#mw22

[a-gromova]

Going Dark

[sprout-fics]

Tag, You're It: Prologue

(Poly 141 x Reader)

Masterlist

Rating: Explicit, 18+ WordCount: 1.2k Tags: Poly 141 x reader, Established relationships, F! Reader, Minors DNI Warnings: Discussions of consensual non consent A/N: This will be a brief but fun little series based off this series of drabbles

When you first talk about it, the team gives you a look.

The room goes still, the five of you lounging around the rec room table on base, where a collection of bottles and snacks litters the surface. The quiet solitude of evening hangs subtle between you all, and if you breathe in you can smell the lingering trace of shampoo, all of you scrubbed fresh and clean following your arrival back after a successful mission. Here, gathered together in mutual company, it’s you who lets the words fall out of your mouth to the surprise of the men around you.

“I want you all to chase me down and take turns on me.”

It takes a minute for the silence to settle in the aftermath of your words, and you teeth your lip as your eyes flick to the men around you, gauging their expressions. Gaz is frozen where he sits, a chip halfway to his mouth and he stares at you wordlessly, unblinking in his shock. Beside him, Soap’s mouth is agape, and you resist the urge to tell him “You’re going to catch flies, Johnny.” Ghost seems at least mildly taken aback, a rare look for him as his eyes widen under the mask. 

It’s Price, though, who releases a heavy breath in his disbelief, tilts his head so he looks at you from under his thick eyebrows. 

“That’s…an interesting proposition, love.” He finally offers, and you offer him a little sheepish shrug under the intensity of his stare. 

“You mean like hunting you?” Soap finally supplies, a little louder, and Gaz nudges him with an elbow, hissing something about the soldiers sleeping on the floor above you all. Soap rubs the sore spot with a little frown at his mate before turning back to you expectantly. 

You fidget with the empty bottle in your hands, feeling your face warm as they all stare. You’re half-tempted to tell them to forget it, but you know your partners won’t accept that, will coax the words from you one way or another, force you to admit to your own lewd desires. 

“Well, yeah.” You begin, avoiding their eyes abashedly. “Like…a training exercise almost. Trying to see how much I can avoid you all before you manage to find me?”

They’re all processing the concept, you can tell, and the fact that they are actually considering it sends your heart into a nervous flutter of possibility. 

“Catch and release.” Ghost offers after a few moments of silence, and there’s a drag of his voice that speaks of interest, hidden under a veil of amusement at the brashness of your declaration. 

“Essentially.” You reply, a little quieter, waiting for them to tell you no, expecting them to find a reason to not do it. 

“-and when we catch you…” Gaz continues, mulling over the proposition as his gaze fixates on the collection of snacks on the table, brow wrinkled in thought before his eyes lift to you. 

“You fuck me.” You finish for him, and you see something in his eyes glint at that, a little excited, eager.

“I could get behind that.” He announces, taking another swig of his beer, not hiding the smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“Well, yeah, that’s the point, sergeant.” You tell him, and Gaz chokes a little as the beer goes down. 

“What if we don’t find you?” Soap asks, and you teeth your lip at that, considering.

“You think we won’t?” Ghost replies smoothly, and that sends a shiver through you, the utter certainty that he speaks with. Not an if, but a when. He catches your eyes across the table, and it fixes you to the spot, the weight of his dark eyes that betray his interest. 

You needed little convincing. You think to yourself, allowing yourself to grin at him enthusiastically. 

“We’d have to plan it.” Price announces gruffly, drawing the four of you to look at him. A hand cups the bottom of his face as he considers, eyes dark with thought. “Rules and safety systems aside, we’d need timing, supplies…” He blinks abruptly, realizing the rest of you now look at him with no small amount of shock.

You rock back in your chair a little, pleased but still trying not to betray your excitement too soon, sipping on your drink as the men around you continue to process your offer. 

“I’m in.” Soap declares after a minute of silence, his grin cheeky and bright in the best ways of him. “Always loved me a game of hide n’ seek.”

You watch as the other men around him give some indication of agreement, and even in the silence you can tell they’re softening to the idea after their initial shock. It makes a bright warmth flutter in your chest, realizing once more the power you have over these men that you adore, who will do what they can to please both you and each other. The bond between you all runs far beyond that of camaraderie, a trust and affection that often has you all falling into each others beds, tucked into chests and gentle kisses offered in the soft aftermath. 

“Are we really doing this?” Gaz asks then, and you all exchange a series of looks, wordless meanings given through eye contact. 

Price breathes out again, and catches your eyes meaningfully across the table, holding it for a long, weighted moment before speaking. 

“Your call, love.” He tells you, and it sends an unintentional thrill up your spine, a little jolt of electricity as you consider the ultimate possibilities. 

You make a point to take a long swig of your drink, releasing a satisfied sigh before the glass clinks down on the table. 

“Don’t expect me to go easy on you.” You announce cheekily, and it makes something hungry darken Price’s gaze as your excitement bleeds into him. 

He leans forward, resting his arms on the table, and you all listen as he goes on to announce boundaries, rules of engagement. He pauses as each of you offer thoughts and ideas in turn, considering the possibilities, suggesting times, limits, windows of opportunity. You think at first they’re all just entertaining the idea, thinking about it and trying to find reasons it won’t work. Yet as the conversation goes on, as the drinks empty and the snacks dwindle to nothing, you begin to realize it’s actually happening.

The words between you all last well into the night, when Price suggests you all get some sleep before entertaining the idea further. Yet when you wake the next morning and blearily wander into the briefing room, you find them discussing it further still. Planning, considering, fixing flaws in the plan. 

You decide upon a time, off-areas, safewords, things off and on the table, and eventually you all wait in anxious anticipation for the day to arrive where you’ll be set free, chased down by four deadly, capable hunters and given the treatment you so desperately want. 

When you awake on the fated morning, well before dawn, your phone pings with a little message in the chat between the five of you, announcing the beginning of the games. 

“Tag, you’re it ;)”

Taglist: Please reblog this chapter to be added to the taglist for future updates!

[bonitanightmxres]

Break the Rules || JOHN PRICE

PAIRING: Captain John Price x f!reader

SYNOPSIS: Months after breaking up, you and price agree to a “no strings attached” relationship to fill the void in your lives—but it proves to be harder than anticipated when you both start to catch feelings again.

WARNINGS: smut, 18+ mdni, angst, language, some kinda fluff i think lol

WORD COUNT: 3.1k

Price’s breath becomes heavy as you lay underneath him, wrists pinned to the bed. He mutters a string of curses as he thrusts into you, hips meeting yours. You can tell not by his pace, but by the force with which John digs into your hips with his hands as he grabs hold of you that he’s had a rough day. So rough, in fact, that he’s being rough with you; because on those days, you woke up the next morning with purple bruises that perfectly matched the shape of his fingers.

When your hands traveled along his body, and found their grip on his back as your nails dug into the skin, he shuddered. Obviously, you’d done it on purpose, knowing full well how to elicit that kind of reaction– it wasn’t your first time doing that to him. You were gentle, though, just barely grazing the skin as you scratched his back, careful to not be too rough. You both knew the rule– no visible marks. After all, you had appearances to keep. If he were to change in the locker room with his team in the vicinity, he didn’t need all the questions as to where he got all the marks on his back from, and he especially didn’t need them to ask about you; and you, for one, could really do without having to waste makeup on hiding hickeys and bruises again. But, you did wonder what it might be like if you did happen to break the rules a little. Just thinking about other people seeing the marks you’d leave on his skin the way you used to, made your heart race; or if he just let loose every once in a while and accidentally lost himself in you, and left a hickey or two on your shoulder peeking out of the collar of your shirt so that your friends could see; and they could ask you who left it, and you’d giggle shyly, telling them about your rekindled romance. 

Yeah, that was something you’d sell your soul for.

With the way he begins to slow down and make sure that he’s inside you as deep as possible with every languid thrust tells you that he’s close. He was easy to read like that. As he buries his head in your neck, the hair of his beard tickles your skin and his deep groans become louder for you to hear. You place your hands on the back of his head, softly tugging at his hair, coaxing the orgasm out of him the way that you’d done before, knowing that it always made him cum just a little bit harder. You smirk a little when you’re proven right and feel him twitch; all he can muster out is a breathy “fuckin’ hell”. When his body collapses next to yours, you have half the mind to curl up closer to him, to nuzzle your way around his arm and place a hand on his chest and feel his heartbeat. But that would be too intimate– and that’s against the rules.

Sex was just sex. Simple as that– two consenting adults in an agreement to use each other without any kind of romantic feelings. And who better to be in this kind of agreement with than your ex-lover? The one who knew everything about you, down to how to make you writhe and beg for more. The rules in this agreement were his idea, so as to not get confused, given your history with each other. And you had been perfectly fine with them at the time.

But that all began to change.

“I’m gonna shower. You’re more than welcome to join me,” you say cheekily as you enter the bathroom, and he chuckles slightly. “But if you’re gone by the time I get out, have a good day. Tell the boys I say hi.”

He was always gone by the time you finished showering after sex. And tonight was no different. But that didn’t stop you from wishing that maybe one night you’d come back to find him sleeping soundly in your bed again. Or that you’d wake up in the middle of the night with his arm draped over you, thumb softly rubbing your arm as he drifted off to sleep because that’s how he fell asleep the fastest. You scoffed at yourself in the mirror as you combed the tangles out of your hair.

How pathetic, you thought. You’re over here losing your fucking mind dreaming up some perfect little fairytale where you and John Price live happily ever after when you’re the reason you’re broken up in the first place. Hell, for all you knew, there was some other girl waiting for him in her bed too. But maybe he took his time with her, talked with her about things other than work or the weather; or better yet, maybe on her bad days, he didn’t know what to do, so he just held her. Or maybe he was the one who confided in her, and talked through his frustrations with her and thanked her for being there for him, instead of taking out his frustrations on her with her ass up and face in the pillows like he did with you. Obviously, you weren’t complaining about that, but you wanted more. You wanted the relationship that you and Price had agreed to keep out of whatever this was. No other woman had known him like you did—how he liked his breakfast in the morning, and that he preferred to spend his weekends out and about, but appreciated weekends spent inside the house. And the thought of him going to someone else for the things he used to go to you for, made you sick. 

Physically and emotionally ill.

But it wasn’t that John was some animal, some kind of alpha type who didn’t suddenly didn’t care about you and your feelings, since technically you weren’t together anymore. That wasn’t the case at all—it was the opposite. He always made sure to talk to you, make sure you were good to go, or that you were okay afterwards, and that was the problem, ironically. John Price treated you like something more than just the woman he was fucking and somehow in the middle of all the complexities and hesitations, he made you feel like you were his again and you fucking hated it. You hated it because it hurt too much to admit that you missed him. If only he’d been mean, or treated you like you meant nothing to him–then your life would’ve been easier.

But, no.

Instead, he treated you as he always had done, even way back when you were dating; from greeting you with a smile to offering to help clean you up if need be—but you never let him, electing to take a shower each time instead. Not because you didn’t want him to, but because you couldn’t stand to sleep while smelling of him, not when you couldn’t call him yours. With every quick hug or kiss on the head, he only made you fall harder, which went against the whole foundation of what you guys had. It was rule number one, and you had gone and fucked up and broken it like a fool.

A couple weeks had gone by since the last time John had heard from you. Every time the ding of his phone went off, he hurried to it, hoping that it might have been you. Of course, none of his notifications were you, as he’d kept your conversation muted on the ‘do not disturb’ setting on his phone. It was too risky. If his task force ever caught a glimpse of your name in his phone or any of the messages, he’d never hear the end of it. It wasn’t that he was embarrassed by you, but more so that he had a reputation to keep. How was it going to look if he, the captain, were distracted? If something went wrong on a mission, he’d blame himself for being too caught up in his own world than paying necessary attention to what really mattered.

That’s what he told himself anyway, and for a while, he believed it.

But it drove him fucking crazy. If he could, he’d go back to that Monday night all those months ago, and ignore the tension between you as you tried to talk through your relationship; he’d put aside his own desire and he’d stop himself from making the second worst decision of his life by declining your proposal to continue seeing each other with “no strings attached”. But if he really could, he’d go back to the beginning of that stressful phase in your relationship that took a toll on both of you; and he’d stop himself from making the worst decision of his life–letting you go.

Every time you sought each other out, he became more addicted than the last. And John knew it was starting to affect you too, he hoped it did. With the way you’d softly touch him when you thought he’d fallen asleep, or the way you wanted to just talk with him. He saw it in your eyes when you held back, wanting more so desperately but were afraid to do it, afraid that you’d push him away. 

And when you sent him a text during the third week of not having heard from you, he knew he was ruined for good.

—

You promised yourself that you wouldn’t do it, that you’d keep your urges to yourself and find some other way to satiate the hunger that ran rampant through your body. But there was nothing like John and there was no way you were going to be satisfied until you had him.

So there you were, sat on top of him, legs on either side of his waist as you take every bit of him inside, and ride him in a way that his cock hits your walls with every movement of your hips. He sits up on the bed, while his big hands keep you in place. Your arms are wrapped around his neck, pulling him close so that you’re chest to chest. Hiding your face in his neck, you want to scream his name, but you hold back, biting your bottom lip and only allowing yourself to quietly moan. But the way that he holds your waist, guiding you up and down, or forward and back in such a way that he knows makes your body react more, makes it harder to keep control. You need more. You want more, but it feels so fucking good right now that you’re practically put into a trance, like you’re moving on autopilot with not a care in the world. Your vision becomes blurry, and your brain is consumed with the feeling of ecstasy that comes with riding John like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do.

“Nghhh,” you cry out when you feel his cock hit just the right spot, nearly making you cum right then and there that you have to grab onto his shoulders for support and lift your head. “I-I’m… God, fuck–”

“That’s it,” he coos, trailing his hands up your body, giving your breasts a rub and a pinch to your nipples, sending a sudden shock through your body. “That’s my girl.”

He didn’t mean to say it, it just came out in the heat of the moment and he regretted it as soon as the words fell off his lips. Price wanted to apologize, but he feared he’d be making a big deal out of nothing because, of course, it was just sex. Maybe you didn’t even realize what he’d said. Still, “my girl” was way too out of line. It was reserved for those people in relationships, the ones who talked about their feelings and waited for the other to get home from work. “My girl” was what he had called you before and he hadn’t said it since until now.

Your whines fill the room and they show just how much you need him tonight. Nearly reaching your climax, it’s like a red alarm went off in your head—you don’t want it to end. Because when you cum–which won't be too far off in the future–John will leave and you’re left alone again, as always. So you slow down your impending high as much as you can, slowing the rock of your hips and slowing the way your body slides up and down on his cock. It was supposed to help keep your orgasm from crashing down on you, but the way you’re suddenly forced to feel every inch of him, every vein so slowly, it feels like it’s going to make you burst. The knot in your stomach grows, and you can feel your body desperate to let go and feel the wave of desire wash over you. And the way that John’s practically an expert when it comes to your body makes it hard. He knows exactly where to touch you, how to make you cry out for more, and he’s using that to his advantage. The way your eyes turn glossy, with not a thought behind them spurs him on and inflates his ego. He wants you to cum, he wants you to come undone on top of him, right before his eyes, knowing that it’s his cock that’s got you losing control of your own body. He couldn’t care less about his own pleasure, but with what you’re doing and how absolutely fucking beautiful you look while doing it, he’s not far behind you. He flexes and thrusts his hips back into you so hard that his skin slaps against yours. John is just as eager as you, but he’s not the one trying to hold off from cumming. He knows you want it too, if not more than he does, and every time he bucks into you, you can feel him subtly pick up his pace.

“J-John… wai–”

It’s too late, you can’t even finish your sentence before tension within you snaps and euphoria clouds your mind. And you’re still coming down from your high as John continues to fuck you, his thrusts becoming more erratic and sloppy. This was his favorite—well, aside from having your lips around his cock and fucking your throat—watching you ride the waves of your orgasm; whether you were on top or underneath him, there was something angelic about the way you fluttered your eyes, trying to keep them open; and the way that he could see your cheeks turn red, even in the darkness of night with only the dim brightness from the string of lights around your room. The sinful sight of your gorgeous form above him is what sends him right over the edge and leaves him in a cloudy state of mind.

When you both catch your breath, he shifts his body backward onto the bed, and lays down. Gently, he guides you down, allowing you to lay on him for a moment, which isn’t necessarily new, but it makes you feel complete. Your head lays on his shoulder, while a hand of his travels up and down your back. The roughness of his palm and fingers send shivers down your spine, and threaten to lull you to sleep.

John brushes the hair out of your face with his fingers, wanting to get a better look at you in your peaceful state; he had to admit, though, this might be his new favorite sight. Your eyes open, and you look at him, confused. There was a soft tiredness behind them, that reminded him of a waking puppy. And god, every time you blinked with those eyes, he was willing to ruin his life a hundred different ways.

The rough pad of his thumb swipes across your cheek. Staring at your lips, he leaned forward and kissed you, catching you off guard when his tongue brushed your bottom lip and easily slipped into your mouth. It’d been so long since he kissed you like this; with such fervor, such desperation, like suddenly his life was dependent on tasting you, and your heart pounds as John kisses you eagerly, so hungrily. But as much as you’d been conjuring up scenes in your mind about what this would finally feel like, you can’t help but wonder if this is all just some cruel dream that you’ll wake up from in a matter of minutes; you can’t enjoy this, your mind refuses to let you because he’s just broken his own rule and he doesn’t seem to care.

Pulling away quickly, you climb off of him, and search for your clothes scattered all over the place, “I-I can’t do this anymore, John.”

He’s taken aback, watching you hurriedly pull a t-shirt over your head and not realizing that it’s actually inside out. John gets up, pulling his clothes on too, and follows you into the living room of your apartment. You’re grabbing his things, shoving them into his arms like you’re a teenager trying to rush a boy out of her parent’s house.

“Hang on a minute,” he says, setting his keys and wallet down on your counter. “You can’t do what?”

“This!” You shout, pointing a finger at both you and him. “Whatever fucking mess we are, I can’t do it anymore!” Clutching your hair in your fists, you pause to take a breath, “I just… I can’t…” And as quickly as the anger came, it left; and was replaced by a familiar sorrow. “I can’t keep pretending like it doesn’t hurt every time you leave. Like I don’t lay there alone at night, wishing you would just stay.”

“And what about me, eh? You don’t think about what I’m going through?” Price is slow as he takes small steps toward you, afraid that any sudden movement will set you off and scare you away. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he was angry with you, but what you hear in his voice is frustration. “You take your showers after our nights together, probably hoping to rid yourself of me, and I bet it works, doesn’t it? But everything about you is so ingrained into my mind and body that showers can’t fix that problem for me.”

Price stands directly in front of you, rubbing your shoulders as he closes his eyes and presses a kiss to your forehead. Wrapping his arms around you tightly, he rests his chin on your head. It’s the first time you feel this close to him, despite all of these months spent entangled together in your bed. He just stands there, hugging you, and softly rubbing your back. Your arms inch their way around him too, and you give him a small squeeze. John’s grip around you doesn’t waver, and for the first time in months, you’re not afraid of him leaving.

“I regret this,” he says, lifting your chin up, so that you’re looking at him. “So fuckin’ much.”

The way your eyes look like you’re about to cry makes his heart ache. He can see the tears filling the brim of your eyes, and he knows how much you’re holding them in.

“I should’ve never agreed to this.” His voice is soft, nearly a whisper.

For a moment, you’re afraid that he’ll leave again and not come back so you grab onto his arm, begging him to stay. “I’m sorry, John,” your voice cracks as some of the tears finally break free and slide down your cheek. “For everything. I-I should’ve.. I should’ve fought harder for us.. I shouldn’t have let things get in the way, of what we had, I.. I ruined us.” By now, you’re choking out sobs, gasping for breath, but all you can do is lean into his chest as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a hug.

“Shh, take it easy, love, don’t blame yourself,” he rubs your back soothingly, the way he once did. “I’m not faultless here. I should’ve taken more care of you, should’ve seen the signs…” He presses a kiss to your head, “I want us to date properly again, celebrate our anniversaries, and do other things in that bed of yours, like sleep for once.” You chuckle at the last bit, and he smiles; he’s always loved hearing your laugh. “Because I don’t think I can go another day like this. I don’t just want you at night, I want you all the time.” 

“A-are you sure you want this again?” You ask, wiping your cheeks, and having a hard time believing that you were having a crisis over everything you lost and yet gaining it all back in the same night. “What about the rules?”

“Fuck ‘em,” he shrugs, reassuring you that you are what he wants. “We’ll break every last one.”

a/n: i’m trying to get out of this writer’s block 😭 and i never proofread so apologies for any mistakes lol

[sunarctus]

Look....I love Ghost I do....but sometimes his mask with no other headgear looks a lil goofy sometimes...like....

IS THIS NOT GIVING THE SAME EXACT ENERGY!?!?

[cozyhuii]

that one warzone dialogue

[moondirti]

So we’ve all established that Simon is a dom king. Hear me out here, what if one day you miraculously manage to convince him to let you ride him, and he miraculously concedes. And the entire time, he’s making fun of you. “Oh is my pet too tired?” And even if you try and prove your point by grinding down on him harder, his breath barely stutters before his big strong hands wrap almost entirely around your waist, and slam you down onto him. “Can’t get off without me can you?” And he’s just teasing you constantly, making fun of you, reminding you that it doesn’t matter what you try, he’s always in control, and he’s the only one that can make you cum.

I’m simping so fucking hard for this man, I want him to choke me and just kill me tbh

YOU’RE KILLING ME! My god yes, he would be such a little shit if he ever lets you take control.

Simon’s not trying to discourage you, no. He thinks it’s cute when you get pent up, aggressive with your teeth bared, wanting to be on top for a change. So he lets you; though, a major part of the reason (nothing he’d admit) is for the inevitable amusement he’ll derive when you realise you’ve bitten off more than you can chew. He’s big in missionary, but in cowgirl? He’s practically fucking your guts.

Your breath stutters when you’re halfway down; already, you’re stretched beyond what you can handle. Usually, Ghost is there to rub your clit and ease the tension in your muscles, but hey, you’re in charge, pet. That’s up to you now.

So you swallow your tears and press your hands to his wide chest, balancing yourself on your haunches as his throbbing cock splits you open. You’ve lost the plot, can’t even muster the focus to command him. Simon sees it in your quivering thighs, the sweat that plasters your hair to your forehead. He knows you’re sorely regretting this, and hell if he doesn’t take the opportunity to tease you relentlessly for it.

‘Something the matter?’ and ‘C’mon now, be a big girl.’ All the while, you’re close to collapsing, situating yourself fully on him, his balls pressed tight to the dip of your ass. He can’t deny that it feels good; you’re impossibly tighter like this, sucking him in like a soaked vacuum. But after one, two, three thrusts, you’re finally sobbing - begging him to just flip you over and fuck you properly.

Who is he to refuse?

[aiilenox]

🧼👻

[quizzyisdone]

i present to u, a meme made in ms paint

[mikk1n]

😏 Gaz time

[pluvillion]

The King and The Tiger.

saw their pairing from one tweet; made this render as an agreement. "Körangi" is legitimately one of the best partner names i've heard. "König" meaning "king" in German and "Horangi" meaning "Tiger" in Korean. absolute genius, i tell you.

[wardencouslands]

CAPT. JOHN PRICE — BRAVO 0-6

“These things take violence and timing, I can do both.”

[a-gromova]

5.56x45 Blues

[sprout-fics]

I have a request for a drabble...

König and the reader having a cozy morning together in bed

(Also I have a very sensitive neck and kisses, hands being here, licking, anything with my neck I melt, I would like to see his reactions with that.. or him teasing the reader with it)

Thank you so much and happy new year! 🤍

Anon this is SO late I apologize

(I'm running out of Gifs to use I think)

(Spooning, cuddling, sleepy morning snuggles, clingy Konig, touching, hickeys, pillow talk)

You’re used to rousing early in the mornings, eyes blinking awake before even the birds sing quiet songs of dawn. It’s a byproduct of your line of work.  In the military there’s much to do at first light- assigning squads, morning roster, drills, equipment checks, intel briefings at the minimum. Usually by the time the sky is cast with light you’re already at the weapons range, the training ground, poring over mission reports. 

Which is why now, when your eyes flutter open and you find the hazy, golden light of dawn peeking through the curtains, your mind clouds with gentle, bleary confusion. 

That is until you shift, and immediately notice the huge, veiny arm wrapped around your front. Immovable, unbudging even in sleep. 

It takes you a moment to gain your bearings, still cuddled under the mess of blankets your boyfriend has managed to kick and twist in his sleep. Yet the man himself is miraculously still, his forehead braced into your shoulder where his dozing, warm breaths billow into your skin. 

He’s managed to drag you to him in sleep, both arms tucked securely around your smaller form. One hand splays across the exposed flesh of your stomach, buried there under your night shirt. When you shift, stretch in his embrace it curls there, closing just as you feel him rouse, hum a sleepy note of acknowledgement. 

“Guten Morgen.” You mutter to him, one hand coming to rest on the hand tucked along your tummy. 

Yet König merely grumbles, arms flexing as he drags you closer, his head burrowing into the soft junction of your neck and shoulder. He shifts, one leg raising under the blankets so it tangles with yours, his knee pressing up between your thighs. You allow it, let yourself burrow back into his warmth to stave off the early morning chill. 

“Awake?” You ask gently, and the giant huffs into your shoulder, his warm breath seeping into your spine.

“Nein.” He replies drowsily, his voice a low, rough scrape in his throat as it rasps with sleep. 

You smile, bare your neck another inch for his cold nose to skim along the skin. 

“Don’t want to get up.” He murmurs there, and you feel the plush of his lips graze against your flesh when he does. “Want to stay with you in my arms, Liebling.”

“So clingy.” You tease, and yet make no effort to move, more than content to remain exactly where you are.

“Nur fur dich.” He mumbles, words obscured before he shifts, raises his lips to ghost across the shell of your ear. “Only for you.”

You can’t suppress a shiver at the hot breath that tickles your sensitive skin. When you do, König smiles, hums a low, rolling note in his chest.

“You’re so soft in my arms, Liebling.” He purrs, voice dipping with suggestion. “So warm.”

Eyes fluttering shut once more, you let out a dewy sigh as König’s calloused, broad palm raises higher under your shirt. 

“Y-you must have slept well.” You remark, trying to keep the gasp from your voice when his hand skims across the rise of your chest appreciatively. 

König only makes a small, sleepy noise of assent behind you, shifts so his knee rises higher between your thighs. You jerk reflexively when it stops just short of your core, feeling warmth rise to your face when the soldier behind your chuckles. 

“So sensitive.” He teases, and you have nothing to respond with when his teeth suddenly scrape along the dip of your shoulder. Yet instead of a bite he presses a gentle kiss there, letting it trail along your skin as his lips raise back up to your neck.

“W-when you touch me l-like that, I- ah!” You gasp as his lips secure around the soft, supple flesh below your jaw and suck.

His hold on your is unrelenting as you arch against him with a little whine, fingers sinking into the meat of his forearm to ground yourself against the sudden warm, melting pleasure of his touch. 

Yet he’s had a taste of you now, one that fills his mouth as much as it does his heart, drunk of the feeling of your wriggling little movements and short little gasps as he suckles against the hickey. 

“K-König.” You mewl, soft and pliant in his arms, eyes fluttering shut in bliss. 

“Stay.” He mutters when his lips pull away, and you feel him smile as you shudder free a breathy gasp just as he rolls a nipple between his fingers. “In my arms, just a little longer.”

You smile, cheeks warm as you huff free a breath and then shift, sinking dowards so you grind along his thigh, whisper your reply within this realm of pale morning light.

“Nur fur dich.” 

[rafesadlers]

how the cod characters play among us

inspired by: me just playing among us with my friends

GRAVES: takes everything way too seriously but gets really mad when he is caught as the impostor. makes really unbelievable claims to try to save himself. just gets mad in general.

GAZ: was the one who introduced among us to everyone else. is the instigator and causes the fights in both chat and voice call. doesn’t speak when is impostor.

RODOLFO: terrible at staying alive. is typically one of the first ones to die. really good at being impostor, though.

SOAP: doesn’t do his tasks and gets mad when people tell him to do them. likes to “dance” under the security cameras. is always the one to take forever to vote and just chooses the skip option every time.

ALEJANDRO: likes to follow rudy but whenever the lights are shut off, rudy is killed and he tries to avenge the impostor. ends up being the second one killed.

GHOST: really good impostor. but whenever soap is following him around, he kills him in front of the crowd. causes sabotages to perform a stacked kill and pretends to argue with everyone else.

VALERIA: thinks it’s stupid but likes to bully the boys in the chat. always wins whenever she’s impostor.

PRICE: doesn’t know how to play. “it told me to go in the bloody vent so i went in the fucking bloody vent!” is the one who asks people to watch him throw the trash.

FARAH: always the first one done with her tasks and then accompanies alex in the security room. hides in certain spots to try to spot the impostor.

KATE: refuses to play with everyone else (she actually hates being killed and will haunt the person who left her alone in the first place).

ALEX: always gets lost because the maps are “too hard”. stays in security watching the cameras but ends up getting killed because of it.

KÖNIG: rage quits. nearly shits himself whenever he is killed. panics really easily during the game and tries to run to hit the emergency button but gets killed right as the meeting starts.

[sunarctus]

I can't stop thinking about ghost tryna eat his dumb ice cream...what a loser

Inspired by @ homokonig on twitter and their drawing

[maskedgh0st]

Constantly thinking about Soap who flirts through banter. He realizes he's into you when he can't help but pick on you just to keep the conversation going. You two flirt by constantly trying to one up each other, boasting about kill counts and shaving off a few seconds in the training range. Instead of soft kisses your touches are fingers jabbed into chests or the way he tousles your hair to get under your skin. The rest of the team isn't sure if you're going to kiss or tear each other to shreds.