Caution Observer! You are now navigating 'The COD Files', the unusual may be ahead. . .
» ʙʟᴏɢ ʙɪᴏ:
» ɪɴᴛʀᴏᴅᴜᴄɪɴɢ: ᴍᴏᴅ ᴋᴀᴍɪ
Hello! You are free to call me 'Kami', I use she/her/hers pronouns and am 20+. I write mostly for fun and as a hobby. König & Horror Enthusiast. Allegedly likes men in uniform. Besides my love of horror themes and aesthetics, I consider myself a friendly person. Feel free to request or ask me anything that's on your mind ♡
» ᴡʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʙʟᴏɢ?
This is a writing blog (of sorts?) I write mainly fanfiction and things that make me—and you guys—happy!
I like to stick to my own ideas, working mostly on oneshots for Call of Duty mainly with a mix of fluffy sappy themes to the strange and cryptid. Try checking it out!
» ʙʟᴏɢ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ & ʀᴜʟᴇꜱ:
Accept The Rules: Disclaimer, I take requests when they are open & generally love doing them! However, I am not obligated to write your request, especially if it does not follow the rules I have set. Apologies ♡
» ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ:
Price. Gaz. Soap. Ghost. Laswell. Graves. Alejandro. Rudy. König. Horangi. Grigori Weaver. Stone. Farah. Alex Keller. Nikto. Krueger. Roach. Keegan. Valeria.
[Don't see a character you like? Ask anyway!]
» ʀᴇᴄᴏʀᴅᴇᴅ:
I like my writing to include everyone! So by default, I like writing gender neutral readers or 'no use of y/n'. Of course though, I am open to writing anything you request. Fem or Male readers or any pronouns you'd like, especially when it comes to described readers or smut scenarios.
Also keep in mind I write smut, I'm just new to it!
Lastly, if you like one of my works that doesn't feel like it fits you (i.e. describing a fem!reader or vice versa) feel free to ask me to rewrite a version for your pronouns!
Here is a quick list of things I write and accept as requests:
nsfw, sfw, oneshots, headcanons, horror, yandere, gore/death, fluff, angst, domestic fluff, fem x fem, male x male (etc), poly/love triangle (they are different to me lol), songfics (or lyric requests) au, platonic/romantic, comfort, described readers (no original characters)
» ʀᴇᴅᴀᴄᴛᴇᴅ:
I don't write intensely dark fics, especially surrounding nsfw/smut content like non-con. I don't write exclusively character x character, and I don't write for oc's.
» ᴜɴꜱᴜʀᴇ? ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʙᴇ!
Feel free to ask anyway if you're unsure! I won't bite you! Here are some examples of requests! Like I said, I allow most things, so ask!
Yes to: "Could you write for (char) reacting to a male!reader with long hair?" "Could I request poly (char) x (char) x gn!reader?" "Reactions to a reader who loves cuddling?" "Platonic headcanons with (char)?"
No to: "Can you write a fic with reader who's name is ---- and is ---- with (char)?" "Can I request a reaction to my oc who's name is ----?" "Char x char smut?"
» ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ:
ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴜᴛʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ
ᴋᴀᴍɪ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛɴᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴄʀɪᴍᴇ: ʟᴀᴅʏ-ʙᴏᴋᴇᴛᴛᴏ
ᴊᴀɴɪᴛᴏʀ ᴀɪ ʙᴏᴛꜱ || I also write/create Call of Duty bots on Janitor Ai, feel free to check them out or ask me about them here on my blog! I take bot requests here too!
#♰ kami speaks || mostly off-topic ramblings I post
» ᴄʀᴇᴅɪᴛꜱ! I use @cafekitsune's 'mdni' banners and text splitters!
ᴘʀɪᴄᴇ has been the lord commander of the kingsguard since your father had entrusted him all those years ago. its his duty to protect the throne, and you especially
he doesn't often directly question your judgement (ESPECIALLY in public or in front of an audience) but does pull you aside to voice his concerns when he needs to
(I also think ᴘʀɪᴄᴇ would have better training than most. Either from his own house and/or taught by a master-at-arms) he always knew he'd be a knight.
ᴘʀɪᴄᴇ being the one to knight ɢᴀᴢ, who—for a short time—was his squire.
(kill me bc its so cute to think ab) ɢᴀᴢ likes to speak his mind when he perceives someone to be a threat in any way. Always the first one to step forward when some noble tries to disguise a threat under pretty words and a sharp tongue.
ꜱᴏᴀᴘ is the son of a lower house and squired for too many years without real promise of becoming an actual knight.
He is highly skilled in shooting and swordsmanship, even brutal on the battlefield, and eventually made a name for himself by himself. Enough that ᴘʀɪᴄᴇ agreed to let him join their ranks.
ɢʜᴏꜱᴛ being a guard who came out of nowhere. no house, no name, no titles. just showed up to a tourney to prove he was worth carrying the burden of protecting you too.
ɢʜᴏꜱᴛ doesn't like being called 'ser' or any of 'that fancy bullshit'
ɢʜᴏꜱᴛ is a knight who never takes his helmet off. And while seeming to be almost threatening in the eyes of the court... is as loyal as they come, and has taken his oath to protect you without hesitation.
ꜰᴀʀᴀʜ (imo) wouldn't join the kingsguard SOLELY because 'its her duty'.
'its honorable to protect the crown' is a noble sentiment, yes, but she would only fight & devote her life to someone worthy in her eyes. I.e. you and you alone.
ᴀʟᴇx (before) was just another son of a high noble house. Aimless and unsure why he held his sword in the first place, until he met farah. He eventually agrees with her and decided you were worth swearing his blade to. He hasn't looked back since.
To him, you are worth dying for, and more importantly, worth living for.
ᴀʟᴇᴊᴀɴᴅʀᴏ (like price) was trained by a master-at-arms and is exceptionally skilled in combat. He's also tactically brilliant, and like farah, has more 'hands-on' experience in battle than most.
he teaches ʀᴜᴅʏ this, as their houses were close & were practically raised like brothers.
ᴋɪɴɢꜱɢᴜᴀʀᴅ 141! watching over you in shifts. Its common for Ghost, Farah & Alex to take the longest stands stood outside your chamber doors. Sometimes even skipping sleep.
ᴋɪɴɢꜱɢᴜᴀʀᴅ 141! keeping guard whilst you're in the throne room, a strong line of knights with their swords ready. Or keeping a loose circle and glancing at you every so often when you're in the garden. Or riding alongside of you during your lessons. Or accompanying you on your hunts outside of the keep.
Always working together under price's commands. Vigilant eyes watching the surroundings... and occasionally staring at you.
All of them swearing the oath to serve & protect you.
ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴄᴀʀᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴀʀᴍᴏʀ :
price, gaz, soap, and rudy take care of their own armor. getting it repaired when they need to and cleaning it often. they're proud to wear it, so its condition needs to reflect that.
(speaking of which soap & ghost don't really care for the cloak)
ghost & farah don't care much. armor is armor, if they need new ones, they'll get it replaced when its too worn. (these goobers also like how 'lived-in' theirs gets. the dents and scratches proof of their service)
tell me why i think alejandro and alex would get someone else to clean their armor for them.
ʏᴏᴜʀ ɴᴀᴍᴇᴅᴀʏ ᴛᴏᴜʀɴᴇʏ :
the ones who would join the jousts: gaz, soap, ghost, alex
(these boys love their jousts & won't be found just watching)
soap & alex showing off and basking in the cheers
each of them riding up to where you sit in the stands, holding up their lance, and hoping to receive your favor before the match.
(ghost especially) since you're pretty much the only noble he thinks would give him their favor anyway.
if they're fighting in your nameday (& for that praise-worthy toast from you after they win) they are going to fight like hell for it. trust me.
the ones who would watch the jousts: price, farah, alejandro, rudy
farah watches mostly because she wants to stay by your side... and doesn't see much point in 'needless' fighting. she does laugh though at the others though.
(and also if she were to fight-lets be honest-she'd win and be absolutely covered in dirt and mud)
price & alejandro like to watch the others and comment on the techniques they use. watching the sport for the love of the sport.
price also not wanting to get a concussion for strictly entertainment purposes. "let the others get the 'glory'" mindset.
alejandro & rudy always watch together, and alejandro points out both the flaws and techniques worth using. them betting against each other who will win.
» ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ : mentions of weapons/guns, fluff, slight angst/worry, forced(?) proximity, suggestive/nsfw
» ᴀ/ɴ : quick! first thing that comes to mind -the prompt
Nikolai is always acquiring things. weapons, vehicles, helos, intel, less than 'favourable' materials... its his job. he's good at it and made a life around the fact.
what he doesn't expect is his newest pickup: a mechanic.
not that it's surprising to have new help in his arsenal of contacts-no-what he doesn't expect is the bright, bubbly smile that comes with the screwdriver constantly in your hands.
forced proximity! (as in he hired you to help him out & he's only just now realized he's done this to himself)
The constant yapping and questions tires him out after a few days. He's not used to someone being so openly happy, considering his line of work and his usual company.
its a good change of pace tho, especially for him
loving the idea of Nikolai scolding you for the messes you seem to spawn in:
He comes back to the hotel room and damn near trips over his own two feet trying to get in; A perfectly disassembled rifle strewn about the carpet like a macabre Picasso. "What the fuck is all of this?!"
cue exasperated old man
Though, he also can't complain about your results.
You're a fucking genius with everything you touch. A priceless asset to him.
Any gun he hands you is like giving a kid candy, or a puppy a treat. All starry-eyed and overeager to understand its internal mechanisms or fire it off yourself just to witness its power firsthand.
had to snatch a weapon with a grenade launcher attachment straight out of your hands.
you'll be the death of him
internally, he's always thankful to have you around.
Nikolai not having to ask you anything because you've already done it beforehand:
you're always making sure everything is in perfect shape, keeping the vehicles' gassed up, that clinking sound the engine had been making is now a smooth rumble... He's... actually proud to hear that you've taken care of his helo ahead of time...
doesn't like being called 'Niko' or 'boss' or 'sir' any goofy name you come up with for him. It's: Nikolai.
(Upon meeting Price & Gaz) you realize Nikolai's never mentioned you to them
Which is confusing, given the time you've basically become his second hand. Carrying weapons crates for him, driving shipments he needs for Price and Farah to safehouses, fixing up his radio for him without asking. ALWAYS chatting up his ear with that same damning smile, even if he refuses to answer your deeply personal ones. And for the past few months, sleeping in the same cramped hotel rooms.
Not important to mention it seems.
(What he doesn't tell you, or anyone for that matter) Is that its an unconscious habit of his. He pretends not mentioning you is just a causal 'slip-of-the-mind in order to keep you safe.
Has come to love the way your eyes light up when he mentions getting his hands on new technology. He doesn't get to gush over new 'toys' with just anyone, so its nice to finally see someone else excited too.
Nikolai (once he likes you) tossing you the keys with a smile. "Don't start," he warns before chuckling at your obvious enthusiasm. "-just drive before I change my mind."
Nikolai trying to show you how to fly the helo with you in his lap (i think he'd be greedy or even teasing and pull your back right up against his chest) "What, мое солнышко (my sunshine)? This is how it works, I assure you."
Nikolai seeing you all sweaty and concentrated over the open hood of the car, watching the way your ass and thighs move when you bend over... He loves to torture himself by following the curve of your spine from your shoulder blades downward.
having someone so bubbly and good at their job and so uncharacteristically close to him... occasionally has his blood running hotter than it needs to be.
⤷ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ : "When I met him, I tried to kill him" & "It was love at first sight"
» ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ : gn!reader x nikto, könig mentioned
» ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ : (slight) masochism?, swearing, mentions of hurt/blood, love at first right-hook?, enemies to lovers, there's plot for a drabble (i know no other way)
» ᴀ/ɴ : just-had a ton of ideas that i had to squish into one. for short: reader! fucking decks this man so hard he falls in love-
The 'plan' had gone to shit days ago. The team scattered in the rainy mountains like chaff in the wind. Its members untraceable, and the 'safe'-house just another threadbare lifeline.
He remembered the flames like it was a moment ago. The smoke still thick on his tongue, filled with metal and the shouts of men who fled between the rain-slick trees. Bullets cracking through the air like lightning.
KorTac's mission all but disintegrating between its corporate fingers. A skirmish gone everyway wrong.
One that resulted in men on either side skittering through the very forest he now navigated... alone.
A blink and he was here, trudging miserably through the icy gales toward 'plan-fucking-z': A safehouse buried in the slopes (if you could even call it that).
That fucking Colonel will hear what we have to say. God forbid he survived. "He is too stubborn to die- ублюдок (bastard)," the curse spat freely from his lips, answering his own thoughts before he could think better of it. The rain was reminding him to share those choice words with the miserable masked-
Nikto's form was thinly cloaked with an aura of fury. Pushing on by sheer determination to live this one through; if only to tell the Colonel exactly what he thought of this 'plan'.
The whole team had been told. 'If we are split up, we meet here' a gloved hand pointing into a map of endless wilds towards a small outpost.
The location wasn't exactly 'run' by KorTac either. The people who had the facility under control hadn't exactly been on friendly terms with the PMC in recent years. So in truth, who was to say he (or any surviving members of his team) wouldn't meet the other end of a gun when he found it?
Shoddy, but currently his only choice.
With nothing to do but sigh and plod through the dreary mountains, he kept walking westward.
The heavy gun clattered against his back with every movement, the thick mud threatening to suck down his boots with every step, and the cruel rain seemed to stop at nothing. Pelting his shoulders and whipping against his faceplate. The sound of his hard breath echoing off his mask the only noise to accompany him.
The worst of all of this was the silence.
Nothing but the white noise of rain striking moss covered earth. The trickling streams veining through the roots of old trees. The huff of his breath. The voices. The thoughts. The ones that always droned on like a hum in his ears.
The voices in his head that whispered behind his ears like a mantra of paranoia. A channel he could never quite turn off, especially now.
Just when the sound of his breath started dwindling, growing smaller and farther away to his eyes... as if he was listening to someone else. He blinked, his determined gait slowing to a stop as movement caught his attention. Sucked back into the moment just in time to watch a craggy rock tumble by the toe of his boot, a fresh wave of mud and gravel following the leader.
Were the rocks sliding?
Was the rain getting that bad?
He turned his head to the right, rain dripping off his chin to follow the small mudslides path up the mountain...
Instantaneously, a breath tore through his lungs, eyes shooting open as a blur jumped from his peripherals. A half second—less—that he realized his mistake. Ignorance of his surroundings proving fatal.
Before he could truly react, Nikto's head snapped violently to the left from the impact, the muscles in his neck the only thing from stopping his skull from spinning around completely.
"блять!" His back met the wet earth with a sickening thud. A groan tearing at his throat as the world suddenly disappeared out from under his feet. Rain and droplets of sludge glittering across his slack body without remorse.
You had punched him.
A heavy boot landed on his chest plate then, keeping him pinned down onto his gun.
"Что за хуйня?" his voice came out slurred and dazed. Those bleary, haunted eyes rolling and struggling to focus on the form poised above him.
We are dead, a voice whispered behind the shell of his ear, staring down the barrel of a gun. Its metal tip brushing against his nose like the butterflies kiss.
"Ŵ̵̬h̶̗͛ŏ̴̙ ̵̯̏a̶̪̿r̶̢͊e̶̤͗ ̶̢͛y̶̹̏ỏ̸͎u̶̯͗?̷̡̚" The voice demanded through the static and rain.
The welt against his jaw went from a buzzing warmth to a searing burn. The heat scalding outwards and dipping into his veins. Adrenaline, it had to be, right? The feeling ebbing and quick, burning him up from the center until he squirmed under your sole.
The world narrowed into a pinpoint. His wide eyes engraving this moment into his head for reasons unknown to him. Another scar that wouldn't show—not in the way that mattered.
Your face. The blooming agony that was so surprising it had his bones filled with lead and chest clear; as if he had taken his first breath, or had it stolen...
The sound of his heartbeat drowned out the voices in his head, and a new warmth began spreading across his body. Fingertips suddenly numb as he stared up at you, at a complete and utter loss.
What... What is happening to us?
"S̶t̷o̴p̴!̷ ̸D̸r̵o̴p̶ ̸y̶o̴u̷r̴ ̸w̸e̶a̴p̵o̷n̴!̵"
A tick, and the rainy shadow looming above him turned into two.
"Nikto? Nikto! um Gottes willen..."
The familiar masked man came into view, replacing your face with his, and you allowed him. Realizing this was one of König's men and not an enemy.
Still stunned, König grabbed Nikto by the front of his vest and pulled up upright in the mud. The words didn't matter at this point. Not when König turned to glance over his shoulder at you to say something. To clarify maybe. All he could hear was the sound of the rain pattering against the outer shell of his mask, and feel the blood rushing from his heart to his bruised skin.
Then, König said your name.
Nikto's heart quickened, a catching breath that caught König's concerned attention.
"Mein Freund, are you alright?" he asked, snapping his fingers to get the Russian to focus his glassy eyes. How hard had you hit him? Once again, the Colonel turned his attention over his shoulder towards you. All the while Nikto sat in the mud holding his jaw with a new thoughtfulness, masked lips tracing the syllables of your name quietly.
» ᴋᴇʏ :
(disclaimer: I don't speak Russian so these might not be insanely accurate but-!)
ублюдок = pronounced like "ublyudok"
блять = pronounced like "blyat" = means "wh*re" but is also used like english 'fuck' or 'damn'
Что за хуйня? = pronounced like "Chto za khuynya?" = means (ish) "wtf" or "wth"
um Gottes willen = means ' for god's sake'
» ᴀ/ɴ: WHAT'S A KODKOD?! (googled it and can confirm its just a little guy ♡ ) & srry for the wait! love ya!
» ᴋᴀᴍɪ! ᴡʜʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴜʟᴛ? goodness gracious, just the absolute thoughtless love you give to everyone... I think Price would adore someone like you while also seeing the 'flaw' in it. While you give to everyone else, he steps up to be your person too. your pairing is *chef KISS*!
» ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ :
Loving the idea of you and Price falling in love. The exchanged looks, the quiet stares, the way he tries to gently laugh off his feelings and look down. hoping (and failing) to have the brim of his hat hide his face.
+ price having the cutest blush that spread up from his nose to his ears. ++ the way he splutters his words sometimes when you're around and until he just decides its better for him to shut up
He might not say what he feels straight-up, but it definitely shows. Price is always looking out for your well-being, and protecting you both physically & emotionally. Like: standing by your side/behind you & checking in on your day. I.e. "How was your day?" "Need anything, love?"
Price loves your nickname, and calls you by it often. Usually referring to you as 'his peach' / 'my peach', or 'peaches'
Honestly, you'd just be the light of Price's life. His ray of sunshine, his love, "His better half"... you get the idea!
losing things? not anymore. Price likes to watch you look around for a few seconds before he tells you exactly where he put it for you/saw it last. "ah, the keys are on the table", "I wrapped your charger up and put it by the bed", and just casually handing you your wallet before you go out.
(he knows your not confrontational) but there's something satisfying about watching you stand up for yourself. puts a proud smile on his face anyway.
petnames/words of affirmation are price's kryptonite. i'm telling you, the moment he hears your voice and the soft accent in your words calling for him... donezo. He's not above just falling to his knees and doing whatever you ask of him.
Price is also physically affectionate, so he ADORES your hands on him! (example) whenever you think you're being 'too much' (absolutely not around here, hello?), he likes to stick your hands back on him like velcro! Price also likes feeling your skin under his fingertips, specifically: rubbing your back or feeling your waist.
And consider: its real easy for him to just pick you up and carry you wherever he wants. He will do it in public too, or when you're both hiking together. It makes him buzz with pure adoration for the woman in his arms... especially when you laugh or get surprised.
Price loves kids, and although he thinks its a big secret… its so painfully obvious he's got a soft spot for them. Not to mention he'd be the best to bring home to the family. Instantly comfortable around them and open, proud to be yours and always next to you with a smile. Interacting with your family as if he'd always been a part of it. (he'd try his damndest to make a good impression)
(when Price notices you staring off) he likes to lace his fingers between yours. nothing said, just rubbing his thumb against your palm to let you know he's there for you.
Price isn't new to travelling, but with you in his life, he now has a reason to love it. He'll follow you anywhere. Even plan a trip for just the two of you. And (always the prepared guy) he makes sure you both have everything packed before you leave.
You being accident prone & clumsy is just another reason to love you. The small bruises he sees from you bumping into things makes him sigh with love and exasperation. "table bullying you again, love?"
(??) Price doing that thing where he massages your palms. Usually without him thinking much of it. he just likes feeling your hands in his. it also gives him a moment to glance at your tattoo and rub lotion on it too.
» ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇ :
(hikes/travelling with you) he treasures those moments with you more than he could ever say. when you two are following trails, he likes to take pictures on his phone: you walking ahead of him, the view, and even a picture you insisted you both be in. Your arms thrown over his shoulders, cheek to cheek and smiling... He's got that one forever tucked under the brim of his hat. His side folded down so that he can look at it and smile at you. just you. imagining the next moment he can run his hands through your hair and kiss you again.
» ᴀ/ɴ: My initial thoughts for your matchup turned out to be the best imo lol, hope you like your results!
» ᴋᴀᴍɪ! ᴡʜʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴜʟᴛ? Out of everyone in the matchup pool I think Alejandro matches you best, from what you want in a partner & who (I think) could understand & respects your needs completely ♡
» ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ :
While I think Alejandro is naturally charming and could go two ways about love, he also values the way you approach a relationship. Alejandro isn't lustful-he's passionate.
he feels for you strongly, and won't let that fact change how much he values your relationship.
If you want to be friends, he's your ride or die, he would never try to push you for more. Not unless you asked him to or wanted to give him a chance. He'd be content to the day he died to be in your life in any way.
He's straightforward; would tell you straight to your face (and with a little bashful grin) that you are priceless to him. You listen to your head first ("good instincts") and you make him really laugh, he loves that of you regardless.
Not to mention he could listen to you for hours when you open up to him. Always just sitting there with an grin on his face, a laugh saved, and a retort that only perpetuates the yap session.
(when you're trying to look for flaws in him/decide how you feel) he finds it amusing & it makes him chuckle. happy you're staring or thinking about him, at least. waits for your judgement with a smile.
He adores the domestic moments he spends with you. Laying on the bed, you wrapped in his arms and watching a movie you'd picked out. It heals a piece of him each time. Reminds him he has someone to come back to... worth fighting and waking up everyday for.
He loves the comedy movies; and funnily enough, jumps slightly whenever you both decide to watch a horror movie. He always laughs to himself when its over and breathes out a half-joking-half-truth "I'm not leaving your side tonight... de ninguna manera (no way)"
Alejandro doesn't try to be in your space when he knows you need it/prefer to be on your own. He doesn't mind and is fully content to occupy himself until you come up and give him a hug again.
(when days get tough for you and emotions are high) he knows you well; well enough to know that what you say isn't really what you think/who you are. He doesn't take it to heart.
Always ready for hugs and cuddles when you need it afterward. No need to even move "mi corazón" (my heart), he's got you.
he likes glimpsing at your desk when he can. All the little written notes of your thoughts to remember later, and the drawings you make... it gives him a little smile before he walks off.
Alejandro is definitely an acts of service guy, as well as physical touch. likes to check in and ask if you need anything. brings your favourite drink anyway when he does.
(His favourite way to kiss you) Alejandro LOVES kissing your face and neck. Anything to elicit a flustered reaction from you. He'll hug you from behind and lean down to smother the side of your neck until you're either laughing or trying to wiggle out of his arms.
+ kissing the top of your head. gives him a moment to appreciate your hair and the new colors you pick.
» ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇ :
The warmest memories he has happen after work. When he comes home from a long day of leading the Los Vaqueros, tosses his keys to the side, and walks into the kitchen where you are. The warmth of the oven, the smell of bubbling sugar and flour... and more importantly, you. Dancing to your music. The memory sticks to him like your confections on their parchment paper. Sweet, and sheds everything from his shoulders in one fell swoop until he's just a man who asks you to dance too. "What are you cooking, mi vida?"
⤷ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ : they see you without your mask for the first time, and the scars that lay underneath
» ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ : gn!masked!reader, rudy, soap, price
» ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ : mentions of scars/hurt/facial scarring & marks (reader), hurt/comfort, angst, possibly used one (1) gendered term but its (meant to be) genderless
» ᴀ/ɴ : boke and I put our heads together to come up with this idea. it slays me, fic when. you could also read this char x char if you squint.
⑉ ʀᴏᴅᴏʟꜰᴏ "ʀᴜᴅʏ" ᴘᴀʀʀᴀ
rudy has never actually imagined you without a mask.
never thought twice about who could be hiding under it or what features could lay below the expressionless plate you showed the world.
when he imagines you in his head, its just you, mask all the same. the same person he's shared laughs with. the same person he's hesitated around at first... more than a little intimidated by the sight.
so when he comes in to save you-the mask discarded on the floor like trash, and you sitting there unable to retrieve it... its a shock.
he can see the way your eyes meet his-familiar and brand new all at once-and with the evidence strung out in front of him-he knows who he's looking at for the first time.
the rivets of marred skin long healed over, winding like a river over your features in a way he'd never expected.
He only stares for a second before remembering himself.
"Let's get you out of there, mi amigo."
after saving you, he watches wearily as you slide the mask back over your head. It's still hard for him to reconcile the two versions of you he's seen. how the person he had seen a moment ago, bare-faced, is the same one he's known all this time.
Mostly because he's just curious, disappointed even to see you slip the piece back over your head.
he'd like another look one day.
⑉ ᴊᴏʜɴ "ꜱᴏᴀᴘ" ᴍᴀᴄᴛᴀᴠɪꜱʜ
Soap's always joked about what might be under that mask of yours. Not-so-good-looking as he imagined? Worse? Or even better? Who's to say?... even if a small part of him wants to know.
wishes he could be trusted with the sight even.
doesn't push about anything besides that rare round of banter and teasing.
the day he sees you maskless, is... not ideal.
water rushes in on all sides of you both, and he gets a peek. The way you gasp for air, masked pulled up over your lips in a ploy not to choke. Scarred skin lighting your lips and jaw like a strike over the sky.
The image stays with him longer than he dares to admit (even to himself) but not for the most obvious reasons.
The mask comes off entirely when the two of you escape onto the gravel-strewn riverbed. Tossed off your head while you cough the freshwater out of your lungs. Lurched forward and soaked to the bone. The reveal casual almost-if the two of you had not just nearly drowned.
He can't help but stare, face flushed and sniveling with more than the icy-chill of the stream.
when you catch him staring, he takes a moment before looking away, as if its hard to remember not too. (respecting your wishes an' all.)
"come on," he supplies, tilting his head for you both to keep getting a move on, even as the sight of your bare-face slivers itself into his chest. Embedded safely between his ribs and only revisited in his mind when the nights get too dark.
⑉ ᴄᴀᴘᴛᴀɪɴ ᴊᴏʜɴ ᴘʀɪᴄᴇ
doesn't know how it happened, but one day your mask just lands in his lap. a 'prank' gone wrong at your expense? some sort of message? maybe it just happens to be no big deal... just laundry you had forgotten?
Anyway, Price is the one to come knocking on your door, rapping his knuckles against the wood, mask in hand, and eyes politely shifted off to the side in case you answered without something on your face.
he doesn't mind, but respects your wishes to keep your identity a secret.
for what reason you hide? he's never asked.
The answer just never seemed to matter to him.
its too late that he finds himself staring off into the distance, waiting for you to answer the door... when you do just that.
you're standing off to the side, door barely peeled back a sliver, a familiar eye tracing his figure with weary curiosity. Unmasked, and still clinging to the shadows of your room without it. The scars he can see curling around your lips and twisting the skin.
when you notice his eyes lingering on it; a strange expression reflected on his own face: distant. thoughtful even. he has to stop you before you shut the door entirely on him.
"hold on-! this is yours," he offers, holding it between the space out to you.
nothing said about the snippet he saw. nothing needed to say. you were you, a damned good person, that's all he needed to know.
so, he stands out there, wrist sandwiched between your doorframe and decision. bracing for the possibility of the door closing on his wrist or for you to take the mask from his fingers... or both.
» ᴀ/ɴ: notable runner-up: Valeria would have slayed you... maybe a bit too much.
» ᴋᴀᴍɪ! ᴡʜʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴜʟᴛ? Gaz I think makes the first matchup well, a softer romantic who can be the forward-step you'll need. The perfect men to take you out on quiet dates and enjoy art, as well as your company. & I just think Price would adore you in his own dorky way.
» ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ :
Gaz & Price can't help it but-they love looking down at you.
Gaz especially treasures the way your eyes look up at him. He likes to run his fingertips over your cheeks and trace the freckles & the one who kisses you boundlessly. Lips, face, cheek, jaw, collarbones- its not stopping until you pull away from him, and all the while he's trying to suppress a smile against your skin.
The both of them are hell-struck by your lips, and fucking helpless when you wear makeup.
Gaz loves to be stained by your lipstick & Price likes to taste your lip-gloss.
(Need this one off my chest-so take a breath with me-) Price just purely, utterly, adoring you. He catches himself staring at you most days, like lost in a dream. The way you dress; the hem of your skirt gliding across the floor, the way your eyes change color in certain lights like honey... Whenever you or Gaz catch him 'off-in-dreamland' he just smiles like he's not a lovesick boy. Denying it with a cough and a shake of his head, pretending he was just... uh-... what was he doing?
Price is usually the one who sits through the entire puzzle with you. Strategizing how the two of you should approach it. Although he takes longer; just head propped up on his fist, glancing down at the pieces and trying to make sense of the colors more than shape... His eyes always flicker up just to smile at you. He likes spending the quality time.
Gaz tries to help too. and by 'help', I mean he tries to come in and 'help' you two do the last pieces. Gaz & Price share a chuckle and the old man shoo's him away.
When it comes to board games though, Gaz isn't taking it easy on either of you.
When your hands are cold, Price usually just takes your wrists in his and places them on his face/neck, letting his body warm up your fingertips. (and he's not going to let you squirm out until he's satisfied) this includes kissing your fingers.
(When he notices your trinkets) Price likes to remind himself of it, and sometimes comes home with tiny things in his hands. Like a piece of leather, a few beads, and a second-hand locket he'd strung together himself (for you of course). Tries to act like its not a big deal too, like, plops it into your hand and walks away explanation-free.
(Your jewelry) Gaz on the other hand, likes to buy you things. Especially little rings for your delicate fingers. He's always liked all your jewelry and the accessories you wear (it always makes him smile when you walk by). Thinks your pretty already but... just stunning in gold.
Gaz is the date-planner between the three of you & always makes reservations before big dates (like valentines day). Which is good, because Price is just told 'we're going' and goes to get dressed.
(Taking you to the museum) Gaz holds your hand & the two of you look at the art and statues together. Price is happy to trail after with a smile, wandering off to buy you both something from the gift shop.
(Price likes your landscape paintings more anyway. Gaz always hangs them up on the wall himself.)
» ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇ :
The domestic parts of the day are the best, in their shared opinion. Gaz comes home, plastic grocery bag in hand and a soft smile, already spotting the two of you on the couch half-cuddled. He starts dinner by cutting everything and prepping the water to a simmering boil. Price on the other hand is resting by your side, warm and comforting you from the prior stress and headache. A strong arm resting on your shoulder, his feet up and the new show you'd all picked up turned on. The two of them blissed on the 'small' pleasures of life.
plz make more nikto drabbles i beg on my hands and knees you write so good (っ´Ι`)っ
😭😭 ikr (as in we need more nikto) & thank you!
im currently cooking up another one as we speak, just have a small scenario block rn that im quickly working thru. expect ouchies & a healthy dash of hard love at first sight (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)
» ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ : trying to convince nikto to teach you russian
» ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ : swearing, fluff, (un)established relationship
» ᴀ/ɴ : i just cant with this man im obsessed, also need a curse word vocab
It was getting old. "Нет," he repeated for the umpteenth time today. Nikto swatted his muddied boots off the bench, the heavy soles hitting the floor with a sharp crack! Chunks of dried earth and grass splitting off the leather.
He plopped down onto the free piece of slab with a heavy sigh that spoke of utter exhaustion. The sleep-ready muscles of his shoulders sagging with a weight that spoke of a tedious day of work, made even longer with the constant pestering in his ear.
"Please?" you asked again, deciding to sit across from him and earning a displeased mutter.
"Нет," he repeated, the russian dismissal sounding more frayed than before, "No," he decided to supplement. In case you didn't get the hint.
With another sigh, he leaned forward and reached down, collecting a boot to begin scrubbing the shit off. Plucking and wiping the bigger pieces off with his rough fingers. Focus trying to remain on the simple task made gruesome.
"Why not? Just a word or something!" your insistence was beginning to remind him of an eager щенок (puppy) who's tail wagged so fast it became a blur.
"'Нет' is a word," he mumbled. That only earned him an audible scoff, the small specks of earth crumbling off and gently falling against the pant of his denim like rain.
"I already know that, you say it enough times," you mumbled, "One word, and I'll leave you alone."
The offer made him visibly pause.
Slowly, the boot in his hand lowered in importance. Those unnerving eyes locked under a dark faceplate were suddenly... contemplating.
He bought into the deal then in silence, the only signal was the inscrutable way he leaned forward. Dangerous eyes dulled with exhaustion and held on you.
After an uncomfortable moment of silence, the word slowly dripped off his tongue for you to follow: "сука."
Nikto watched your brows furrow, maybe unimpressed, possibly trying to memorize his pronunciation... Then, the word mirrored perfectly out of your lips.
"сука."
Like a gunshot, the sound of your voice echoed through his body and splintered directly through his ribcage. The hollow slam! of the boot slipping from his fingers and unto the floor, the upright straightening of his spine, and the sudden fog that veiled over his pupils. Surprise. The man you'd been bothering suddenly stone quiet, and for once, not on purpose.
A deep, uncomfortable heat begin to climb over the broken ridge of his nose and his heartbeat quickened to a flutter. Biceps and collarbones suddenly numb and tingling with a sensation he'd... never felt before.
Confused, you watched the instant unfold. Only left with more questions as the Russian abruptly stood, kicking his boots out of his way and walking off through the door.
"Nikto? Nikto!" you called out, watching him disappear. Had you bugged him too much? Or said it wrong?
» ᴀ/ɴ: you (fu) were SO deadlocked between Soap and Ghost lol
» ᴋᴀᴍɪ! ᴡʜʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴜʟᴛ?
It was almost completely tied between soap and ghost to me lol, but eventually I decided Soap would sort of balance you out more. He'd be more open with his feelings as well as be able to understand you in a way others might not in a relationship! As well as share some of your hobbies!
» ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ :
Being hesitant or refusing to approach first (same) I think Soap would be the perfect match for you! He'd be happy to chase! ... & a bit too obvious with his feelings.
Like- you'll be minding your own business and usually catch him staring at you. A big grin on his face that grows the faintest touch more when you meet his eye, just-happy to catch your attention for a moment... and pretending he has 'no idea' what anyone is talking about when confronted.
He wears his heart on his sleeve though, so eventually, he'd just come up and ask you on a date. (of course a bit stuttering despite himself and a bit red)
As well as acts of service, I Soap also shows his love through physical affection.
Acts of Service: (If you'd let him) he'd organize your things for you. Like putting your pencils or paints away in nice cases, or charging your things for you when you leave them out. Always memorizes your orders and gets you something when it feels like those days where nothing really happens.
Physical Touch: He's like a puppy. When you two are relaxing together he likes to lay his head on you. Either resting on your shoulder, chest, stomach or lap. He just likes listening to you breathe or your heartbeat under his ear, not to mention how warm it is against his cheek.
Absolutely freaking adores your dogs. Wants to try and build trust with them to play with them.
He can tell when you feel stressed. Knows that look on your face when you try to block a ton of noises out or just feel out of place in public. He seems to always know what to say, but more importantly, likes to touch you to ground you. Either linking a few of his fingers with yours or putting a hand on your back.
Hiking & videogames with you are just-*chefs kiss*. Soap always packs things for the hike and even volunteers to drive there. As for games, he likes to watch you play, sometimes chuckling to himself, and jumps at the chance to be your player two. (he won't go too hard on you, but just because he loves you doesn't mean he's not gonna hold back either) (he might)
Literally there's nothing you need to say to him. No need to fill the space when you think you should say something... because he's just so comfortable. Happy to just be with you. And besides, Soap can fill the silence for the both of you (which probably involves him trying to tease and pull a reaction- he thinks is cute-out of you)
(this one is-from where in my mind?) Loves & teases you about your height. "My wee love," that's usually followed by a laugh from him. BUT that man adores putting his arms around your shoulders and kissing your head.
Especially the thing where he looks down at you, his hands on either sides of your face and just... adores you. Thumbs rubbing at the temples of your hair, squeezing so you won't squirm away, his nose brushing yours before he steals a rough-fucking delighted- kiss from you.
(and god does he think your hair is cool, just like his)
God honestly thinks the world of you, especially how smart he considers you. Your writing and the way you see things is just... amazing to him.
» ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇ :
He doesn't know why, probably the 'delights of new love', but the first time he sends you a letter he's nervous. The kind of nervous that puts a smile on your face and fills your chest with warm, tingly sunshine. It's one of the many letters he's written (all unsent so far or crumpled up in the corner of his room), but its important because it's the first time he's mentioned that he 'loves you'. "See you soon, love, I'm-not so good with words like you are, but, I hope will come back just to see you again." Its written in his god-awful handwriting, and it stays close to his chest until the moment he can personally send it off. He thinks its too much and not enough, not for you, but eventually just stuffs it into the mailbox and forces himself to walk away... and wait everyday for your letter back.
➽ Welcome Back ! aghhh- i've always been here & i've come back a few times with some sparse ideas... but i figure why not just jump into the deep end again? writing is a ton of fun! so, i present--my return, (overdue) follower event, and a valentine of my own, from me to you! : 2026 COD Matchups!
[ Open from Feb 14 - Feb 21 (One Week!) ] #he-artery2026
➽ Procedure! If you're new: its okay, I'm here, hold my hand, ask me anything
・ you (my beloved) press the button up near my blog's title and begin a request!
・ pro-tip: mention that this is a match-up!
・ i will not be doing matchups for minors!
・ fill out a form and mention:
・name, gender, pronouns, sexuality, personality, appearance, likes, dislikes, fears, insecurities, nicknames, height, hobbies, quirks, etc.
・AND/OR answer some valentines-day questions!
・how do you act when in love/have a crush? how do you blush? what would you do if someone kissed you? what's your reaction to being asked out? describe how you approach romance! what's your type? what's your love language?
This list is COMPLETELY OPTIONAL. You can add/remix/delete anything. Tell me everything or nothing for your matchup result! I'm the last to judge (i love you all anyway) & I personally wouldn't share everything either lol, i like my mystery!
・ after, let me know your matchup preferences:
・ Pick & Choose! : gender or characters (example: "only women chars!" or "match me with someone from tf141!" or " anyone but ___" or even just: "I'd liked to be matched with ghost!"
・ this is your valentine! if you'd like a complete surprise or a specific character let me know in your request!
・even if i don't 'write' for the character... if you trust i can do it, i will!
・Matchup Delivery Preference:
・[ Open! ] I post your request & results on my blog!
・[ Semi-Private! ] You give me a name/emoji & I post the results only!
(Be sure to check the tag: #he-artery2026 often!)
・[ No One See's! ] I send you a screenshot of your results via tumblr messages
(Your messages have to be open for me to do this!)
・Let me know in your request which delivery method you prefer. If you DONT specify, I will chose Open! by default, meaning I post your request and the results!
➽ Matchup Results!
Characters in Matchup Pool: Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Kate Laswell, König, Horangi, Weaver, Stone, Farah, Alex Keller, Nikto, Krueger, Mace, Rudy, Alejandro, Valeria
I Receive: your request / You Receive:
・ 20% chance of a spirit-kiss from mod
・ Your Matchup Result!
・Mini-explanation of why I think you match!
・ 5 - 15 Headcanons of you & the character!
・ 30 - 70+ word drabble/scenario/cute thing i think would kill us both imagining
・[Limited-Time Offer] The Boketto-Special: a polycule result! (you x char x char) [specify this in your request too!]
➽ Matchup Request Example! In case you need it!
name: "kami" she / her / hers
likes: writing, art, drawing, i-pad, rotting online, horror, videogames
dislikes: dragonflies
personality: chill, honestly lost in my head a ton, introvert, personally hilarious, creative
・when i blush i go red-red. especially my nose and ears.
・when i'm really 'in-love' my palms tingle
・my type is awkward, quiet, and probably also masked (michael myers / könig )
matchup preference: surprise me baby! Anyone!
delivery: open! (you can post it!)
I would also like to have a Boketto-special matchup result!
Like i said, you can add way more to this if you want. Be specific or not!
➽ Happy Valentines Day ♡ Thank you to my followers & my anons *hug* I don't know why you like my writing but I endlessly appreciate it! I'll back to writing soon (I have a few Nikto ideas honestly). Read through everything in this post if you'd like a matchup! Enjoy today & if you don't follow me already... CONSIDER IT!
➽ Need Help? mods' here for you! ask me anything about the matchup or your request! I'm always open and ready to answer!
Hi hi! Love your writing style :) could we do some head cannons on how the guys would react to their partner sucking on their fingers ?
>:] hell yes we can! didn't know which characters so I went with my heart lol
Don't Bite. || COD Reactions
» pairing : gn!reader & harry stone, john price, rodolfo "rudy" parra, simon "ghost" riley
» content warning : nsfw/suggestive, swearing, teasing, established relationship
Its a night like any other, the two of you sitting on the couch, idly watching a movie that just came out. He sits there, eyes forward and watching the ghostly glow of the screen, on arm resting on the armrest and holding the remote, debating if he should change the channel... the other is resting on your chest, calloused hand stroking softly over your hair. An unconscious gesture. Tracing patterns near your temple as he thinks, your head resting comfortably on his strong chest.
He sighs, finally putting the remote down and shifting next to you, sinking more comfortably into the cushions. Keeping you next to him, warm and safe.
His hand travels down your skin, stroking softly over your cheek, the urge to pinch pulling a soft grin to his face. Still not paying attention to the idle motion as the pads of his fingers run up and down the side of your face lovingly... that is, until you turn your head abruptly, capturing his finger between your parted lips. Tongue gently pillowing the digit and seeing how he would react.
stone! immediately pauses whatever the fuck he was doing. He blinks, before he turns his head to look at you, watching as you suck gently on his finger. It's a surprise, even if he doesn't really show it on his balaclava-clad face. "Think you're cheeky ain't ya?" he begins, testing the waters and sliding his finger against your tongue. Watching a little hotly as you suck eagerly.
All kinds of filthy thoughts compile in his mind as he adds another finger into your mouth. You part your lips for him, and he explores a little, feeling how soft and warm the inside of your cheek is to the sharpness of those teeth of yours.
"All right, you asked for it," he grunts, already shifting to pounce on you.
price! at first, thinks it was his mistake. He startles a bit, trying to pull his hand away, the remote clattering to the floor.
When you place a hand on his chest to still him, he glances down at you, the question written all over his face. Then, a heat begins to creep slowly over the bridge of his nose. "Ah, I see," he chuckles, even if its a bit raspy. He relaxes back against the couch, watching closely as you suck on his finger. It's a little criminal how closely he watches you... and how sexy you look. The sight only conjuring up butterflies in the pit of his stomach. You never fail to make him feel young again. His smile reaching his soft eyes, a flicker of heat beginning to ebb within them.
"Got any other surprises?" he murmurs, TV long forgotten, experimentally sliding his thumb along your lower lip before pushing it past your parted lips.
rudy! jolts softly, surprised to feel a sudden wet warmth on his finger. He turns his head towards you, watching curiously as you suckle on his finger, coaxing a reaction out of him. Muttering a soft curse of disbelief under his breath "ay, güey", knowing this is... just the start of something isn't it?
He lets you of course, not pulling away but watching. Actually liking the way your tongue swirls around his thumb. It's hot, and makes a flush rise to his neck. Following the soft movement of your lips like he can taste the sweetness of them... or remember them.
He probably can't stand it too much. He continues to let you suck on his fingers, but he will shift the two of you on the couch into a more comfortable position until he's able to kiss your cheek and cup your face in his hands as you do so.
ghost! at first, doesn't react. Or tries not too. Like its completely normal for you to suck on his finger. His eyes just stay on the screen for a moment longer, lingering on the movie until he finally glances over at you, masked face unreadable as always.
Just when you think he doesn't like it, pausing and only resting your lips on his forefinger... pouting, he speaks up "I didn't say stop," he rumbles, a smirk pulling at his lips, evident even under the black fabric.
It makes him chuckle when you continue happily. It tickles a little, but he lets you, head lolled to the side to keep watching you. His eyes flicker down to your lips, pressing his middle finger against your lips. Using his fingers to part your mouth and peek at your teeth... before letting you do what you want again. His thumb still stroking your cheek.
hiii, first off your writing fucking slaps, i'm loving it so much! second, can i request a sort of continuation to the Strawberry Shortcake Stone thing? except maybe Stone thinks he's gonna be calling the shots, but reader takes the lead and turns him to mush in their hands :3c (i'm so gay for that man it's unreal, help)
[anon-forgive me anon-sobbing] its been a minute since this request, but i haven't forgotten about it-promise... anyway, i added as much damn smut as i could for all our sakes i fear- p.p.s. we're all gay for stone *defeated* || ⤷ pt.1 here!
♡ Strawberry Shortcake Pt.2 || Stone
┊pairing : harry stone x gn!reader
┊content warning : nsfw/smut, mentions of drugs/smoking, swearing, lap sitting, riding, sub!stone (?), kissing, soft dom!reader (?), grinding, your guess is as good as mine
┊word count : 2.6 k !
Fuck, maybe he really shouldn’t have smoked…
Stone would’ve chuckled dryly at the thought— his throat already hoarse and raw from the smoke—if his mind wasn’t already stuffed to the brim with fantasies of your naked body. The images flashing through his mind like some sort of demanding epiphany.
Those hips, your ass… he wanted it so badly; his gloved fingers itching on the armrests of the chair, twitching as if he could already feel the warmth of your skin beneath his fingertips, riding him insistently.
The cloud surrounding his head—both inside and out—was becoming hotter and hotter. Stuffy with need. So much so that he was painfully aware that he was panting softly beneath his balaclava. The heat crawling up his neck and probably flushing his skin below.
Stone sat up with a soft grunt. The need pooling between his thighs making him shift in a futile attempt to try and relieve some of the pressure there.
“Christ,” he mumbled to himself before lifting his balaclava up over his mouth again.
The cool air of the motel room was a momentary shock to his warm skin, quickly chased away by the fact that he was now guiding the blunt back up to his lips. Those usually knowing eyes of his now dilated and blown out with uncut lust.
When was the last time he had been so riled up?
So…
He sighed, taking a drag.
…in need of a fuck.
“You know…” he started, loud enough to finally catch your attention; even a little. Your head tilting an increment or less to show that you were listening… barely.
Stone breathed out the plume of smoke—long and smooth—watching as the opaque vapors lulled towards you purposefully. “It’s ‘bout time you considered taking a break, yeah?”
You glanced up just in time to see him grin. A rare glimpse of his true smile, his lips pulled back with his usual cocky attitude... but...
Stone snickered, trying to mask how utterly whipped he was.
His heartbeat thrummed through his veins like white hot wires. The weed was making his vision vibrate, the motel room buzzing around his head. The heat was already spreading euphorically through his limbs, and he was trying desperately to focus on acting like his usual self instead of a man on fire.
He watched as your brows knitted together, probably picking up on something... off about his current state.
The way his chest rose and fell quickly beneath his jacket, the feverish pulse in his throat, and the way his eyes relaxed... staring at you like you were holy water to a desperate sinner.
"Come on love," he purred, patting his lap invitingly, "take a break, yeah?"
As convincing as he could muster (and trying not to sound too desperate in his attempt) Stone could still see the doubt on your face.
Was this some weird trick of his? No, he had to be joking. Some sort of test to see your reaction, just to chuckle at you in a split second when you considered it...
He knew those thoughts, could practically read them all over your face like that book in your hand, but he couldn't have been more serious in his life.
"We have a job to do," you muttered, shaking your head in dismissal. Not willing to play into his hands this time or risk falling into one of his 'shenanigans'.
So when you turned your attention back off to the side, eyes on the pages in front of you, still watching the cafe for the target to appear... Stone sighed. The disappointment hitting harder than he cared to ever admit.
"Shame," he mumbled, slumping back into the armchair, head still swimming lovingly around him. "Real shame."
He let his eyes close then, trying to stumble back into 'virtuous' thoughts like... fuck, what should he think about?
He mumbled again, shifting in his seat to try and get more comfortable. His thoughts so alive that he didn't even register the soft approach of footsteps on carpeted floor.
He smoked to take a break from the mission, he shouldn't think about that... hell, if the two of you missed the target what's a little 'oopsie' anyway? Nothing he couldn't talk himself out of anyway...
Nah, no mission shit. Instead, next time he smoked he'd try to find something good- not something that melted on his tongue like fucking cotton candy and- ...shit! He had to try and coax you over again-
Before another fumbling thought could form, Stone's eyes sprang wide open. Whole body jolting with abrupt surprise as you sat in his lap, straddling him.
Book—and mission—completely forgotten by the windowsill.
You made yourself comfortable, knees bent and tucked around his legs, lowering yourself gently on his lap. Relaxing and glancing down at him as if waiting for him to say something snarky.
Stone's heartbeat immediately jumped into his throat. "Well... finally decided to have some fun huh?" He grinned, voice clearer without the balaclava covering his mouth, that mustache of his more apparent.
The blunt tumbled out of his hands in favor of grabbing your hips and pulling you forward, flush with his straining erection. "Ohh fuck," he groaned, fingertips tangling insistently into the fabric of your pants. Trying still to pull you closer, to make those delicious hips of yours move against his. To offer him even a shred of relief. A needy response that made you gasp in surprise above him.
"I'm gonna make sure you feel good love..." he began, eyes lingering on your chest and waist. You looked sexy sitting on his lap. His hands slid up and behind your back, practically ripping the gloves off his hands so that he could actually feel you. The things tossed to the side and long forgotten.
Stone's lips immediately skimmed over your collarbones, his warm sugar-laced breath daring to nip right to the point. "I'll fuck you right," he promised. His hands wandering down to the curve of your ass and gripping, the other racing up your shirt to follow the line of your spine eagerly. His calloused fingertips rough and knowing along your skin.
The weed and smoke in his veins both sang and screamed with divine ecstasy, the promise of pleasure lingering on the tip of his tongue... Before you braced both of your hands on his chest and pushed him back.
The moment Stone felt his back sink into the cushion of the chair, he was stunned, glancing up at your expression to try and decipher what he had done wrong-possibly gone too fast, too intense... fuck he couldn't help it.
You peered down at his half-masked face. The usually snarky man looking more like a kicked puppy at the moment. All reddened eyes and flushed pale skin, hands slowing down their path of greed and coming back to settle on your hips. Stubbornly unable to let go, even now. Especially now that you were finally here.
You leaned down some, close enough to his face that you could hear the soft sound of his panting. Those teasing hands of yours keeping a firm weight on his chest to stop him from moving so much.
And just when Stone figured you were about to bring him to an abrupt halt-
"I thought you wanted to take a break?" you suggested simply— leaving him to ponder what the hell you meant—before you began to roll your hips against his. "Just relax."
A grunt slipped freely from his lips then. Those blue eyes of his softly rolling to a close, gripping at your hips again, not daring to guide you but holding on; silently begging that you "Don't stop," he groaned under his breath, the thought tumbling carelessly out of his mouth before he could censor it.
He wasn't a man who begged. He teased, he played things off, he joked or challenged to get what he wanted... but that look in your eye. There was a flicker of heat and tenderness that appeared on your face that told him begging—telling you what he needed— was exactly what you wanted to hear.
His pride be damned.
Your hands smoothed over his chest and jacket, roaming over his shoulders as you ground your ass down against him. Gasping in time with his breathy pants. Below you, Stone's dick throbbed painfully, already hard as steel. Even with you above him, his hips still twitched up instinctively, rubbing directly against you through the fabric.
"Come on love," he groaned, softly shaking his head. The movement mixed with the smoke, made the world spin around him blissfully.
Stone shut his eyes again and let his head loll back against the cushioned armchair, hands holding on dearly to your hips.
He was a sight. His semi-masked face twisted in absolute pleasure. Mouth parted and panting, now uncaring of the grunts and heady groans that spilled from his lips. Stubbled jaw on display and heartbeat in his throat, flushed with a heat that crawled up his neck and beaded at his temple. A man utterly consumed by lust.
The motel room filled with the sounds of your shared breathing, the air tinged with the scent of melted cotton candy and smoke. The heat slowly becoming unbearable for both of you.
You lifted your hips up, climbing away from his lap.
The movement made Stone open his eyes again, head falling forward lazily to watch your thumbs hook into the waistband of your pants. His eyes immediately zeroed in on the sight, watching intensely as you bent forward, peeling the fabric down inch by inch to expose the supple swells of your thighs.
"Fuckkk baby," Stone's breath caught in his throat, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed; practically drooling over himself. His hazy eyes unable to tear themselves away. His cock throbbed in response, already leaking precum into his boxers and eager for what came next.
Just as you were kicking off the rest of your pants, Stone reached down for his belt. Fingers hardly touching the warm clasp of his zipper before your hands shot out to replace his.
"Stone, I said relax, let me do it," you added, already unbuttoning his cargos.
God, if he could marry you on the spot, now would be the time. But all words left his mouth, tongue stuffed with cotton and unable to say much, simply acting as a witness to what you were doing to him.
His breathing slowed, watching with rapt attention as you hooked your fingers into his waistband, peeling his boxers and pants down together over his thighs. Just low enough for his hard cock to spring free.
Stone hid nothing, never would. The tip of his cock was flushed and already smeared with glistening precum, eager and bobbing slightly upwards. Almost seven inches and trimmed, a bit.
He already knew not to move too much, not with you insisting you take care of him. It was enough to make a grown man weep.
He only spread his legs wider as you leaned forward, crawling back onto his lap and settling.
"Fuck," he mumbled, hands already finding your lifted hips again, digging softly into the bare flesh and squeezing greedily. Giving your hips a teasing shake, pressing a hand against your lower back to bring you forward. Close enough that your chests pressed together. "Sorry, love," he added, head vibrating with THC and anticipation. His cock throbbing as you gripped him gently, coaxing it forward until the blunt tip of it kissed your entrance.
Stone held on, thighs shaking acutely below you as he watched. Blue eyes cast downwards at the sight of your spread legs, so close to what he needed: to be balls deep inside.
He fought the instinctual urge to thrust up, keeping stock still as you finally, finally began to sink yourself down on him.
The soft gasp that left your lips matched his own strung-out grunt. The sound working out of his throat at the tight clasp of your body.
"Aw fuckkk, that's it," he sighed, panting and tense below you. His heart beat thrumming through his chest, down his spine, and making heat flood his painfully hard erection.
"Stone," you gasped, wiggling your hips at the initial stretch in a way that had him jolting, clinging to your shirt and hip.
"It's alright, love," he assured, groaning as you worked your hips up and down his sensitive tip. Taking inch after inch slowly until you were dripping down his shaft. The wet sounds filling the room with more than just the lingering smell of cotton candy. "Just take it, like that."
Soon, Stone could only pant and groan. Your body eagerly sinking all the way down to his balls.
"Fuck, shit," he could only swear under his breath as you rode him. All traces of the cocky brit washed away and melting his brain into complete mush. Only focused on the way you felt, your weight bouncing up and down on his cock rhythmically, unguided by him and taking what you wanted.
It was the hottest thing he'd ever seen. The fucking sexiest feeling he's ever felt. You squeezing down on him, unintentionally milking his cock and adding to the overflowing euphoria that he was already drowning in.
The searing heat around his cock was exquisite, a tight silken vice that had him seeing stars. Watching with broken pants as you bounced above him, hips grinding a sinful pattern as you took him over and over again. Sweat built at his temples, hot and feverish under his balaclava and making his hair stick to his forehead.
The sound of skin on skin filled his rushing ears, you haughty moans and whimpers bringing him to an embarrassingly fast climax.
"Shitttt," he groaned, head lolling back against the cushion of the love seat as his body tensed. The telltale tingle of pleasure building to a crux at the base of his spine, making his balls tighten.
Stone physically held on, hands drifting up and down your body ravenously. Squeezing and kneading your hips, your thighs, gripping like he was afraid to let go. Afraid to not feel you. Like you might melt away under his heated fingertips.
"Fuck- I can't- I'm gonna cum-!" He warned through gritted teeth.
You watched as Stone's face contorted, screwed up blissfully. His eyes shot open, fingers digging painfully into your bare thigh and hip, lifting you up in a split second and pulling out at the last second.
Stone didn't even have to stroke himself empty, his cock shooting ropes of cum onto his stomach, hips jerking up in time with each wave of orgasm that rolled over him. A long, drawn out curse rumbling like thunder from his lips. "Oh fuuuuckk!" he groaned, eyes rolling to an almost pained close. His toes curling in his boots as the pleasure shot through him like lightning.
He kept panting, entire body twitching and shuddering below you. A mess from head to toe, head swimming with insane pleasure and the buzz of weed, his body eventually slackening and relaxing like puddy.
His mind went completely blank, his body's attempt at savoring the feeling of his best orgasm in a while.
The last remnants of his orgasm drooled from his softening cock, dripping lazily onto his jacket. "Fuck... you're too good at that," Stone mumbled weakly, trying to laugh and only huffing exasperatedly.
He held you close still, hands stroking over your hips and running up your bare thighs, idly wondering how he could thank you and return the favor. His long forgotten blunt already snuffed out and burning a hole into the motel carpet.
