#call of duty x reader

[i-love-you-just-the-same]

naps to lovers?

price is an accident, you fall asleep watching a movie with him after he cradles you in his bed. plops down with you to do some paperwork and he's out, too. you wake up cuddled into his chest and pretend not to notice his boner.

next it's johnny. you're both exhausted from sparring and workouts. instead of showering, he pulls you to his bed and tells you to wait for him before you get in. by the time you want up, the sheets are crusted with sweat and soap is on top of you, crushing you to the mattress.

after that, it's both johnny and kyle. smooshed between them after a long hard mission, it's hard not to appreciate two nice pillows. simon has the picture of you three asleep on each other.

kyle finds you in the mess hall after, pulling you to your room with the promise of takeout and uninterrupted rest.

simon is standoffish at first, but eventually offers himself up as a weighted blanket for you after being reprimanded by another force's captain (don't worry, price and gaz are handling it). he lets you hold him close while stroking your hair and face until you drift off. he frequents in odd hours with you (when he knows your alone or stacked up with another one of the boys).

you don't mean for it to, but it becomes much more regular. price pulling you into his lap during late night briefings, soap's head in your lap, and kyle following you back to your room. they get so much more casually affectionate- hands on you at all times, forehead kisses, and sweet words. they begin to take you out together after missions and on off days to movies and shopping (they love dressing you up).

this all builds up to a random friday where they bring you to a house about 30 minutes from base. lately, they'd all been a bit more secretive and making investments "for the wellbeing of the team" like price's new truck that could seat 7. the house has all five of yours stuff in it (ash trays, half finished sketches, sewing kits, kyle's hat on the table). you see some of your missing clothes in one of the big dressers half-opened drawers.

it shouldn't be a surprise to you then when you walk in the bedroom and there's a california king. you really should have expected it, hen, they've been courting you for months!

yeah, johnny's naked on the bed, so what?

[beloveds-embrace]

Imagine 141 moving into a quaint little town post retirement and you’re the only baker in town. You love making sweets, breads, and desserts and own a cute bakery to show for it, know everyone in your town so these four new men who come early morning to try your breakfast deal immediately excite you because- new perspectives and tastes and opinions! It’s become a habit of yours to share bites of whatever new item you plan on adding to the menu, so the more diverse opinions the merrier in your opinion.

And you are glad you didn’t let their demeanor- big gruff men, especially the one with the black surgical mask- scare you away because they are sooo nice, calling you sweetheart, doll, birdie, and bonnie. So many nicknames, it has you blushing the sweetest pink shade. And they are all too happy to help taste-test for you, giving you lots of praise.

(Though you never quite notice their immense disappointment at seeing the little ring on your finger.)

Still, at the very least one of them comes over to your bakery once a day. Sometimes they come together, sometimes only two of them- but they come anyways and tip you every time despite you insisting otherwise. It’s a lovely friendship you build with them. But they do note you never mention your partner much.

Until Simon drops by one day, intent on buying one of your apple pies and maybe fluster you enough to turn the same shade as an apple, and he sees the bruises that peek out just so from your sleeves and the collar of your outfit. Puffy eyes, more makeup than usual, your smile not quite there…

And he understands. He knows this all-too-well. And the fact that it’s happening to an embodiment of sunshine like you? Unfair. Unbelievable. Unacceptable.

Simon gently takes your hands, squeezing them so lightly. “Everything’ll be well, luvie. Promise.” And that’s all he says.

And maybe it’s cruel of you to be happy when you receive a call a few days later, the sherrif of the town telling you your husband was found mauled to death by one of the bears that roam around the woods occasionally, but you just… don’t care.

A week later, when it seems appropriate enough, you open up the bakery again and your smile is blinding as you greet the 141 men and tell them for today, everything’s for free.

[metallictastinglifesupportliquid]

Price: And what do we say when we want something? Y/N, innocently: Give it to me or my five boyfriends will beat you up Price: Well done Y/N- Laswell: NO-

[betweenstorms]

Simon Riley wasn’t your typical tattoo artist.

His shop, tucked away in the quieter corners of the city downtown, was a sanctuary for those who didn’t ask questions. His hands were rough and calloused, scarred from more than just ink, but they were steady, as if the needle was an extension of himself. He rarely spoke, but when he did, his words were rough, gravelly—like he was more comfortable expressing himself through ink than through words. You had heard the rumours, but nothing prepared you for the intensity of his presence when he looked up from his work, his hazel eyes locking onto yours, the first time since you two had met.

You went back to him several times after that.

The buzzing of the tattoo machine filled the small, dimly lit studio, and you sat in the leather chair, nerves jittering in your stomach. Simon stood over you, his fingers ghosting over your skin as he prepped the area, moving with gentle purpose. The tension between you crackled in the air. You’d been here before, more than once, and every time you caught his gaze in the reflection of the mirror, you couldn’t help the flutter in your chest.

Today, though, his hands lingered on your bare skin just a little too long, the faint brush of his knuckles sending a thrill down your spine. It was the kind of attraction that simmered just beneath the surface, like the slow burn of a tattoo needle tracing your skin. As the machine buzzed against the skin of your neck, you found it hard not to watch him through the mirror, the way his dark eyes flicked between your skin and his work, the tension in his body as if he was holding something back.

When the session ended, his fingers lingered on your shoulder, tracing the ink he had just laid down.

Then suddenly he leaned down and you could feel his hot breath against your ear. His voice was a low rasp, almost a growl.

“Don’t get too used to the pain, love. It gets addictive.”

[devil-in-hiding]

(i need to come up with an AU name for these drabbles because honestly i just picture the guys as your roommates when i make these)

“Mary and Joseph does this even count as a skirt?” Johnny breathes, holding up the tiny black skirt between his fingers for Kyle to inspect, hand under his chin. “Think it’s more like underwear.”

“There’s no way you’re actually wearing this.” Simon grunts, snatching the skirt out of Johnny’s hands, eyes squinting as he inspects the garment. He holds it against his own waist, frown deepening and you snort. “Yes, I am Simon. I’ve been saving up for that skirt!”

“For THIS?” He thrusts his hand out, bewilderment written all over his face and you laugh, swiping your skirt out of his giant paws. “It’s got crystals sewn in! See!”

“All I SEE is a something that’s barely going to hold your arse-“

“You look at my arse a lot Riley?”

[ariiadnes]

ㅤ╭ ⿻ ･ of ghosts & coincidences

❧ ꒰ simon riley × call of duty ꒱ ╰┈ ✎ ・・・ me yelling at the top of my lungs : a family fic with simon riley ? real !!! and not delusional at all

simon riley doesn't like public spaces-- too crowded, yet somehow too open all the same. unpredictable. it leaves you too vulnerable, leaves you dead center in the hands of danger. how deeply it keeps him on edge, jaw clenched, gaze hardened towards everyone except you. never you.

he's used to staying by your side, soldier turned shadow-- silent. observing. always looking for a means of escape in a moment's notice, should the need ever arise.

has he learned to lower his guard over the years? no, not in the slightest sense. quite the opposite, he thinks, and he'll admit it in a heartbeat.

things have changed. more to take care of, more to protect. now, you've got a little one-- she's the spitting image of him, as difficult as that is for him to comprehend at times. she's very much entirely the opposite of him in terms of personality : shy, reserved in every sense. he doesn't quite get it, doesn't quite feel like he knows how to be a dad, but time after time these past two years, you've always told him otherwise.

he can't help but dwell-- it's only for a second, but the thought is disrupted by a weak squeeze of his hand. he looks down, greeted by curious eyes that look so damn similar to his, and instinctively, his gaze softens. he reciprocates the gesture-- a silent comfort to his daughter as she crinkles her nose in response, a timid smile on her face.

yes, things have changed. him, his protectiveness. his kindness.

ー the only thing that hasn't changed? his distaste for shopping trips, as mundane as they may be at times. but mundane is good; mundane is safe-- although he wouldn't describe this particular trip as such. not necessarily, and for a few good reasons :

one : you've gone entirely off course with the shopping list. he has no idea how you've all been here for an hour when the list had three items ( you also grabbed those items within the first ten minutes of arrival, by the way ). so while he's not really sure what you're buying, he's also very much okay with staying in his lane and not questioning it.

two : it's... july, isn't it? he stares blankly at the shelves before him.

it is july. there are halloween items on display. he shouldn't care much about it, and he doesn't, not at all, until--

three : until the little kiddo lets go of his hand, eyes wide and absolutely mesmerized at the sight of the outrageously out-of-season decor. her gaze shifts as she looks up at him, bottom lip jutting out the tiniest little bit.

christ. he can see it from a mile away-- that subtle hint of puppy eyes that she seemed to inherit from you ( and was purposely taught by johnny. damn bastard ).

"...go on." he tells her, and so she gingerly explores the aisle, never daring to stray too far from either of you, though you're only a few feet away at the most.

you stand side by side, watching her diligently inspect each item on the shelves. it's sudden-- the way she halts in her steps, that soft gasp just barely heard before her little hands reach for something. you can't quite make out what it is, nor have you seen her move that quickly before-- not even when she rushes into your bedroom during a loud thunderstorm. she clutches onto it for dear life, hugging it tightly to her chest before she runs back to you and simon.

"look!" she beams brightly, proudly holding up...a toy?

okay. cool. you tilt your head slightly. a white blob...shape. thing. whatever. okay. but then she actually turns it around, and ah-- it has a face.

oh. a ghost. a cute, little ghost plushie.

dead silence.

you purse your lips tightly, desperately trying to force back a smile ( and failing ) as you look down at your shoes, suddenly immensely interested in them. you clear your throat, albeit a little dramatically before making eye contact with him, and though anyone else would see a lack of emotion in those eyes, you can see both resignation and confusion in them. it's a moment of silent communication between you two with many, many unspoken questions.

because you have never referred to him as 'ghost', nor have either of you talked about his military service in front of her before. for the sake of everyone's safety, that's a conversation for later down the road. the less she knows, the better.

ー so he doesn't know if this is some strange coincidence or not, because how the hell does his two year old daughter with no prior history of liking anything even remotely related to halloween suddenly get attached to a ghost plush? either way, he's got a headache now.

you focus on your daughter, amusement still very much on your visage.

"whatcha got there, baby?"

you're not sure what answer to expect. you're not sure what to expect at all from this situation, truthfully. her brows furrow as she puts deep consideration into her answer.

"...ghostie."

you almost wonder if this is a fever dream. if this was a television show, you would imagine they'd put crickets chirping in the background. you can feel simon's soul shrivel up and wither away.

"...fucking hell." he mumbles, and you can't help but laugh, gently ruffling her hair.

( yes, you do take ghostie home. no, simon doesn't understand the attachment. and yes, maybe he does take a little bit of pride in knowing that somehow, she was instinctively drawn to something that represents her dad. even if it is a... cute ghost plushie.

he'll make do, he supposes. he'll make do. )

[kiwicopia]

MDNI | Themetober: Scarecrow

Shapeshifter!Simon x Fem!Reader

CW: brief mentions of stalking, brief mentions of voyeurism/reverse voyeurism, mentions of death/corpses/blood, brief cunnilingus, biting/marking, mentions of begging, some degradation, mating press position, squirting, creampie.

tags: @sweetchildcloud

Themetober Masterlist

You were never close with your grandfather on your mother’s side, with him becoming estranged even before her passing. Which was why it surprised you to get a letter in the mail one day, detailing that he had left you a sizeable piece of land in his will. The little farm he lived on was rundown and in desperate need of repairs, which came easily due to the assistance from local neighbors. The only issue, however, was the scarecrow in the cornfields.

A raggedy thing, you thought, with a hulking body that could easily frighten any creature that wandered onto the property. If it weren’t for its graveyard keeper appearance, and the fact that your bedroom window faced the cornfields, you would’ve thought differently about it. Still, against better judgement, and with it keeping the crows from taking what little corn you were able to grow, you decided to keep it where it was—perched up against a large, steady plank of wood that doubled its own size. 

Honestly though, you should have read the letter entirely instead of skimming it. Perhaps if you did that, then everything that followed would make more sense to you. It would have made sense knowing what it was, and had been, to your estranged grandfather. 

The half-buried animal carcasses on the property, the strange grunting noises outside your window at night—along with the milky white substance in the grass below your window—the large paw prints that littered around the edges of the property—sometimes along with dried blood—and the eyes that would watch you from the shadows, only to vanish the second you blinked. Not to mention how, during visits into town, either a crow or a large, black dog—or what you assumed to be a dog—would follow you. The entirety of it was all so strange, and it did little to prepare you for when he finally came to collect what was owed. 

Unbeknownst to you, and due to the skimming of the letter, your estranged grandfather had a deal of sorts with a certain creature—the scarecrow—which you came to find out a little too late one night. “Been waitin’ for ya,” he huffed. His tongue lapped at your cunt, feasting on it like a wild and starved animal. You tasted even better than he had originally imagined, and the soft and sweet moans and mewls that spilled from your lips caused his cock to throb painfully beneath torn jeans. 

Simon groaned, his patience having worn thin with the needless wait as he pulled back and finally freed himself from the confines of his pants. He was hard and ready, with the tip angry and red while weeping small globs of precum. His large hand wrapped around the shaft, pumping once, twice, three times with achingly slow movements. The nights of watching you through your window as you pleasured yourself while he fucked into his hand—in tune with your soft and tantalizing noises—were over. 

“The old man promised.” He lined his cockhead up to your slit, smearing the tip in your slick before impatiently pushing past the folds. “Fuck,” he groaned. You took him so well, with gummy walls hugging his dick tightly. His body pressed against yours, pushing you down further into the bed of hay as his lips kissed against your neck feverishly, resulting in a whine falling from your lips. 

Simon’s cock twitched at the sound, and his hips pulled back before slamming against yours. The sudden movement pulled a sharp cry from you as he repeated the motion. Faster and faster, his pace relentless as his teeth nibbled on the soft flesh of your neck before biting down. He was marking you as his, and in more ways than one. After all, your grandfather made a promise. 

“S’too much,” you whined. Still, his pace remained as it was as he ignored you. The shifter had waited this long for what was owed to him, and he was taking it without any further delay. Simon’s hands were tight on your hips, his fingers pressing into the plump flesh, keeping you still as his cock bullied your pussy. Your soft whining and pleas for him to slow down faded, having been replaced with neediness as you begged for more. 

“Fuckin’ slag,” he growled, his breath hot in your ear as he bit the lobe. His hips snapped against yours once more as he buried himself to the hilt again, and again. “Makin’ me wait f’ya. Makin’ me ‘ear that old man tell me over ‘nd over ‘bout ya.” He hated that. 

Honestly, Simon was glad for his death because it meant getting you. It was a deal made back when he first arrived on the farm, back when he was a walking body without a purpose. Oh, but your grandfather gave him one. Keep the farm safe and he would receive a reward for his hard work. When that reward became you, his sweet ‘ole granddaughter who lived like the man never existed, that was what kept Simon going—and now he finally had you. 

His hands moved from your hips as his body pulled back just enough to shift you into a mating press. The shapeshifter could reach deeper now, with his cockhead bumping against your cervix with each thrust, earning sharp yet delicious sounding cries from your lips. Simon couldn’t be gentle now, not when he finally had you in his grasp. He waited too damn long, with too many nights of fisting himself to the mere thought of you beneath him like this. 

“Fuckin’ ‘ell,” he growled, again. You tightened around him, causing his dick to twitch every now and then as your velvety walls coaxed him towards his release. The harsh slap of his balls smacking against your skin echoed in the barn, and you whined at the sting that accompanied it. “Little more, almost, almost.” Oh, he was close now, with only a few more thrusts until he came undone. 

When your cunt fluttered around him, that was the last straw. Simon pressed his face into your neck, teeth clamped down in a harsh bite that caused you to scream out and squirt around him the same time he spilled into you. His hot, creamy seed mixed with your juices and dribbled out and down the back of your ass when he pulled out of you. 

“Look a’ ya,” he smirked. “Fuckin’ mess now.” You stared up at him with half-lidded eyes and panted hard before leaning your head back to rest. The man mumbled something along of being his mess, but the pounding in your ears from being utterly fucked out had muffled it. 

Maybe you should have read the entire letter, or perhaps you should’ve had a better grandfather. One that didn’t offer you up like a steak to a starving mutt. Too many could haves and should haves for you to care right now. At least you had something akin to a guard dog now, even if the reward was a good fuck. 

[lxvvie]

imagine telling someone like jonathan price to "grow up". imagine the sass and the "price you'll pay" for telling him that over a petty reason. whew i need him

And when you say that, it's crickets afterward. So fuckin' quiet you could hear a mouse piss on cotton.

Price's eyes harden and he's in Cap'n mode. Doesn't even smile his disarmingly charming smile. Shit's gotten real now.

"Come here, sweetheart." Not a suggestion. An order.

You obey.

And when he has you where he wants you, naked, sweaty, and panting, fingers steadily pistoning in and out of you—he won't fuck you just yet—Price'll ask, "Is that grown enough for you, darling?"

Well? Is it?

[lady-boketto]

05. Body Swap! Konig (Call of Duty NSFW)

Summary: You were both hit with a mysterious gas while on a mission and were subjected to be kept under surveillance for your overall safety. But after a nights rest you find out the gas had a rather curious side effect.

You wake up in the middle of the night, your body aching as you swing your legs to the side of the bed. Feeling drowsy as your feet came in contact with the cold floor, you can feel shivers travel through your body as you make your way to the bathroom that was provided with the room.

There is confusion on your face as you reach the door in a couple of strides but your mind writes it off as the room being smaller than you remember. Your hands come up to the wall closest to you as you try to feel for the light switch, it's much lower than you expected which at this point you are starting to get frustrated. When you finally find the damn thing and turn it on, you enter the washroom but wince at the bright light it provided since your eyes were accustomed to the darkness.

That's when you realize why you felt so strange earlier, this was not your hand that you raised in order to shield your eyes from the harsh light. You blink in panic as you rush to the mirror to check yourself out.

You are shocked to see König's blue eyes staring back at you in the reflection, you're in disbelief as you think you are still dreaming. Until you lift an arm up to touch the mirror as your hand pressed firmly against the cool glass, silently confirming that this not in fact, a dream. Once the initial shock wears off, you are suddenly left feeling more concerned than anything.

Will this eventually wear off?

or are you stuck in König's body forever?

Until you realize that you are currently in his body, heat rushes to your face since you'd be lying if you said you weren't curious about the intimate details of what's under König's gear. Your mind is thrown in turmoil over your next course of actions, on one hand you don't want to over step a boundary with a fellow comrade and the other is telling you to take a peak since this may be your only chance. Ultimately your curiosity overpowers all other thoughts telling you this was a bad idea.

Your bring your hands up underneath the shirt that König wore to bed, biting your lip as you noticed he had chest hair and a happy trail that lead into the sweatpants he was wearing as you completely pulled the shirt over the sniper hood you currently wore, deciding it was best to keep his appearance a mystery. You let out a small gasp as you dropped the piece of fabric in surprise as your eyes shamelessly roamed over his body, noticing even more details like his scars and moles that are scattered across his body.

Your mind is in a frenzy at the lewd thoughts that come to mind when you think about how Konig’s body would feel against your own. You were snapped out of your thoughts when you felt your body heat up as you felt a tingling sensation come from your lower abdomen.

You quickly become embarrassed as you feel his length twitch uncomfortably against the fabric of the boxers Konig is currently wearing. With curiosity you bring your hand over Konig’s arousal, gasping as you slowly begin to stroke the entire length of his cock over his pants and underwear. You immediately feel pleasure as you groan out in Konig’s voice, savouring how he sounds.

You can feel his cock getting harder as you lift one hand to one of Konig’s nipples, lightly rolling and playing with the bud, sending shivers through your body as you bite your lip to stifle your moans. Using your other hand to slide down the fabric of his sweatpants enough to finally let his throbbing cock free. You are caught off guard as it slaps against your skin, his tip is already leaking with precum as you grasp the base of it with one hand.

Your face instantly heats up as you feel the weight of Konig’s cock in your hand, moaning as you begin to gently stroke up and down. The motion causes shivers to run through your body as you feel every vein along his shaft as you continue to stroke his cock. You can feel the heat pooling in your belly, feeling a strange sensation as your thighs begin to twitch in pleasure.

You quickly grip the edge of the sink to stabilize your balance as your orgasm hits you like a truck. Panting heavily as you cum into your hand, the after shocks of it still affecting you as you fail to notice that the door has been slightly ajar the whole entire time. A certain figure had also made a mess while watching you in their body.

[kissesbyliz]

simon having beef with your dog.

the thing hates him, he's sure. he's been aware of the fact ever since the first time it jumped up at him, indulging itself with a nice helping of his brand new jeans.

"oh my god!" you gaped at his jeans with horror, immediately scooping the offending animal into your arms. even within its confines, the creature still manages a growl that simon swears is nothing less than evil.

between the sweet apologizes falling from your lips and the way your eyes widened in embarrassment, simon unsurprisingly found it difficult to stay mad. after fixing him a change of clothes and apologizing profusely for your pet's behavior, you urged your pet into its play pen to prevent her from ruining the rest of the night. she stared up at you with wide eyes, letting out a pitiful whine as she was obviously not used to being locked up.

though the inner dog-lover in him should be feeling a twinge of guilt at the sight, simon couldn't deny a sense of victory.

at least now, they were even.

they used to be even. used to. his score was ultimately decimated after countless incidents of your dog peeing all over his boots, stealing his food, and gnawing it's way through the souvenirs he brought for you from missions.

why the thing hates him so much is beyond him. ever since the first incident, he's tried every bribery method under the sun. from endless treats to long walks in her favorite park, all his attempts ended the same way: with his hand being damn near ripped off his arm.

after weeks of no progress, you had brought up the idea of meeting at his place instead. simon refused. he couldn't handle the thought of you traveling the hour it takes to get to his apartment, just to see him. after all, if he could handle countless hordes of enemies and disarm bombs, he sure as hell could handle some dog.

which of course, brings him to his current predicament.

after a particularly long deployment, you've taken the liberty of planning a special welcome home dinner for him and his task force. nothing big, just a small gathering to celebrate a reunion between friends as well as a job well done.

you insisted on doing all the work of preparing the food and letting him relax on the couch. it was a dinner in celebration of him as well, after all. the very last thing simon wanted was to leave you to do all the work, but if he was going to do anything about your dog, he had to do it now.

because even though he'd call his task force some of the closest friends he has, he pales at the idea of them finding out that a dog has him beat. he can already imagine how they'll react: a (horribly) stifled laugh from price, a smart jab from gaz, and an unashamed guffaw from johnny. and of course, the endless amounts of taunting that'll be flowing throughout the base. yeah, that's not going to happen. least of all, in front of his girl.

he approaches the play pen which houses your dog slowly, attempting to seem as unintimidating as he can for someone of his stature. your pet immediately takes notice--has had an eye laser pointed on him since the moment he arrived--and starts up a low growl.

"hey..girl..." he greets awkwardly, crouching down in a manner that allows his every action to be observed. it's evident that your dog couldn't be less happy with his presence, with the way she moves to the opposite end of the enclosure. he sighs, dropping onto the floor next to the pen and wincing at the slight pain shooting up his tailbone.

"why d'ya hate me so much, huh?" your dog huffed, closing her eyes and assuming a sleeping position. simon didn't even know dogs were capable of the silent treatment. unfazed, he pushes on, speaking to the dog as if it miraculously developed the ability to understand him.

"all i wanna do is spend time with my girl, and all you do is try to make me look like the bad guy." he shoots her an unimpressed look. "it's not like i'm gonna take her away, y'know."

to simon's surprise, the dog rises and begins to slowly approach him and for once, without utter disdain in her eyes. simon really didn't expect that to work, but he supposes he doesn't have any room to complain. he gulps -- he's never made it this far before. carefully, he raises a big hand up to stroke over the dog's soft fur.

in a flash, the canine snaps her teeth onto the surface of his skin. hard.

"fuck--!" he snarls, snatching his hand away. at that moment, the doorbell rings and he cradles his aching hand to his chest. he stands up, glaring hard at the animal as he goes to answer the door.

"hey, there's my favorite girl!" johnny pushes past him and beelines for the play pen, where your dog is excitedly standing on its hind legs to greet him. simon's never seen her tail wag so fast. she eagerly yips for him to come closer, bowing to allow him to scratch behind her ears.

"oh, and hey to you too, i guess." johnny briefly nods in acknowledgement in your direction. you playfully roll your eyes, giggling at his display.

"simon. 's good to see you." price offers a brief nod, and kyle pats him on the shoulder before they both walk around him to join johnny at the play pen. the dog takes to the rest of his team just as easily, greeting them all with tail wags and licks to the hand.

simon riley is at a loss.

[kismetlotts]

Kinktober 🎃 day three: Age Gap!

cw: age gap (that is legal), dads best friend trope, virgin reader, pervy John Price, oral sex, mentions of oral sex on John, mentions of bondage, ‘good girl’, degrading names mentioned, mentions of manipulation, riding, creampie, facial

Dad’s best friend John who is always staring at you, eyes lost and almost dizzy looking- like he’s stuck in a trance or deep in thought. Dad’s best friend John who will smile at you, patting your shoulder as he greats you, his hand slipping slightly just skimming over your delicate breasts. Dad’s best friend John who is way too fucking old for you: i mean way too old.

You sat on the guys knee before you could even remember, he helped raise you, taking you to places- picking you up, teasing you like a normal man to his best friend’s daughter would. Not some sick and twisted pervert thats mind has been taken up with thoughts ever since you’d became legal. Naughty fucking thoughts.

He’d wonder what colour panties you were wearing as you pranced around the house, a small smile on your face and you greet him nervously. Maybe they were frilly and pink, so sweet and adorable just like you were- just like you’d taste. God he wanted you on his tongue- riding his face softly as you cry and wail for him to not tell your dad.

And of course he wouldn’t darling, he couldn’t risk his sweet little thing to be taken away from him. He knew it was sick, and for a while he’d tried to silence his thoughts, put a nail in his disgusting sexual fantasies, but he couldn’t.

He couldn’t take one look at you without wondering if you were as wet and turned on as his cock was, but hey, he wasn’t going to fuck you. It wasn’t bad to think of them thoughts if he’d promised to himself to keep his hands to himself- he can look but not touch. Not until tonight at least.

Your dad was out of town, thanks to him- leaving you home alone this halloween. You’d be sat by the door, bowl of candy in your hand and you gave children handfuls with your soft innocent smile, soft innocent smile he’d ruin later.

Your movements were so youthful- looked angelic. He’d wait in the shadows, eyes locked onto the outside of your abode, waiting for the heard of family’s in costume to leave before quickly climbing the steps of your porch and giving your door a loud knock.

It was silly really, fucking ridiculous taking into account all he could lose. He could probably lose his job- as he and your father worked together, could lose his long friendship with your dad definitely and most importantly, he could lose you. If you were to reject him- he wouldn’t know what to do with himself- luckily enough he wasn’t counting on that happening. He’d feel your folds against his dick even if he has to tie you down to do it.

Through the blurred glass of the door he watched you hurriedly pace over, stalking you like prey as your hands gripped the halloween bowl full of vibrant little candy bars, opening the door with a smile before blinking in suprise.

“John?” You spoke, voice almost cracking from the surprise because you weren’t expecting him to arrive. Not today when your dad was away at least.

“Trick or treat.” He teased, pushing past you as he waltzed his way to the kitchen: no invitation needed. Waiting for you by the expensive marble island your dad had recently installed, back perched and arms crossed. Price hated the modern look people gave their homes nowadays, he liked the simple- warm cozy atmosphere over the bland and boring ‘expensive’ type.

You could see the muscles beneath his simple black t-shirt and despite his age he sure did look good. Subconsciously finding your lip caught between your two teeth. What was happening to you tonight? You’d been alone with John before so why did it now feel so.. different?

“My dad’s not here this weekend unfortunately..” You spoke, planting the bowl down on the island, hands placed on the top of the surface and he couldn’t help but watch as your tits buldged so shamelessly, like you were just asking for him to touch, showing off to get a reaction. The sexual atmosphere was enough to send Price over the edge but he clicked his jaw, taking a deep breath and began the conversation.

“I know he isn’t. I gave him the job to do.” It came out sharply and more truthful than he wished it to, taking into account the little eye twitch you did as your store into his. His cock slapping the material of his underwear, leaking more precum than he had ever. The way you were looking at him was pornographic, dirty: you fucking knew what he was here for and you wanted to give it to him.

He didn’t want to waste anytime, instantly walking over towards you, tucking hair behind your ear as he breathed in your scent, grunting in response. He looked down at you, so small and so obedient below him, a good girl. His tongue met your neck and he licked a warm hot line up to your jaw, groaning slowly as he whispered inside your ear.

“Tell me, darling. You a virgin?” Your face heated pathetically as you nodded and heard his chuckle, he was so desperate to get inside you now. Knowing how tight and wet you were bound to be, knowing that he could fuck and fuck all the innocence out of you until you became his personal little cum whore- he could keep you as his if you let him inside. Having leverage and something to hang over your head when you are misbehaving or forgetting who owns you. ‘Oh you don’t want to get on all fours and beg for my dick? That’s fine, I’ll just call your daddy and let him know how bad you wanted it inside you not long ago.’

His hands fell from your face and ear, down to your hips. Falling to one knee as he looked up at you from the floor. Fingers tugging down your bottoms and panties showing your cute little pussy.

“I’ll be gentle okay- it might feel a little strange at first but then you’ll love it.” He whispered, his breath hitting your clit and sending aches of need and desire around your body. You nodded hesitantly because you shouldn’t be doing this- your dad would go fucking insane. His tongue hit your clit, flicking up then down slowly as he sucked- beard rubbing against your thighs. Smirking as you wail in pleasure, fisting his hair quickly and trying to grind your pussy against his tongue. You needed more, god you wanted him to make you feel so good.

He ate you messily, hungry and wanting to drown inside your flavour. It was fucking delicious, his nose and chin dripping with your juices, his mouth busy before he pulled away from your pussy. Grabbing your side and bringing you down to the floor with him, fishing his leaking length out his jeans and and forcing you to ride him.

He was bouncing you up and down, guiding you through it, forcing you to take him despite the tears trickling down your face. He was thick and fucking long, and he hurt like a bitch. The door knocked and rang loudly a few times as you whimpered, trying to standup but he pinned you down, getting on top of you. Fucking you while looking at your face.

“They can get their treat after I get mine.” As he fucked you faster, all the doubts and worries he had vanishing. John just wanted to cum, he was like a dog in heat, pounding his gorgeous little sweetheart on her dad’s kitchen floor. His dick twitched as your hole tightened around him, sucking him inside again before he felt himself undo. Already shooting out his warm cum as he pulled out coating you in his white semen. Your tits shone in the light as beads of white hit your skin, your face and hair dripping with it and he couldn’t have seen a better sight. He could barley look away, his poor little virgin girl infront of him, defiled and fucked out- covered in his cum as your chest heaved for more air. Panting and probably throbbing from the pain.

He stood up shakily, pulling up his underwear before heading back for the door, taking one last look at the mess he’d made before slipping out. He’d have to come back again because one little fuck wasn’t enough. He was addicted to you now and there was no going back.

[tradgedyinwaves]

You could handle the little jabs and taunts. You could handle the eyes staring daggers into your back or the not-so-subtle grazes of male hands against your ass. You were a big girl. You could handle it.

When you took the job on the base near your home, you'd thought you'd landed the best gig. 8am-5pm, Monday through Friday as an assistant to a task force captain. Free meals on base, full access to a gym, and surrounded by attractive men.

The first two weeks had gone by without a hitch, but everyone on base had been on leave. It was only when they'd all returned that things started to go south. Apparently being a civilian on a military base immediately meant you were the new target of their antics.

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Just a peek at something else I've been working on. Not on my normal computer today so I don't have access to my notes for the poly141! x fat!reader story. I promise I'll get something up soon.

[stargirlstabber]

imagine john price eating you out like you're his last meal. a strong arm holding your hips down, stopping you from squirming away from the overstimulation, while his other arm holds your legs open for him. you can't do anything but lay there, shaking and whimpering, taking what he's giving you. and he's not planning to stop anytime soon, not with the way your sweet release tastes.

[eyelambspider]

𝟎𝟔. 𝐄𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐇𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 & 𝐁𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 || 𝐊ö𝐧𝐢𝐠

Day SIX of Kink/Creeptober!! Here is a list of my prompts & event terms!

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : monster!könig x gn!reader 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : Now that you're his (and aren't deterred by the tentacles hiding under his hood) König really doesn't want you to leave. At least, not without a little mark on your skin. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 600 ! 𝐚/𝐧 : this ones more softer but uh-König's needy so- yeah könig's got cuteness aggression towards you :) 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 : established relationship, possessive/obsessive/jealousy themes, tentacles (smh), FLUFF, suggestive (like light smut?)/grinding

𝐀 𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋, 𝐒𝐀𝐃 𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐓. He didn't want you to go so soon.

"Liebling..." he hissed like a loving murmur, trying to convince you to stay with him. "Please?"

He didn't beg, not to a man with a gun pointed to his head, not for anything... except for you.

König was doing everything in his power to change your mind. The tall colonel had you propped on his lap, facing him. His strong arms barred around your waist, cradling the back of your head and trying to smother his face into your scent.

You squirmed a little. He could feel your hips shifting in a way that made him grin against your skin. Purring lovingly into the crook of your neck. The tentacles he once cursed poked out from the bottom of his sniper's veil, tentatively prodding your soft skin.

He adored your skin. The smell, the way it tasted so sweet.

"Please?" he repeated again, feeling a bit disheartened when you didn't answer him initially.

He was getting a bit pushy now. Squeezing your body tighter to his chest, loving the way you just squished against him. Tangling his rough hands into your hair.

You were so verdammt cute.

"König," you stared, the tone implying exactly what he worried.

You were going to leave.

A low growl ebbed from his throat. The tentacles writhing a bit angrily at the thought of letting you go for even a second right now... but he knew he had to.

"Verdammt, sag meinen Namen nicht so…" he whispered, snuggling into your collarbone maybe one last time. Second last time.

He just wanted a bit longer.

"I just... don't like that I can't go with you," he admitted through his teeth. He would be unable to protect you, and although you insist he doesn't need to...

He see's the way other men look at you.

The thought makes him pout again, unexpectedly grinding his hips flush again yours, bouncing you softly in his lap.

"I'm sorry," he grumbled hotly against the shell of your ear. The tentacles from his face slowly receded. From wrapping lovingly around your ear, to playing with the tips of your hair, and unlatching from your neck... to pulling away reluctantly.

König sat up with a sigh and peered down at you, still trying to convey how hard it was to physically let you go. Pouring the emotion into his eyes.

Then he saw it.

Those deep sapphire eyes of his flickering down from your face.

The last of his tendrils had tucked back under his sniper mask comfortably, but there, on the delicate flesh of your throat. One of the suction cups had left a little red mark, one that was quickly fading away.

Before you could shift off his lap, thinking you were finally free. König grabbed your hips with a small, suggestive purr in his voice "Maybe I should give you something before you leave, schatz."

Although his mischief had you... dubious, you sighed and let him pull you back with a soft smile. He was adorable.

König dipped his head back down towards the side of your neck, a tendril lifting the mask just above his mouth so that his lips could feel your skin.

He nearly groaned, feeling your pulse beneath his teeth. A smirk playing on his scarred lips as he imagined how pretty you would look with his little bite marks all over your skin.

It would leave no doubt in his mind then: He would let you leave only once you were covered in them. Enough for every other man to see that you were his.

König panted against you, kissing gingerly before he nipped the sensitive flesh harshly, leaving a pretty bruise under his tongue.

[duck-a-doodle]

More tactical cuddlebug? Please I beg of you

A/N: My my, so sorry for the late response it has been a hectic semester. Here goes nothing and I hope you enjoy it! :-)

[No beta we die like McTavish.]

TACTICAL CUDDLEBUG HEADCANONS

Despite their many years in the military, which meant few surprises for the team, you were still something they marvelled at when they think about you as an addition

You were a refreshing breeze to the stale air of their grey compound, and you began to rub off on them

Across the list of military personnel which they have met, you were the most "small"

By no means were you miniscule, but to them you just felt different

Most soldiers have a hard shell and an even harder personality, but you had a tough shell with a "squishy heart", according to Johnny

This observation led to various responses, such as a heavy urge to pat you on the arm, back or head

Johnny was quick to lean into it, even going as far as to squish your cheeks, enjoying your presence and damn near treating you like his favourite teddy bear

Once you joined him in his bunk to help with his crossword puzzle and he pulled invited you onto his blankets for better comfort, and Simon, who came to remind him of a briefing, walked back out the door the moment he opened it

Gaz was second to come to terms with enjoying the physical contact, and he loves to nudge you in the side and give you a side hug like a brother would

On his best days he would sit on the couch with you and read together, each of you on one end of the couch with your legs stacked comfortably like pick-up sticks

Price's affections came few but not rare, and somehow his eyes seemed a little brighter after a few pats your head, tucking away the memory of watching you lean into his hand

His hugs are the best when you bid him goodbye when either of you have separate ops to take on, and the warmth you get from his soul-crushing hugs are another high

Simon would engage with you more than Johnny if not for the fact that he was conflicted

He already hangs around you more than Gaz or Price which speaks plenty for itself

He was quiet and mostly helpless against this odd feeling of needing to be in physical contact with you, thus he cannot help but do it albeit he does so stiffly or roughly

He will needlessly grab your vest and aggressively tighten it "for your safety", followed by a heavy tap on your helmet before everyone settles into the flight

Johnny tells you during the ride that Simon cannot handle the fact that he is facing cuteness aggression and that he has caught Simon several times clenching his fist when he sees your mess of a collar to keep from fixing it

He was not quiet enough and received a hefty smack on the back of his heavy duty headgear from the man he mentioned

You think that they are all either as cuddly as they say you are, or that they are simply extremely touch starved people, for whom you have opened the floodgates to affection

The truth is, every single member of the team are cuddlebugs, but it has become a silent agreement that the title goes to and remains upon you alone.

[betweenstorms]

The nights with Simon Riley had a way of unfolding slowly, like the dark sky stretching over the city.

He stood on the balcony of your apartment, his tall figure dark against the dim glow of the city, the cigarette between his fingers casting a faint light over his hardened features. You watched him from the doorway, the way he exhaled smoke like he was letting out something heavier than just nicotine. His broad shoulders were relaxed but there was something in the way he leaned on the railing, something distant and unreachable.

You’d grown used to finding him there, slipping out in the dead of night to be alone with his thoughts.

Your relationship with Simon was still new, still delicate, and you respected the walls he kept between you and the parts of himself he wasn’t ready to share. You were still learning how to be with him, how to exist in his world without pressing for more than he was willing to give. But there was something about the way he stood out there, still and alone, that made you want to join him.

You pulled a thick blanket around your shoulders and stepped outside, the cold air biting at your skin as you moved to stand beside him. He didn’t turn to look at you, but the subtle shift in his posture let you know he was aware of your presence.

The quiet stretched, filled only by the soft crackle of his cigarette and the distant hum of the city below.

For a moment, you worried you might be intruding, that this space of his was one you weren’t meant to enter. But then, without turning his head, he exhaled a cloud of smoke and murmured.

“You’ll catch a cold, love.”

His voice was low, rough from years of shouting orders and biting back pain, yet there was a gentleness in it that made your heart ache. You tugged the blanket tighter around yourself, your breath a soft mist in the chill of the night.

“You’ll catch one too,” you whispered back, eyes flicking to him from beneath your lashes. He hummed in response, the sound deep and thoughtful. The smoke from his cigarette trailed into the air, disappearing into the night like his words, but the weight of whatever he was thinking lingered, hanging between you like a thin thread.

For a second, you were afraid that your company might be unwelcome, that maybe this was one of those nights where the weight of his silence was too much for him to bear. 

He grunted, “Been through worse.”

You hesitated, then softly asked, “Worse?”

He was quiet for a moment, as if weighing whether to let you in or to leave the conversation hanging in the cold night air. But then, almost casually, he answered, “Siberia. Had to lie in the snow for a whole day during an op, waitin’ for the target. It was so fuckin’ cold it felt like my bones were freezin’ from the inside out.”

His words were blunt, delivered in that deadpan tone he used when talking about his past, as if it was nothing more than a simple fact. Simon didn’t elaborate, he never did. He’d always let his sentences drift into the silence, leaving you to piece together the fragments of the life he kept hidden from you. From everyone.

The weight of his words hung in the air, heavier than the smoke that curled between you. You shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold. For a second, the city seemed to fade, the world narrowing to the bite of winter and the quiet strength of the man beside you.

Without thinking, you shifted closer to him, the blanket still wrapped around your shoulders, but now you pulled a corner of it over him, too. He glanced down at the blanket with a raised eyebrow, his cigarette paused halfway to his lips.

You thought he might brush it off, that he would retreat back into himself, but his reaction surprised you. He shifted slightly, allowing the blanket to cover more of him. It was subtle, the way he leaned just a little closer, but it was enough for you to feel the solid warmth of his body next to yours.

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips as you looked at him, half-shrouded in the blanket.

“Sounds miserable,” you teased, your voice soft but light, trying to coax him out of the darkness of that memory.

He scoffed, taking another deep drag from his cigarette. The sound was somewhere between amusement and disbelief, as if the idea of it being miserable had never even crossed his mind.

Simon turned slightly, the cigarette held loosely between his fingers as he offered it to you, the soft glow of the ash flickering in the dim light. You shook your head. He hummed again, eyes briefly flicking over you before he brought the cigarette back to his lips, inhaling deeply, turning away from you. His gaze remained fixed on the distant horizon, his thoughts far from the balcony, but you felt the shift in his mood. The heaviness in the air began to lift, like a cloud of smoke dissipating into the wind.

You both stood there for a while in silence, wrapped in the makeshift cocoon of the blanket, the cold air still nipping at your cheeks but no longer biting through the layers. You could feel his steady presence beside you, grounding you in a way that words couldn’t. It wasn’t just about sharing warmth, it was also about sharing space, about the quiet understanding that you didn’t need to fill the silence with anything more than your nearness.

Eventually, Simon stubbed out his cigarette on the balcony railing, his fingers lingering on the metal for a moment as if grounding himself in the coolness of it. He didn’t pull away from the blanket, though. Instead, he leaned back against the railing, turning slightly so that he could see you fully for the first time since you stepped out.

Then suddenly, out of the blue, Simon reached for you.

His rough, calloused fingers found your chin with a gentleness that surprised you, catching it as if inspecting you closely. His touch was cool, still carrying the remnants of the night air, but you melted into it, pressing your cheek slightly against his hand. His thumb traced a slow, deliberate path along your jaw as you blinked up at him, heart fluttering at the intimacy of the moment.

There was something in the way he held you, something so gentle it almost broke your heart. He tilted his head to the side, his hazel eyes flickering with something unreadable and thoughtful, as though he were studying your reaction in the quiet way only he could.

His steady gaze lingered for a bit, then he dropped his hand, his fingers brushing against your arm as he did so. The warmth of his touch still burned on your skin, even after it was gone, and you found yourself smiling up at him, your heart full of something soft.

“Cold?”

His voice was low, barely above a murmur, but you could hear the faintest hint of amusement in it. You shook your head, pulling the blanket tighter around the both of you, leaning just a little closer to him, letting the warmth of his body seep into yours.

“Not anymore.”

Your words barely reached him, but you knew he’d heard you.

Simon didn’t answer, instead, he shifted closer, his arm wrapping around you beneath the blanket, pulling you into the solid warmth of his chest. You pressed your face into him, your breath warm against his shirt, and for the first time that night, you felt the quiet truth that had settled between you.