cried all week, but now the giant tears rolling down your cheeks felt like a release. When his free hand, warm and rough, swiped them away you couldn’t help leaning into it, just as he had done. All tension, all fear, dissipated from the room. That hand continued to just below your ear, cupping your neck, and gently pulling you forward to press his head against yours, eyes shutting, just resting there against each other in the moment.

“What the fuck are we gonna do?” you sighed.

You could feel the smirk that you knew was slipping across his mouth.

“Well, I did say next time.”

This time when you rode him with the small bed creaking beneath the movements, he stopped you any time you tried to speed up (it was your turn to beg and plead), keeping you at a languid torturous pace. That way the bastard had all the time in the world to whisper into your mouth, letting you taste each word, all the things he would do to you next time and all the times after that.

Thank you so much for reading, please let me know what you think! :)

[shititsarat]

alejandro: *trips and falls to the ground* "…"

ghost: "… alejandro."

alejandro: "…"

ghost: "alejandro, are you alright?"

alejandro: "…"

ghost: "alejandro, are you dead?"

alejandro: "…"

ghost: *gently kicks alejandro’s arm*

alejandro: *grumbles*

ghost: "alejandro, why are you not getting up?"

alejandro: "just leave me be."

ghost: *is confused*

[ellenchain]

my canon