Modern Warfare X Reader - Tumblr Posts

Eating this shit UP omg 😫💗

「✰」 ━━ NIKOLAI HEADCANONS

RATING R - Restricted [ Content Warnings : 18+ mdni, gn!m!f!reader, strong language, alcohol mention and consumption, fluff, possible mistranslation, spider mention, smut, dom!Nikolai, sub!reader, exhibitionism, cunnilingus, praise, degradation, masturbation, riding, hair pulling ]

SYNOPSIS Both general and romantic, safe for work and not safe for work, headcanons for, arguably, one of the most underrated Call of Duty: Modern Warfare characters to date - Nikolai. (This is my first time writing smut so any tips and feedback is greatly appreciated!)

WORD COUNT 1.2k

SAFE FOR WORK

His hands, and just his body overall, run naturally warm. Not to the point where he can be considered a "walking heater" or burning to the touch, but just exudes a constant warmness overall.

Dad-bod, no questions asked. He's not completely cut, not all hard surfaces and muscles - he's got a plush softness to him body that's equally as firm. He works out and keeps himself in shape, of course, because, granted, it's a given that comes with his profession, but he indulges himself equally as much.

He doesn't drink heavily, per se, setting a hard cut-off point for himself that he abides by like it's law, but he won't deny a drink if he's offered it. After all, drinking culture is big in Russia - he can hold his own just fine. That being said, vodka isn't his favorite, but he doesn't hate it by any means, either.

Acts of service and quality time are his love languages. He loves spending time with you whenever he can, especially considering how his profession can take him away for months and more at a time. If it's possible, you're always by his side or he's by yours. Will do anything you ask of him, too - be it chores, tasks, or anything else.

That being said, it can also be argued that giving gifts is one of his primary love languages, too. Any time he's out on a mission, he always tries to get you something from wherever he's been to - there are many perks to being a pilot, now aren't there?

He snores when he sleeps, and he sleeps heavy. Not to the point where you'd have to dump a bucket of ice water over him to wake him up, but to the point where you have to shake him vigorously to get him to slowly rouse. Sounds like a lawnmower when he snores.

His kisses are soft and slow, one hand on your waist or back, pulling you in, while the other holds your chin with such tenderness, guiding your lips to meet his, breathing out a heavy sigh as he relaxes into you.

Opts for Russian terms of endearment over English ones. It feels more personal to him, calling you something in his native tongue rather than something he hears everyone around him call their partners - it's more special to him.

Лапушка/Лапочка - Lapochka/Lapushka (sweetheart)

Любимая/Любимый - Lyubimaya/Lyubimyy (darling)

Surprisingly or not, he's actually a really good cook! He's traveled to so many places and tried so many different kinds of food so, naturally, he's learned to make them for himself. He downplays his abilities, but he looks like an absolute professional when he's in the kitchen.

When he's not away for work, he's actually quite domestic. He has a house of his own far away from everyone else in a remote little town, at least an hour or two outside of any major city. A cabin of sorts, with a place for his own little garden that he tends to (or, more accurately, which you tend to).

He even has his own little stall at the town's farmers market where he sells what he grows whenever it's ready. Everyone has so many theories about him because, honestly - why wouldn't they? A Russian man who lives at the edge of town in a big ol' house, disappearing for weeks or months at a time. It's a cause for concern.

He's so polite and he has the best manners, no question about it.

Though, to combat it, he can be quite a loose-canon. He's reckless and unethical in his methods, especially with work, but some aspects carry over to his personal and domestic life. (If there's a spider, he's pulling out his pistol first, not grabbing a book or a shoe).

He has this sarcastic, almost morbid sense of humor, smug as all hell (worse than Graves, more often than not) but he's genuinely just playful. He's a friend to everyone he meets and can easily match vibes with anyone.

NOT SAFE FOR WORK

Dominant in every sense of the word. He might let you act like you're in control from time to time, but he's quick to show you your place and has no shame in doing it.

His hands are always on you, no matter the occasion. He has to have some sort of physical contact when it comes to you. Be it a hand on the small of your back to guide you, on your shoulder to assure his presence, his leg touching yours when you sit down, a palm on your thigh as he drives.

One-hundred percent an ass man. Squeezing, slapping, spanking, groping - doesn't matter. If he can, his hand is there, no discussion.

He's an exhibitionist, easily. The risk of getting caught, whether if he's by himself or if he's with you, turns him on beyond belief - it gets his head spinning.

Helicopter sex! He's absolutely obsessed with getting you to ride him while he sits in the cockpit, holding onto your hips, fingers bruising into the skin, his legs spread wide with his jumper zipped down as far as it can go, fucking up into you as you bounce on his cock.

Jerks himself off in his helicopter too, biting down onto his fist as he fucks into his hand with purpose.

He's noisy! All grunts and growls, whispering to you how good you feel, practically narrating what he's doing sometimes.

It's a balance of praise and degradation that he gives. Sometimes it fifty-fifty, saying how you're taking him so well, like a good whore should. Sometimes it switches from one to the other (be it extremes or not) - it just depends.

Gives oral like job. Steady grip on your thighs, pushing them back and wide and buries himself between them for as long as you'll allow him to. He's so sloppy with it too, drooling and spitting all over you as he sucks you off/eats you out. (If you look close enough, you can tell it's started to bleach his beard, too).

Takes his time fucking you. He doesn't like quickies at all - if he isn't able to fuck you at the pace he wants, he isn't doing it. Now, this doesn't necessarily mean that he isn't up for hard and fast sex, but it's more so that he doesn't like time constraints.

More often than not, though, he goes slow (at least, at first), teasing you until you're begging before slowly pushing into you, dragging his cock in and out of you at an excruciating pace.

Speaking of, too, he's such a tease and he knows it.

Loves loves loves pulling and grabbing your hair, forcing you to arch your back as he pounds into you from behind relentlessly, watching the way your ass ripples with every snap of his hips.

Dumbification, too. Loves getting you all cock-drunk and fucked out to the point where you can't think for yourself, teasing you and borderline-mocking you as he slides a hand down your stomach, bringing his thumb down to your clit and making slow circles around it/grabbing the base of your cock and slowly stroking up and down it as he coos at you.

This goes hand in hand with overstimulation - loves making you cum over and over and over again until you can't think and it's too much, only to coax another orgasm out of you.

Hi! I don’t know if your requests are open currently so you can ignore this, but I was wondering if you could write something involving Nikolai being a soft dom as he overstimulates the reader, whispering praises into her ear as he coax another orgasm out of her?? I totally think he’s great at aftercare too but that might just be me 🤭 (Also love love LOVE your writing, and this is def inspired by your Nikolai hc’s that I loved too!!) 🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽‼️

「✰」 ━━ HONEY AND MOLASSES

RATING R - Restricted [ Content warnings : 18+ mdni, afab!reader, feminine pronouns used, soft-dom!Nikolai, sub!reader, overstimulation, cunnilingus, oral sex, vaginal fingering, praise, body worship, slight biting, vulgar language, aftercare ]

SYNOPSIS As seen in the request above. (I wrote this in an hour straight, not stopping once. I don't know what possessed me, and I don't even know if this is good, but I really hope you like it. Thank you for the kind words. 🫶) Translations provided at the bottom!

WORD COUNT 1.3k

“Come on, малышка, you can give me another, нет?”

He asks rhetorically, voice low yet so sickly sweet, dripping from his lips as if it were laced with honey and molasses, a sweetness starkly contrasting with the way his thumb circles your clit in slow, counterclockwise circles, the rough padding juxtaposing the softness of his touch, two of his thick fingers filling you to be so utterly full as he curls and stretches them inside of you.

It’s the sweetest feeling, yet the cruelest torture. He’s kept you like this for what feels like hours, drawing orgasm after orgasm out of you that you can’t even find the strength in your arms to push or kick him away, left only to whine and keen out in loud, breathy sounds that he listens to like a gospel, the slurred words that fall from your lips sounding like nothing less than a prayer.

A prayer to him - for him.

“Nnn…”

You try to start, the first letter of his name finding its way to the tip of your tongue, ready to fold out and flourish into something more - a plea for him to stop or keep going, you don’t know - before it dies off, crumbles, and shatters, replaced by another whine as he replaces his thumb with his tongue, his chest rumbling as he chuckles deeply with nothing short of amusement.

His fingers continue their ministrations, curling so deeply inside of you that you swear you can feel him in your stomach, arching your back up into his touch and trying to shy away from it at the same time. You’re so drunk on the pleasure he’s been providing to you non-stop that, at this point, you can’t tell if you love it or if you hate it.

“Taking my fingers so well, aren’t you?”

He coos out in a whisper, his nose pressing against your lower abdomen, barely taking his tongue away for a few seconds to speak before it returns, providing you with its undivided attention. His free hand keeps one of your legs pressed back, keeping you wide open for him as he squeezes softly onto the flesh of the underside of your thigh.

“Ты так хорошо принимаешь все, что я тебе даю. Это так прекрасно.”

Your body jerks and spasms as you get closer and closer to your release, borderline thrashing against the bed as you whine out as his tongue quickens in the way it teases and abuses your poor, swollen clit, all puffy from the attention he’s been giving it, his fingers pumping and curling and stretching out your cunt in a way that makes you twitch.

God, it’s so beautifully devastating.

“Can’t… t… too much.”

You complain out to him, voice hoarse and raw, a broken sob passing through your lips and settling into the air between you both, mixing and intertwining with the smell of sex, weaving into a blanket of pleasure. He chuckles, his eyes crinkling as he does so, before he takes your clit into his mouth and sucks hard onto it, making your breath stutter as it depletes from your lungs.

And then everything blurs.

Your orgasm hits you like a semi-truck, having you teeter over the edge of pleasure before pushing you in without warning, your eyes rolling back into your head as your back arches, your whole body tensing as you clench and gush around his fingers, completely soaking them with the warm slickness of your climax - though, granted, everything up to his knuckles has been soaked in nothing but your slick and cum for the past while, so there’s hardly any difference.

“There you go, beautiful girl. That’s it.”

He murmurs softly, his tongue gently flicking your clit in slow, unhurried movements, working to draw out your orgasm to the very last second before finally - finally pulling away, pressing one last kiss to it that makes you jolt as he slowly slides his fingers out of you, the makeshift plug that they had acted as being removed, a small amount of your own cum and slick trickling out of you.

It’s an intoxinactingly sinful sight, one that makes him groan deep as he licks off his fingers and knuckles, tongue tracing over every bump and dip of his hands as he cleans remnants of you from it, watching the haze that coats your eyes as your body twitches and shivers ever-so slightly, riding out the last of your high as your body slowly begins to melt into the plush fabric of the bed.

The sight makes him grin, the scruff of his beard scratching against your inner thigh as he leans back, pressing a gentle kiss to it, nibbling softly as he translates his pure adoration into the action, littering kisses and gentle bites all along the skin of your left thigh, before transitioning to the right one, mumbling soft praises against your skin as he does so.

“So perfect for me. Pretty sight, you are. You already know that though, да? Of course you do. Smart thing, too.”

He’s muttering softly to himself, lost in his own world as you lose yourself in yours, dumb from all of the pleasure he’s given to you, having drawn… four? Five orgasms out of you? You can’t even tell or remember at this point, having lost track when the sun first went down outside - it’s pitch black now, so it must have been a while ago.

He worships your body as if it were a work of art - a marble statue sculpted by the ancient Greeks, a work of art for only his eyes to see, to adore, to lust for, to praise, to grab, to touch, to hold, to kiss, to bite, to lick, to worship. Because you are everything to him. You’re the reason he gets up in the mornings and the reason he sleeps so peacefully at night.

A goddess amongst mankind, he muses.

His hands traverse the curves of your form, greedily grabbing and tugging at every inch of skin that he can find, pulling you closer and further into his own bare frame, pressing kisses against your skin, and licking hot, wet paths along your body, as if he were following a map to find a treasure he’s spent his whole life searching for, utterly obsessed with the journey he’s set out on.

Your thighs, your cunt, your tummy, your tits, your shoulders, your hands, your neck… refusing to stop until every inch of skin on your body has been touched by his lips and his words, mumbling out lowly, breathily against the underside of your chin as he continues to travel upwards, right until he finds himself hovering above you, his lips a hairsbreadth away from your own.

“My pretty girl.”

“Y…”

You try to start, wanting to affirm his words and say “yours”, but you’re too fucked out to even think about what letter comes next in that response, your mind too lost in the foggy daze it’s lost itself in, your eyes long having glazed over as you stare at him, blinking slowly with your lips parted, mouth open, having so many words to say but not nearly enough energy or focus to form them.

He silences your words with a kiss to your lips, and you can taste every part of yourself on his tongue as he tastes your lips, swallowing the word from your lungs and your mind until you forget it, only focused on him, fingers reaching upwards with strain towards his cheeks, trying to pull him in impossibly closer, to which he chuckles, the sound reverberating against your chest.

He tuts and clicks his tongue as he gently pats your outer thigh, pulling back by a few inches, his eyes lost in a haze of their own.

“Come on. Let me get you cleaned and fed. You’ve been so good for me. You deserve it.”

And how could you ever deny him?

малышка - baby, baby girl

нет - no

Ты так хорошо принимаешь все, что я тебе даю. Это так прекрасно. - You are so good at taking everything I give you. It's so beautiful.

да - yes

「✰」 ━━ PISTOL WHIPPED

RATING R - Restricted [Content warnings: 18+ mdni, f!sub!reader, dom!Makarov, he’s a mean man, mistranslated Russian, mention and depiction of firearms, gunplay, smut, cockwarming, degradation, light praise, riding ]

SYNOPSIS Makarov is a busy man in every sense of the word, and while most tasks are highly important and meticulous, there are some that are more mundane than others - such as taking care of his weapons. Which... is exactly what he's occupied himself with doing now. But even though he's busy, you deserve some attention, don't you? (Based on the image above).

WORD COUNT 2.1k

"Vladimir..."

You whine out softly, nose pressed into the crook of his neck as your fingers desperately hold onto his bare shoulders. Your legs hang loosely, dangling beside the legs of the metal chair, though, you’d much rather they be wrapped around his hips right now.

He lets out a dismissive hum, his head right next to your ear as he peers over your shoulder, chin barely an inch above it as he focuses on dragging the cloth along the disassembled component in his hands - the slide - seeming to be far more focused on it than you.

Another pathetic whine passes through your lips, and you can feel his cock throb inside of your warm, wet walls, your slick drooling down your inner thighs and, no doubt, standing the fabric of his dark slacks with the mess you’ve made of yourself.

“Please, Vlad…”

You practically hiccup out, whimpering out pitifully, your pussy squeeze around him as tight at you can, just barely shifting your hips in hopes of getting so much as an ounce of friction, to urge him to leave what he’s doing and fuck you-

“If you do not stop acting like a desperate, impatient mutt, you will have to wait for much longer for me to fuck you than it takes to clean a few guns.”

Another whimper passes through your lips - which, funnily enough, does sound very similar to that of a dog, only further proving his words. Your grip on his shoulders tighten as your hips still, bottom lip trembling as you squeeze your eyes shut.

Truthfully, you had no one but yourself to blame but yourself for the predicament you find yourself in now, sat in Vladimir’s lap, cockwarming him for what has felt like hours now.

If only you had been patient, if only you had been good and waited until he was done with his task like he had ask of you, if only you hadn’t been so needy and desperate for his attention and his cock that you willingly agreed to cockwarming him until he was done.

But no, you hadn’t done any of that, so now you can only curse yourself for the torture he’s putting you through - that you put yourself through. Though, you suppose there is an upside to having him shirtless as he works to complete the task at hand.

He’s cleaned four or five guns through completely at this point, disassembling and reassembling them in their entirety, all clean and laid neatly across cloth to the left of his work station.

The one he’s currently focused on - a Five Seven - lays completely disassembled before him as he cleans it, a multitude of different cleaning items strewn around meticulously, with two more handguns to go on his right.

It’s a process he prides himself in, it would seem, and with the expertise he displays, it’s clear that this is an often occurrence.

“Убогий жопа.” (Needy brat)

He mumbles out to himself, almost as if to chastise you, resting his chin gently against your shoulder as he listens to all of the pathetic little sounds you make - irritating, maybe, but at least you’re listening.

His bare chest presses flush against your own clothed one, the planes of it hard as it presses against you. He’s lean, but not lacking in body heat, his concentrated breaths, his skin, and his cock all practically searing you.

“So desperate when I have already given you so much.”

You let out another whimper, the sound bleeding into a moan as he ever-so subtly rocks his hips before stilling. It’s cruel, giving you the friction you so desperately desire, only for him to not continue on any further.

“I’m sorry…”

You hiccup, sniffling out, cunt squeezing him and drooling messy slick around him, just as needy as you are.

He hums, this time not dismissive, but rather acknowledging, one of his dirty, oiled, greasy hands moving to rest atop one of your hips, smearing the dark substance all over your skin.

“Are you going to behave?”

He asks, tone still cold and harsh as it typically is, leaving the impression that he’s sick and tired of your antics, but the softness in his actions combats it - though, he does lightly slap your hip, urging you to answer.

“Mhmm! I promise. I won’t move, I swear. Not an inch. I won’t move at all. I’ll stay still. Won’t even make sounds if you want me to. I can be quiet. Patient, too. I promise. I can wait. I can be good.”

Your words come out in a desperate ramble and flurry of vowels and consonants, eager to please and prove to him that you can listen. It’s pathetic and desperate, yes, but to you it’s required.

He clicks his tongue softly, slowly, breathing out through his nostrils as he brings his hand back away from your hip and continues to meticulously clean through each of the different areas of the firearm.

He seems pleased by your answer, you think, but it’s impossible to tell. To you and nearly everyone that knows him, Vladimir is a man who doesn’t slip up. He’s cold, calculating, and ensures every move he makes is in his favor.

The sounds of cloth gliding across metal and the brush gliding through as it works to clean the interior parts fill the air. The sounds are barely audible, but they blend well with the sound of your heavy breathing - his is silent.

It’s only when he’s wiping off his hands and reassembling the Five Seven that he speaks again, voice low and rough as it rumbles right next to your ear, the metal clicking and moving where it should as per his movements.

“I expected you to be much less patient, you know, but you have surprised me. You have been as patient as you can, considering how… full you are right now.”

He emphasizes his words with a sharp buck of his hips, a moan effortlessly slipping out past your lips, a soft plap sounding out, muffled only by the fabric of his slacks as they pull back and meet your slick-soaked thighs.

The minimal contact already works to steal the breath from your lungs, his cock molding itself into your poor, sopping pussy. Your eyes unfocus for a brief moment, dazed and dizzy, but it feels so good.

“Perhaps I should reward you, да?”

He muses, detaching his chest from your own as he leans backwards as he lets his back rest against the back of the metal chair. He spreads his legs out, thighs straining against his slacks as he shifts, getting comfortable.

He rolls his shoulders backwards, one of his hands coming to rest atop your thigh, pressing into the flesh as he moves his palm up and down - towards your hip, then back down to your thigh.

His other hand, however, holds the reassembled Five Seven, the cool metal tapping against the side of your ass.

Unloaded, of course, given how he had just cleaned it, but that doesn’t stop the sharp spark of anticipation that settles in your stomach. The danger that surrounds the weapon soaks your cunt impossibly further.

“Move.”

The command barely has a moment to pass through the air and through your ears before you can comprehend what he means by his words. He’s spread himself all out for you, offering you what you’ve been craving this entire time.

And you’d be stupid to not take him up on his generosity.

Your hold tightens on his shoulders as you ground yourself against him, rolling your hips forwards with a keen, letting out a hiccup, mumbling out soft “thank you”s over and over to him as you grind into him.

A shaky, uneven breath escapes his lungs, his expression hardening as he works to not make a single noise - the task, though, is much more difficult than it appears - his body remaining still as he lets you do all of the work.

He drags the barrel of the gun across your skin, the coolness of the metal juxtaposing the heat that radiates from your skin. His other hand grips harshly onto your hip, following your motions with a strangled groan.

He splits you open and overwhelms you in the best way possible, his cock filling you up so well as you rock back and forth along the length of it, raising and dropping your hips as you force his tip to kiss your cervix.

Vladimir lets out a strangled Russian curse, fighting against his own body to keep still as you continue to bounce on his cock, his slacks no doubt ruined by now from how much of your slick and his pre-cum has soaked into it.

But he can’t complain - he has more than enough pairs as is, and you just look too pretty riding him, so desperate and needy for what only he can give you. How could he ever be upset?

Wet tears streams down your cheeks and onto the skin of his bare shoulder, rolling down across his inked chest as you whine, bullying and bruising his cock to completely ruin your poor pussy.

It’s too much, but you can’t stop.

“V- … oh, fuck. Vlad, please. M’so close. Please let me cum. Please.”

You whine, sweat soaking through your clothes as you pick your head up from his shoulder, hiccuping, whining, whimpering, and moaning out like a whore as you lose yourself, completely and utterly cockdrunk.

His fingers tense, both against your skin and the handgun, your flesh spilling out between the gaps between his fingers. He brings the pistol down across your thigh, slotting it between them so that the barrel can press right against your clit.

Even as you try to pull away from the cool, hard metal, he doesn’t let you, keeping it presses tightly to your clit so that, with every motion, you grind down against it, dragging across the smooth surface.

Even if you wanted to protest, you can’t, the pressure in your lower tummy tightening so much, toes curling as your nails dig into his shoulders as pleasure streams through your veins.

Your pussy completely gushes around him, flooding his cock as you squeeze him like a vice, breaths coming out in shaky, desperate gasps and choked moans spilling past your lips.

You cum hard enough that it leaves you dizzy, boneless and breathless, hips jerking as your body trembles with spasms in aftershocks of pleasure, drool trailing past your lips as you babble out to him needily.

He taps the barrel of the gun against your clit, drawing out your orgasm until it’s too much, leaving you writhing. Still, he doesn’t let you pull away, eyes focused solely on the point of contact between you and the weapon.

He grits his teeth, looking down at you as sweat drips down the side of his head, bucking his hips upwards. He knows how overstimulated you must be as he now puts his efforts into fucking up into you, but he doesn’t care.

All he’s focused on is filling your sweet, needy cunt with his cum and nothing more.

It only takes a few thrusts on his part, the way you had been rising and sinking down on his cock earlier in the chase for your own release making his lose his mind - not that he would ever openly admit it.

With a sharp curse, arching his back and pressing his hips up into you as much as his current position will allow, the sounds of your desperation for mercy filling the air, he feels his balls tighten, letting out a strangled groan as his cock pumps rope after rope of his cum into your waiting cunt.

The air between you both, now as his hips drop and he stills, is filled with nothing but gasps and pants, the two of you completely and utterly breathless, soaked with sweat and bodily fluids.

“It turns out better when you listen, does it not?”

He mumbles out rhetorically, giving one last weak buck of his hips before he brings his hand up and behind you, unceremoniously dropping the handgun - now covered with a mixture of your cum and his - back onto the table.

He can clean it later, just as he can with the other waiting to be cleaned. For now, all he’s concerned with is catching his breath before he makes an even bigger mess of his work station and bends you over it. It’s all he’ll ever need.

So this is basically my first ever post, and first ever fanfic? I guess. So if it's really crappy, don't come after me :,,

SN: I also did this at 12 in the morning so ignore all grammar mistakes -

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141 + Val - reader; always having candy on them. E.g. lollipop, warhead, skittles, etc.

-------------------------------------------------

Simon Ghost Riley:

During a briefing, Ghost had briefly looked at you. Seeing you holding some sort of bright and colourful packaging and fishing out a coloured candy and popping it in your mouth confused him. It was quite early in the morning, specifically six thirty-two am. So how on earth were you eating sweets? Hold on, how on earth did you even get a hold of them?

He had remembered another time, not too long ago seeing you on the field while they were going over the plan once more. He remembered you popping a lollipop into your mouth.

Another memory pops into his head, you were walking around base chewing on bubble gum, from where he was standing in the hallway he could smell how sweet it was. It was so sweet that Ghost swears he can still smell it now. The thought almost made him gag.

"Ghost, the briefing has ended." Your voice startled him. "What? Oh, yeah." Ghost was a bit too busy in thought and hadn't noticed the briefing had ended.

"Are.. are you-" Simon interrupted you. "Why do you have so many sweets?"

You laughed. "Huh? Oh, uhm. I have quite a big sweet tooth, haha." Well, that explained your frequent habit.

John Soap Mactavish:

Obviously Soap had noticed your habit early on. And of course, the man had quite a sweet tooth too. So, everytime he had noticed you eating a sweet. He would always put his hand out Infront of you, hoping to atleast get a handful of whatever sweet you decided to snack on.

But, sometimes he would notice you snacking on bright coloured candy on the field. And obviously, that concerned him. I mean, who wouldn't it concern? You were on the field, this was a life or death situation. And you were... Snacking on sweets.

Jesus Christ, he shouldn't be focusing on you eating sweets. He should be focusing on getting out of this situation. Although, you and him might have a talk after this mission about snacking on sweets..

Captain John Price:

Of course John would be a bit worried noticing that you would eat sweets and lollies quite frequently. So frequently that he had to pull you into his office about you eating so many sweets.

"Are you okay?" Price spoke breaking the silence. "What do you mean?" Obviously that was a bit odd to say without any context.

"You eat so many sweets so frequently, are you okay? I've heard that your generation does stress eating. So are-" You cut him off. "Of course I'm okay! I just have a sweet tooth, cap. Quite a big one too."

"Oh." Price was a bit dumbfounded, why didn't he think about that? "Haha, yeah. Nothing wrong with me, cap. Well- not currently. I think?-"

Price sighs. "You worry me kid. But don't eat too much. You'll get sick." You beamed. "Aye aye captain!"

Kyle Gaz Garrick:

Of course he was fine with your habit the first few times. But later on, he noticed your habit getting... Worse?- Ah, he doesn't know... But, just incase. He talked to you about your sweet habit.

So, when he had the time and both of you were free and walking about he stopped you. Right in the hallway.

Gaz started the conversation. "Hey! Uhm... Why do you... Eat so many... Sweets?" Of course you were a bit confused on why he was asking. I mean, who wouldn't? "I just have a large sweet tooth and had lots of places to fit some sweets. Why?"

"Ah, no reason. I thought it was just.. uhm... y'know.... Uh ..." Yeah, no. He has no idea why. He just thought... Nothing. Well.. at least his question was answered?-

Alejandro Vargas:

You both were in your room relaxing. You lying on your bed, Alejandro next to the side of the bed. Alejandro wasn't really paying attention and looked as if he were about to doze off in a second. So, with him in his in world, you basically could do whatever you wanted without Alejandro. That is.. if you didn't make a lot of noise..

So, of course. The only logical thing you could've done in the situation. Was to reach over to the opposite side of the bed, on the other side of where Alejandro was sitting, and to fish out a colorful bag. You twisted your body to the bag of sweets and looked for your favorite flavor. Of course, you weren't paying much attention and hadn't noticed that Alejandro had snapped out of his gaze from the sound of your sweet bag being moved around.

Fishing out your favorite flavor, you made a noise of your victory. "What are you doing?" Alejandro had interrupted your victory. "Er, just grabbing a sweet.."

"You always have a candy on you, don't you?" Alejandro asked jokingly. "Well, actually. I do." Telling Alejandro about your habit of keeping sweets near you.

"Don't eat too much." That was all Alejandro had said before he moved around to get comfortable on the floor. Nothing else. Just that. Huh, guess he didn't really mind or care. Oh well!

Valeria Garza:

Valeria didn't get why you were so obsessed with sugar. But, if they made you happy then she didn't mind. But, of course. She had to ask about your obsession with sugary treats.

So, when you and her were both alone in a room. She had to ask about your habit. Interrupting your thoughts about which sweet to buy when you had the time to buy them. She asked.

"Why do you eat so much sugar?" Valeria's voice had interupted your train of thought. "Huh? Why? Well, I just like them. They keep me happy."

"But why are they so important?" Valeria was stil confused about your habit. "Well... I like the taste of them. I have a sweet tooth."

Valeria still didn't get why you obsessed and liked them so much. But oh well, it's not a thing she should worry about too much. Well, as long as it doesn't become too much of a habit and a problem to you and her. And maybe doesn't interrupt your relationship with her.... Maybe....

So this is my second ever, and little fanfic? Blog? I think you know what I mean- So if it's really crap, don't come at me pls

SN: did this at 1 in the morning so ignore all grammar mistakes -

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Team force 141 + Valeria w/ reader who has lots of pillows on their bed. E.g. six, seven, eight - just A LOT.

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Simon Ghost Riley:

Ghost was injured. Very injured. So when you all landed back onto base you rushed into the base with Ghost leaning on your shoulder. You knew that your room was closer to where you both currently were, and that you also had a med kit somewhere in your room.

So, that made you rush in the direction of your room instead of the medbay. Now, ghost was disoriented. So disoriented that he didn't seem to know where he was being lead to. He had only noticed where we was when you had plopped him onto your bed. Right on-top of something squishy.

What he had landed on, was a soft pillow. Multiple pillows. They were quite soft, but there were so many. He would have to use two hands to count the amount of pillows.

When you had found the medkit in the corner of your room. You hurried back to where Ghost was sitting. He was bleeding out on your bed. On your pillows. Your abundance of pillows.

So, of course he had to ask about your mountain of pillows. While you were patching him up, of course. He asked you. "Why do you have so many pillows?" It was so sudden you had to take a moment. "Oh, uh. I just.. like them. They give me comfort and I just like them overall."

He just gave you a look that you couldn't decipher. But, expect to see a couple of pillows at your door every now and then.

John Soap Mactavish:

Soap woke up. In your bed. Yes, in your bed. The reason? He drank too much. Way too much. He was so drunk that you had to drag his body from the bar, all the way to base.

Now, his first thought was. Why is my bed so squishy? Obviously his question was immediately answered when he gained consciousness and opened his eyes. The sunlight was attacking him from behind the thin curtains. Soap tried to stop the attack from the sun, but it was no use.

He was already awake and awoke in a room he doesn't know of. He shot up, a wave of nausea hitting him like how the sun had done not long ago.

"Where the hell am I? What the fuck...." Soap groaned. He didn't drink that much....... Did he?- The door opened, quietly. Moving his attention from the wall to the opening door.

He saw, you. Holding a glass of water and a pill bottle. "Oh, I hope I didn't wake you up." You softly spoke. "You didn't, where are we?" Soap asked curiously.

"My room, you were too drunk to be dragged to your own room." Oh. Well, made sense. He did drink a bit too much.... "Why do you uh.. have so many pillows here?" Picking one up Soap asked.

You replied, snatching a pillow from the bed. "Oh! They bring me joy, I like them. Some as presents form my family and friends, some I just bought that were soft or cute."

"This one's cute." Soap says while picking up a small brown dog. "Oh, you can keep it if you'd like, I have too many. Plus, I don't think anyone gave me it, must've been one that I bought a bit ago."

"Sweet! Thanks!" He was quite happy, even thought he had a throbbing headache. At least his hangover wasn't so bad now that he has a soft and squishy buddy with him.

Captain John Price:

John was checking up on everyone late at night after a mission. As some people were injured severely on the mission. So, when he made it to your room. He noticed that there was light peeling out from underneath your door. You know what happened to that cat about curiousity.

So, John bit the bullet and opened the door quietly. Only to find you on your bed, sprawled out like a starfish. Your hair was everywhere. All over the pillow where you head was resting on, and on your face. You were lightly snoring and you had left your bedside lamp on. With the way you were positioned on the bed, your pillows were bunching up and creating small hills.

You looked like you were having the best sleep of your entire life. Sleeping away without a worry about the world and its problems. But, of course. Not all good things last forever. He had to wake you up. You had to change into your pajamas. Price would never forgive you and himself if you slept in your gear.

So, he shook you awake. Lightly, of course. "Hey, you gotta get up." Your response was just a groan and turning to your side.... Back facing him... Price sighed.

"Hey, wakey wakey. You gotta get changed.." This earned another groan from you and you sitting up. "Why'd you wake me up...." You whined.

"You gotta get changed, and why do you have so many pillows?" Price chuckled seeing as you were slightly cuddling a cute cat pillow. You groaned and yawned. Taking your time to answer his question. "I like pillows, they're cute and comfy. Don't you agree?" Holding up a pillow to his face.

Price chuckled. "Yeah yeah, kid. Time to get changed." You groaned once again.

Kyle Gaz Garrick:

You and gaz decided to have a movie night. In your room. So, when he arrived with the snacks. He laid down on your floor and started watching the movie. Paying no attention to anything else but the movie. It was one of his favorite movies after all.

When the movied had ended, Gaz was very sleepy. So sleepy, that he decided he was going to sleep on your bed. In your room. Even though his room was only 3 rooms over. But, oh well. It's late, you're both tired. Why not? Plus, nothing bad would happen.

Yeah. Nothing bad did happen. Except, something embarrassing did. You didn't have the time to put away all your pillows, since you didn't know that Gaz was going to be sleeping in your room. In your bed. So, when he walked over to your bed. All he saw was pillows. A mountain of pillows. On what should be your bed.

"Hey... Uh... Why are there so many pillows here?" Gaz started. "Oh, uh. Yeah.. that's my uh, collection of pillows." You replied. Nervous on how he would react.

"Oh, cool. Which one is your favourite?" Gaz questioned. "Oh, uh. This one is one of my favourites." You replied, holding up a small dog pillow.

"Cute, but why are there so many?..." You hadn't really noticed about how much you had, but now that you were looking at.. Your bed? "Well.. I admit I have a bit too much, but I like all of them."

How embarrassing.... "I'm too tired to deal with this." Gaz needed his beauty sleep. He'd deal with you and your obsession on the morning. Right now, he just wants to catch some z's.

Alejandro Vargas:

Alejandro looked for you all over base. He was bored and needed something to do. You weren't in the dining hall, nor in the medbay. So, he went to your room in hopes to find you.

When he reached your room, he could hear some humming from inside. Alejandro knocked and could hear a muffled 'Come in!' from the other side of the door. He opened the door to see you sitting next to your bed and cuddling a pillow while reading a book whilst some music played in the background.

He noticed that, around you. On the bed, and the ground. Was littered with pillows. All different shapes, sizes, colors, etc. How could someone have so many pillows? Jesus Christ. You had an obsession with so many things. He heard you humming along with the song, not even paying attention to who had opened the door and entered the room.

Alejandro decided to break the silence. "Hey. What are you doing?" All you did was look up from your book and respond with a simple sentence. "Reading, why?" Jesus Christ, you looked totally unfased with how many pillows there were.

"Why do you have so many goddamn pillows?" Alejandro asked. Oh.. You hadn't realized that all of your pillows were laid out on the bed and some had fell onto the floor. "Well, I like them. Some of them were gifts from some people, and some that I had just found." You said, as you grabbed another pillow that had fallen to the floor.

Alejandro hesitated for a moment. "Alright.... Well, would you like to hang out with me?" Well, it would be good for you to go out and stretch your legs rather than sitting on the floor and reading by yourself. "Sure, I don't see why not." You replied while getting up and brushing the non-existent dust from your knees.

Valeria Garza:

Valeria was walking by your room when she noticed you lounging about on your bed. You were cuddling a pillow and the rest of your pillows were surrounding you. There was at least ten. They were colorful, and looked soft. What were you even doing with this amount of pillows?

"What the hell? What are you doing?" Valeria said as she leaned on the door frame. "Huh? Me? Oh, I'm just reading, why?" You were confused on why Valeria was asking you.

"Well, you have so many of these pillows here. Why do you have so many? Did you steal these?" Valeria asked. "I like pillows, they bring me joy, and no. I did not steal these. Some of these are gifts that my friends and family gave me." You huffed out.

Well, you had to admit. You did have a bit more than what an average person would have... But, you couldn't throw out any of them! They were apart of you, and you loved every single one of them. You didn't know why Valeria had such a problem with your obsession with pillows. Was she jealous of them or something?

"Are you jealous of the pillows, or something?" To be sure you asked, duh. "No. I would never be jealous of an inanimate object. That's just stupid!" Well, Valeria was a bit too quick to shut that down..... Ah, oh well.

"But, do you like them? A lot?" Ah, she definitely was jealous of them. Well.. Maybe?- "Yes, I do like them. Quite a lot. If you don't like them you can just leave." You huffed out.

So, with that. Valeria left your room. But, expect to see some pillows to appear on your bed when you go out of your room to go shopping or what not. Or expect a knock on your door, and seeing a pillow on the floor when you open the door. Maybe also seeing Valeria speed walk around the corner.

.. i may or may not have accidentally deleted this-. I deleted the wrong post okay 😭😭

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tf141 + Valeria w/ reader who HATES physical touch but craves it so muchhhh- had trauma from when they were a kid and need the affection they should've received when they were younger, but gets memories from their childhood.

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Simon Ghost Riley:

Ghost was like you too. He had trauma from a young age, due to his abusive father. He too also was traumatized. But he refused to have the need of affection. He's cut off from what makes him happy. He claims he doesn't need it. He doesn't need friendships, especially on the field. But, once he met you and the 141. Things changed. Things always change. You and the task force showed him that.

So, whenever you need a cuddle buddy. Ghost is always available, even if he doesn't want it. He doesn't mind. He'll groan and complain. But as long as it makes you happy and at ease. Then his personal space can be sacrificed for your happiness and peace. He's heard you ramble about your past too. He can't help but feel empathy for you.

Although he did too have it bad, you were younger. He felt bad that he couldn't help you back then. But he knew he couldn't change the past. So he focused on helping you right now, in the present. Even if it changed his reputation a tad bit. He didn't mind.

So, when you had knocked on his door one night. He knew what was up. You needed physical affection. You needed to know that he was here for you. You needed his touch. Something to ground you. Anything, something. He opened the door wider, letting you know you could come in.

You went to go sit on his bed. It was unmade. You knew he was sleeping. You woke him up. "I'm sorry." Was all you said. Ghost sighed. "It's fine, you don't need to apologise for something you can't handle. I know that feeling." Your eyes were filled with tears. You wanted to cry.

Ghost shushed you. "Hey, no. It's ok. C'mere." Ghost laid down on the bed, pulling you to him. Immediately, you grasped onto his shirt. Crying into his shirt you told him. You told him your trauma. What happened to you, when you were a kid. You told him everything. Everything spilled out of your mouth. All he did was rub your back and look up to the ceiling. He let you talk about everything. It helped.

Slowly, you fell asleep. With all you had done in the night. It tired you. Ghost made sure that you would fall asleep before him. Making sure he knew everything. What he could do when you panicked. He let you cry into his shirt. Even if he was uncomfortable, he let you.

John Soap Mactavish:

Soap was always ready to open his arms for a cuddle session. Even if it leads to you falling asleep and having his arm fall asleep. Even if he needs the bathroom, he'll stay with you. For the whole time. But, what he didn't know. Was that you had trauma. From your childhood. He always thought you just didn't like him at the start. Always flinching away from his touch.

So, when you were both alone in a room. Waiting for a briefing to start. He asked you. "Do you hate me?"

Of course that surprised you. He didn't mean to surprise you. But the question was bugging him intensely. He needed to know. If you hated him, that was fine. He just needed to know. Whether to keep distance between the both of you or not.

"No. I don't hate you, why?" Why did he think that? You had no clue. "Well, you always flinch away from me and avoid me.. A lot." Oh. So that was why he thought you hated him.

You sighed. "I have..... memories. From my childhood. Uh, childhood trauma. So, I don't really... like touch. Especially when it's unexpected, sorry." Soap felt horrible. He didn't know. He should've asked you earlier. "Uh, sorry kid. Didn't know you had trauma. I'll, uh. Stop.." Soap trailed off.

You didn't really want for him to stop the physical affection. It made you feel like you were loved. "I.. I don't mind. I just, need a heads up." You didn't mind at all. "You sure? You don't have to feel forced."

This made you feel like you were trapped in a corner. You couldn't say you didn't like him, because you didn't. You couldn't say you hated his touch, you liked it. You couldn't say anything without being backed more into a corner. So, with that. You got up from where you sat and walked over to him. You hugged him. The hug was a bit awkward. But you made it work.

Captain John Price:

You were the youngest member in the 141. So, that ended up having John as your father figure. He treated you like you were blood related and as if he knew you from birth. But, when John had overheard a conversation between you and another about your childhood trauma.

He couldn't help but feel he needed to step up his game. He needed to let you know that you weren't alone. That you didn't need to suffer by yourself from your trauma. John knew what childhood trauma would do to people. It would change them, drastically. He knew that both you and Ghost had trauma.

John wanted to change it. Change your trauma. But he couldn't. No matter how hard he tried. He hated it. So, when one day you knocked on his door during the night. He wasn't really surprised. Price got up from his office chair and opened the door. Looking down at you, he sighed. Moving the door wider, he gave you the signal to come in.

"I know why you're here." Was all he said as he went to light up a cigarette. "You... You knew?" He sighed, taking a drag of his nasty cigarette. Tilting his head slightly back and letting the air become infused with his cigarette.

"Yeah. Well, I don't know what exactly happened. But I can tell. It wasn't on your file, trust me. I just saw you, and knew immediately that you had trauma." Oh. Well, you hoped he was telling the truth that it wasn't on your file. You don't think you've told anyone in detail about what happened.

"You don't need to tell me." He said as he made eye contact with you, taking another drag of his cigarette. Price shuffles around to grab something from the cabinet of his desk. "Here, I have a copy of your file. If you don't believe me. You can check it." Of course you believed him. But you couldn't take any chances.

When he placed down the file you grabbed it. Opening it up, all it said was your height, weight, gender, profile, role, etc. Nothing about your childhood. Nothing about you having trauma. You sighed, thank goodness.

Price interrupted the silence. "If you ever need to talk about it or if you have a nightmare or whatever. Don't hesitate to knock on my door. Even if you wake me up." You looked up at him and smiled. He was like a father. A great one. "Thanks." Was all you said before you got up and left. Closing the door behind you.

Kyle Gaz Garrick:

Gaz is friendly. Very, friendly. So he was always touchy and close by. He didn't know of your trauma. He never noticed how you'd slightly cringe whenever he or someone else got too close or got touchy with you. He was a happy little furball. Everyone enjoyed his personality. You did as well. But, it was just that he always wanted to hug you or pat your shoulder. He liked physical touch, while you. On the other hand, absolutely hated it.

So, when it was just you two. When he was patting your shoulder, you blurted out. "I don't like you touching me." So, of course. Gaz was taken aback and instantly took back his hand and swung his hand to his side. "Oh, sorry." He looked embarrassed when you blurted it out.

"I.. I have trauma, from when I was a child. I don't hate you, it's just.." You trailed off. "Oh. I'm, uh. Sorry. I didn't know." Not many people knew, only a handful of people actually knew why.

"I don't... I don't really mind it, when you tell me.. It's just.. I need to be told when you touch me." Gaz's mouth formed an O. "Oh, yeah no that's fine. I get where you're coming from, it's fine pal." Gaz laughed.

"Thanks." Was all you said before you went to hug him. Gaz let out a surprised noise. He took a moment before laughing and wrapping his arms around you, smiling into your hair.

He really was a happy little furball.

Alejandro Vargas:

Alejandro was oblivious to your trauma. He always had an arm around your shoulder. He didn't know. You always curled into yourself when he slung his arm over your shoulders. You didn't like him doing that. You wanted to tell him that. But how would he react? Would he care? Would he stop? You didn't know. You wanted to know. But, did you?

One day you followed Alejandro. Followed him into an empty room. You had to tell him. Otherwise this would go on for ages. Until you tell him. It's now or never. You needed to tell him.

"Hey.. Uhm, Alejandro. I need to tell you something..." It was sudden, yes. But you couldn't help it. "Hm?" Alejandro hummed out in response.

"Uhm, I'd.. So, you know how you, uhm. Sling your arm around my shoulders?" Better to say it now than later. "Ay, I do."

"I'd rather you, to.. uh.. Not.. do that?- Like, I mean if it's fine with you. I mean, if you say no, I-" Alejandro cut you off. "Sure! I don't mind, do you mind telling me why thought?" Well that was awfully easy.

"Uhm, my childhood wasn't.. really the best.." Alejandro nodded. "Alright then, I'll stop. You don't need to tell me anything else. I don't mind." Quick and easy, alright then.

"Thanks, Alejandro." You say as you go to hug him. All he did was chuckle in response and wrap his arms around you. "On one condition." Oh lord. This most likely won't go very well...

You hesitated and slowly nodded. "You tell me whenever someone gets too close to you or touch you without your permission, deal?" That was unexpected.. "Yeah, deal... Thanks Alejandro.." You say as you bury you face into his shirt smiling to yourself, happy that things went smoothly.

Valeria Garza:

Valeria didn't do phsyical touch. She just didn't. But she did notice how you would flinch away from someone when they got too close or tried to touch you. She never said anything though. If you didn't tell her she just assumed you would deal with it yourself. Plus, she could just be misunderstanding things. Although, Valeria rarely misunderstood things. Ah, but oh well. If you didn't tell her then it's not necessarily her problem.

When you had knocked on her door during one afternoon, she was quite busy. So, when you heard a muffled 'Come in!' from the other side of the door. You opened the wooden door. Valeria looked up from her stack of papers and up to you. Dropping her pencil, she looks up to you. Expecting you to start the conversation first. "Uhm, Valeria. Someone has been, uhm..." You hesitate. Valeria sighs and rubs her temples. "Hurry up and finish you sentence. You're wasting my time." She responds irritated.

"Uh, someone has been.. Touching me, and I don't really.. Like to be touched, uhm." Oh god. This is not going well. "And why don't you like being touched?" Valeria pushed.

"Uhm, my childhood wasn't.... good.." You looked towards the floor, a bit embarrassed. "Name?" Valeria blurts out.

You look up back to her with a questioning look, slighty tilting your head. "Their name. The person who has been bothering you?" Oh, that makes sense. "Uhm, I don't know their name, but they were outside your room.. Uhm, three days ago?" You had no idea, all you knew was that you didn't want them near you again.

"Alright, I'll get to it." She says as she stands up. "Stay in here while I go handle some... business." With that, she leaves. Closing the door and leaving you alone with your thoughts.

For the next couple of weeks, you never saw them. Your guessing they're never seeing you again ever as well.

Whenever you and Valeria were together she always was paying attention to you. Especially when you're around others. When some person touched you on your shoulder, lets just say... You never noticed them hanging around anymore.

Hi, how about a young reader as in like 19 who makes tiktoks and stupid videos around base, maybe she does dances in front of the team in her downtime? Have a good day :))

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My first ever ask aksjsjskssj

Thank you for asking <3 this is a nice idea, I love it!!

Note: sorry that it's so short, my laptop malfunctioned and loses my progress if there's too much text 🙁 and I've been having no motivation</3

{fun fact: reqs are open - please I need ideas}

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Young reader (~19) makes tiktoks and stupid videos around base - does dances in front of the team in their downtime.

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Simon Ghost Riley:

Ghost has no clue on why you were always dancing. When you explained to him that it was from TikTok, he was confused. Very, confused. He's older than you by a lot, so it does explain why he's not 'with the time'.

Whenever you tried to explain what you were doing, he always got lost whenever you tried to get to the third step. He's too old for this, he claims. He'd just end up leaving the room halfway. He just gave up. Ghost can go kill multiple people without problem, he can break into an enemy base without problem. But dancing? Dream on.

After the few times you begged him to dance with your for a TikTok, he caved. But he eventually uncaved when he realised you had been teaching him how to do a TikTok dance for nearly three whole hours.

Which lead him to either, sprinting out the room or swapping places with Soap. It's usually Soap as he needs to distract you, because somehow... You always find him.. Like he's got some sort of tracker.... Hm....

John Soap MacTavish:

Soap tries to keep up with whatever you do, he tries to. He's not very good at it though... A for effort though.

But sometimes, sometimes he does surprise you. Somehow he does a move perfectly, somehow he makes a random move up that looks MUCH better than the original move. You don't know how he does it, but he does.

Soap is... Someone that you can ramble about. So, he's mainly the one you go to when you wanna do a mess around and find out. And definitely getting Price running after you, through the hallways.

Whenever you do a TikTok dance, he tries to copy. Whether failing miserably, and making him look like a flopping fish on land, or making him look like a natural dancer. There's no in-between, ever. You're mainly the in-between.

Captain John Price:

John was no better than Ghost. He was dumbfounded. Why did you always dance? Why were you dancing? And are you filming right now? What is going on? He's very old. Once, you even said he was from the prehistoric ages. He didn't take that very lightly.

Although, with whatever you kept talking about. He started to feel like he was from the prehistoric ages... But, he'd never admit that out loud, never. So, whenever you started doing one of your... TikTok? Dances. He was overall confused, he was always in the background of your TikTok's too.

Whenever you made silly videos that would injure you if not done properly, he felt like he was going to have a heart attack. John looked up at the trees, there you were.. Hanging upside down... John looked behind him, you were there lying face down on the floor. John looked anywhere, there you were.. injured in some way..

So, when you tried to teach him. All went south. If you needed to turn left, he turned right. What do you mean he's doing it wrong? What do you mean he has to do this first? What? Huh? Oh god, he's way too old. Just let him retire already. He's already got countless grey hairs due to you...

Kyle Gaz Garrick:

Gaz was surprisingly up to date with the new generation and their shenanigans. But, he is on the younger side considering the other ages of the team. So, you can't really say you're that surprised...

Although he is 'with the times' he doesn't know how to do anything that's with the times. But he's definitely trying. Well, not hard enough.. Being on the younger age of the team, makes it seem like you two... Are hellhounds.

Always running around, doing something you shouldn't. Somehow breaking a bone, or two... Yes, it's happened. It always ends with Price scolding you two, but as soon as he leaves... Chaos ensues.

Yeah, you two together are chaotic. Whne you two both do a TikTok dance, it definitely seems like you're both trying to summon Satan. Well... Sometimes you guys are. Although you'd never tell Price about it...

Speaking of summoning Satan, Price always complains about things moving to completely random places...... Oh well! Not your fault!

Alejandro Vargas:

Alejandro just laughed. Laughed at whatever idiotic thing you decided to do now. Whatever trick or dance you did, he laughed. To be honest, he had no idea what you were doing. But it was entertaining. The man is completely oblivious that you would film whatever shenanigans you would do.

Whether you're dancing or doing something idiotic, Alejandro is always there. Ready to laugh at you, or ready to patch you up if you injured yourself.

So, of course. That led you to force him to dance with you. Obviously it would be a TikTok dance. You showed him what you needed to do, how you needed to do it, when you needed to do it, where he should be playing his hands or feet, etc.

Overall it was a very difficult operation. He does not listen to your instructions well... When you started recording. Oh boy. Things did not go smoothly. In the end, Alejandro ended up on the floor with a tired and defeated look. You would feel pity for him, if he didn't step on your foot a million times.

{fun fact: reqs are open - please I need ideas}

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TF141 Dancing to classical music with reader!

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Simon Ghost Riley:

Ghost doesn't know how to dance. He says it's not necessary for the battlefield, so why would he ever need to learn it? He always grunted whenever you asked him about his dancing skills.

He'd never want to bruise his ego about not knowing how to dance. So, secretly he learned how to dance. Yes, it was confusing at the start. But it was for you, and Ghost would never say no to you. So he learned.

Any spare time he got, it was occupied. Occupied with him dancing. Sometimes Soap saw him dancing, and took a couple of videos, and photos. Sending all of them to you and the rest of the Team Force. Ghost never found out.

But, when Soap sent you those videos and photos. You could feel your heart melt.

When you thought it was a suitable time to drag Ghost to an empty room and dance. He was ready. Dancing with you like there was no tomorrow. It was captivating. With... Perhaps a few watchers. The watchers being the team force 141... Although you'd never tell Ghost that.

You didn't have a death wish..

John Soap Mactavish:

Soap loved dancing with you. Whether it be to classical music, pop music, etc. He just loved dancing with you, seeing your face and touching you and being oh so close to you.

Ah, he just loved it. Which also meant he was quite smiley and dopey. So, when you first grabbed his hand and lead him to the living room to dance to classical music. He was so, so happy. Maybe even the happiest man on Earth. He loved it.

When you grabbed his hands and placed it on your waist. He was all blushy and happy. Happy that he had an excuse to touch you and be in sync with you. Resting his hands on your lovely waist.

When others see the both of you dancing, it's like it's straight out of movie. Looking oh so passionately in each other's eyes and being in sync. It was so charming.

Soap would always look like a happy man when dancing, especially with you. Dancing like there was no tomorrow..

Captain John Price:

John is old, so that meant he loved dancing to old, classical songs. But he had never brought it up, of course. But when you did bring it up, and randomly dragged him along to a large empty room with music playing in the background. He just couldn't resist.

Grabbing your waist, pulling you close, moving in sync. Ah, it was all he ever dreamed of. It would forever be engraved onto his mind, he'd want to dance with you for eternity. Staring into your eyes with love and passion. It was perfect.

When others did pass by due to the music and the open door, they were in awe. Seeing the both of you so passionate and loving. Seeing you both dancing like flowers in the wind, it was so beautiful they would tear up.

Even though he loves dancing to classical music, he loves you more. And he always reminds you that when you both dance. Kissing you on the cheek, and on the lips. Then pulling back and staring into those pretty eyes of yours.

A thought of his whenever you both dance is, 'Is this heaven?'

Kyle Gaz Garrick:

Gaz is also a nervous bunch. He doesn't know where to place his hands, how to dance - especially to classical music. So, when you brought it up one day. He has no clue on what you were saying. When the conversation did end, though.

He practically sprinted out the room and to Price's office. Asking him how to dance, and what to do when you both did dance.

Of course, Price laughed. But he did help him. Examples being, where to place his feet, where he should put his hands, and most importantly. How he should act.

When the day did come where you dragged him to an empty space, with music playing. He was a bit nervous. But, he did exactly what Price told him. When Gaz got into he rhythm though, oh lord did you want to marry him.

He was so focused on making the right moves, he forgot that you were still there. Dancing with him, and when he snapped out of the trance.

Oh, what God's blessed him with you? You were like a God. With such beauty, he thought he was hallucinating. That was, until you softly laughed.

And all over again, he fell head over heels for you..

Alejandro Vargas:

Alejandro was a semi-decent dancer. He was around the middle of flopping around like a fish and dancing like a flower in the wind. Sometimes, he was both. At the same time. It always made you laugh.

When you popped the question: 'Do you know how to dance?' He was immediately interested in what you had to say. I mean, he never really danced to classical music often. Well, he never really danced overall..

But after you asked him that. He may or may not have taken a few dancing classes.... and research on classical dancing.... But he would never admit that, not with his ego. Well maybe if you softened him up a little..

But, when you both danced. Inside an empty hall, music playing, the sun illuminating the room... It was perfect. Whenever you were facing towards the windows, with the light in your face. Oh my, did Alejandro want to take a picture.

But when it was his turn. Oh his eyes. His eyes were like a drug you were addicted to. You always stared deeply into his eyes. Both you and Alejandro wonder, what God had created you. How could someone be so beautiful?

→ ⋆୨୧ ;; 𝐘 𝐎 𝐔 𝐀 𝐑 𝐄 𝐔 𝐍 𝐅 𝐈 𝐗 𝐀 𝐁 𝐋 𝐄

→ ⋆୨୧ ;; when he calls, he doesn’t call for her, he calls for you.

→ ⋆🩰 ;; cheater!phillip , phillip cheating on reader but thinks sex can make up for it , NEVER GET WITH A CHEATIN’ MAN ! ! , c^nnulingus , lana’s shades of cool is perfect for this.

he didn’t even try to cover the lipstick mark on his neck. it was there, waving hello to you. it was also reminding you that you needed to leave him. that you didn’t need to put up with him anymore.

“thought you’d be asleep, darlin’.” he walks over to you. “c’mere.” he leans in to kiss you, but your hands raises to push him away from you. you couldn’t even look him in the eyes. if you did, you’d forget about leaving him.

“sweetheart, she doesn’t mean anything.” he lies. “if she doesn’t, then why do you keep going to her?” you counter. he knew you were right. if she didn’t mean anything to him, why go back?

“i come home to you everyday, right? why does anything else matter?” he leans in closer, “look at me.” you shake your head, “sweetheart, look at me.”

when you shook your head again, he got frustrated. “just look at me!” he takes your jaw and forces your eyes to meet his.

“look, i don’t love her. i love you. and only you.” he pulls you into a kiss. “fuck her, she’s not my wife.” his hands caress your waist. “you’re my wife.” he says between kisses. “come on, baby. say you love me.”

the moment you looked into his eyes, every thought you had was thrown out. his charming smirk, his vague country accent. it was all too much for you. that’s why you fell in love with him.

you melt as his thumb rubs on the apple of your cheek. “that’s ma girl.” he smirks in the kiss.

his arms circle around your thighs, taking you to your shared bedroom. “don’t ever leave me.” he rolls your bottoms off of you. “ever.” you couldn’t say you wouldn’t because you knew deep down that you would. you needed to.

he rests your bare legs on his shoulders, looking down at you. “i love you, baby.” he kisses from your ankle down to your inner thigh. “i love you so much.” the top of his tongue drags on the mound of your cunt. you squirm at his teasing actions.

his lips wrap around your bud. “fuck.” you silently whimper. your thighs squeeze around his head, making him laugh. “i’m the only one that can make you feel this way, darlin’.” he licks a stripe between his slit.

you clenched around nothing. phillip noticed. “you want somethin’?” he chuckles. you nod. he sticks his finger in you, thrusting as he continued to lick you up. your eyes rolls back as the band in your stomach began to tear. “you close, sweetheart?” he teases. his tongue flicks at your clit, getting you closer.

the band finally ripped. your juices sprayed out, damping his face and the sheets below you. he pulled back, his lower face glistening.

“don’t leave my sweetheart. please. i can be better.” but you knew those were meaningless words. he couldn’t be fixed. he was just…graves.

image one | image two | image three

AHHHHHHHHGGGG just thinking about toxic fwb!simon who treats you, one of his sergeants, like nothing but his stupid little barracks bunny. he can’t help but want to constantly push his fat fuckin cock into you from behind, whether it be in your bed, in the alley of some pub, or in the bathroom during morning drills. it’s never in his bed because he knows you’ll want to stay; it’s easier if he’s able to just get up and leave. it’s always from behind because he doesn’t want to look at your face. miss him with that romance shit.

you just kinda deal with it. he fucks you good, right? it totally doesn’t hurt your feelings. it totally doesn’t suck that you’ve been infatuated with him since the moment you met. you totally didn’t fall for the way he gives orders, the way he’s so dedicated to keeping the team safe and on task. you totally didn’t have feelings for him, and you’re totally not only letting him use you because it’s better than him treating you like you’re invisible. it’s… fine????

yeah, it’s fine because it’s soap who sees your sad face one night after you and simon return from outside. simon immediately sits back down for another drink, meanwhile, you struggle to walk back to your own seat. you’re clearly worn out and your face is a bit sullen. it’s not like nobody knew what was going on. you and ghost weren’t exactly subtle, but soap didn’t think it was right for you to look so sad after getting your brains fucked out. it just didn’t make any sense.

that’s why he starts showing up outside of your door instead of simon. he tells you he just can’t sleep, and he needs a friend. he just so happens to show up just five minutes before ghost does every single night.

that’s why whenever simon gives you that look while you’re all out at the pub, johnny pulls you over and asks you to dance with him. that’s why he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear as you both look at each other with a tipsy gaze. he leans in and smiles at you before whispering, “you’re beautiful, lass. you deserve the world.” that’s why he kisses you, and he takes you home.

he doesn’t fuck you. not that night. instead, he throws on a movie, and he holds you until you fall asleep. the next morning, he takes you out for breakfast, and the next week, he’s got you in his lap, and he tells the team that you’re “his girl,” planting a sloppy kiss to your cheek.

and all simon can do is watch as jealousy and regret bubble in his stomach and threaten to spill from his mouth in the form of bile.

but he swallows it back, and he just watches as you start ignoring his looks, his 3AM text messages, and knocks on your door. instead, you opt for nights in johnny’s bed with sweet kisses and missionary and mating presses as he looks at your face, presses his lips against yours, and tells you how beautiful you are. he lets you - no, he begs you to stay the night with him.

and all simon can do is watch.

(more here)

a/n: sorry i just needed to get this out of my brain.

another price lookalike porn link unlocked

18+ no minors or ageless blogs, afab reader, daddy kink, oral f receiving. the race of the girl in the vid isn’t indicative of anything written below, i only linked it bc the guy in the vid looks like price. everything written below is race and (i believe) body inclusive. (this was done in like 3 mins so 😅)

just imagine him holding you down with his big hairy arms while he laps up your juices. his hands digging into your plush skin. his beard scratching your sensitive mound as his tongue flattens along your folds, before dipping into your cunt. humming a pleased rumble against your pussy, damn near a growl.

you struggle to look at him as he peers up at you, his eyes drinking in your writhing form with all the ferocity and hunger of a lion devouring its prey.

“sweet little pussy. daddies pretty cunt.” he all but growls into you. “y’hear me? this pussy is mine. these sweet juices are mine.”

he’s practically making out with your cunt, kissing it so passionately and slowly like he would always kiss you. the wet sounds he makes between your thighs makes you gasp even more, more than you already were. he was lapping up any trace of you that he could get, eating you out like a man starved.

“who gets this pussy wet, hm?” he asks, as if you could even answer coherently with his tongue fucking you. “s’ it simon? or kyle? maybe johnny?”

denials sit on your tongue as you feel the warm coil in your stomach tighten. you shake your head desperately. no. no. it could never be them. it could never be anyone but you. you want to say, but the words don’t come out. you’re too busy moaning and mewling to say anything he could make out.

“or is it this wet for daddy? hm?”

all you can do is nod, nod so fast you fear you might get whiplash. always for him, only ever for daddy.

he laughs against your cunt, his tongue dipping back inside your pussy.

“mmm, that’s it.” he hums against you, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucks before humming again.

your hands shake and your head falls back for a moment, before you look at him again. his beard is all soaked and shiny in your slick and his hands moved to grip your wrists, holding them steady.

he grins against you as he feels your legs shake. he flicks his tongue against your clit before sucking the swollen bundle of nerves into his mouth.

“come on, give it to me. come for daddy. now.”

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