#rodolfo parra

[soilents]

PLEASE MORE ALERUDY 🙏

also food 🪱🪱🪱

thank you for the meal… 🍽️ some doodles !

los vaqueros..

i imagine alejandro’s laughter is contagious

the song has nothing to do with his name, but it reminds me of him every time it plays 😆

[z-nth]

[thelionsship]

A: HOW DARE YOU DETAIN MY MEN?!! 🤬🤬🤬

[sefarlen]

Do it yourself, sergeant....

[softsnarl]

(18+, CoD men × plus–size!fem!Reader)

I was online shopping for a new anklet and got an idea:)

cw: cuteness aggression; smut; established romantic relationship; wee bit of foot fetish/feet

Simon “Ghost” Riley

You sit on the edge of the bed after your everything shower, lotioning your legs slowly. Simon leans in the doorway, arms crossed, watching like he always does, because the domesticity of it grounds and calms him.

When you reach your ankle, the new rose-gold chain glints—delicate links with a tiny skull charm and a little heart dangling beside it. He goes perfectly still, like an apex predator zeroing in on his next meal.

You glance up and a slow smirk spreads on your lips. “Like it, babe?”

Simon scoffs quietly as if the answer is obvious, crosses the room in three strides, drops to his knees without a word, and wraps one large hand around your calf. He lifts your foot to his mouth, presses a kiss to the inside of your ankle right above the chain, then traces the metal with his tongue.

The cool rose-gold warms against your skin as he growls low, “Bought yourself somethin’ pretty to show off for me, yeah?” His other hand is already sliding up your thigh, pushing the towel apart while you giggle with giddiness.

“Fuckin’ lovely.”

By the time he has you flat on your back, he’s sucking marks around the anklet, muttering filthy praise about how gorgeous your thick legs look like this, all adorned with jewelry and taken care of. Simon fucks you slow and reverently, eyes locked on the way the little skull charm jingles with every deep thrust.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

You’re in the kitchen, humming a tune while making a snack for yourself and him, when Johnny comes in from the garage, still greasy from tinkering with his truck.

You’re wearing shorts for once because it’s warm inside the house despite winter warring outside, and the silver anklet with its tiny star and moon charms catches the light as you shift your weight.

Johnny stops dead, toolbox clattering to the floor. “Fuckin’ hell, hen.”

Next thing you know he’s on you—grubby hands on your hips, spinning you, lifting you onto the counter as you yelp. He drops to a crouch, mouth hot against your calf, kissing up to the anklet like it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen.

“Johnny!”

“Look at this wee beauty,” he groans, teeth grazing the chain as your protest dissolves into flustered giggles. “Makes yer legs look even more edible.”

“Jesus Christ, Johnny—” you bemoan in fond exasperation while he spreads your thighs wide to bury his face between them, licking over the seam of your cotton shorts until the fabric is soaked with his saliva and your own slick before he yanks it down your thick legs, panties included.

“Not in front of the bloody sandwiches!” you squeal, but our thighs part wider for him, and Johnny eats you out right there on the kitchen counter, groaning and slurping into your cunt until you’re shaking, keeping one greasy hand wrapped around your ankle, thumb rubbing over the charms like he can’t get enough.

John Price

You’re curled on the couch beside him watching some documentary he picked. You’ve kicked off your warm slippers; legs stretched across his lap.

The new gold anklet—simple chain with a tiny compass charm—gleams against your skin when you flex your foot and wiggle your painted toes absently. Price’s hand stills on your thigh. His gaze drops, then darkens instantly.

“When did you get that, love?” he asks, his voice a rough murmur while his calloused thumb drags over the charm.

“Yesterday,” you answer with a cheeky smile as you clock that look in his eyes. “Used your credit card like you told me to.”

John lifts your leg gently, brings your foot to his mouth, and kisses the inside of your ankle right where the chain rests with a low groan. The gold warms against his lips, his coarse beard rasps against your supple skin.

“Christ, you’re trying to kill me, sweetheart.”

And he spends the next twenty minutes worshipping your legs—slow kisses up your calf, teeth scraping the soft flesh of your thigh—until he’s hard and aching against his pants. Then he pulls you into his lap, slides your panties aside, and sinks into you in one smooth thrust, hands locked around your ankles so the little compass jingles softly with every roll of his hips.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

You’re getting ready for bed, sitting at the vanity and fixing your bonnet in your robe, when Kyle walks past in his boxers, stops, and does a double take.

You’ve crossed your bare legs, and the delicate silver anklet with its tiny butterfly charms catches the lamplight.

He’s behind you in seconds, hands on your shoulders, mouth at your ear. “Now when did you start wearing that?”

You flash a cheeky smile at his reflection. “Thought it was cute.”

“Cute,” Kyle repeats with a snort, like the word personally offends him. He spins your chair, kneels, and lifts your foot into his lap. His thumb traces the chain, then the curve of your ankle, then higher. “You’ve no idea what this does to me, do you?”

You’re very aware that he has a thing for your feet, and the anklet pushes him straight over the edge.

“Oh, I have a little hunch, Garrick,” you snicker while Kyle kisses every manicured toe, gently licks along the smooth arch of your bejeweled foot, then works his way up your calf while his free hand slips between your thighs, finding your pussy bare.

“Need you, baby. Please,” he groans helplessly, peppering kisses along the inside of your plush thigh like you’re the queen and he’s the devoted subject.

However, by the time he’s got you maneuvered on the bed, Kyle fucks you with your legs thrown over his broad shoulders, folding you in half with his hazel eyes fixed on the way the butterflies flutter and dangle so prettily against your skin with every thrust, telling you breathlessly how perfect your thick, soft legs look wrapped in silver.

Nikolai

You’re in the hangar next to his cabin in the mountains, barefoot on the cold concrete, helping him sort through a crate of smuggled parts.

The new gold anklet—thick chain that resembles the one he wears around his neck—shifts against your skin as you bend and stretch.

Nikolai notices, pauses mid-reach, dark eyes narrowing. A slow, predatory smile spreads across his handsome face.

“Milaya moya,” he drawls, voice thick with his accent, “what is this little thing you hide from me?”

“What do you even mean?” you reply with a soft huff, still rummaging and shifting on your feet as the cold starts biting your skin.

He drops the wrench with a clang, crosses the space between you, and lifts your leg without warning, hooking it over his hip while you yelp then giggle.

“This,” Nikolai growls. His rough palm slides up your calf, thumb pressing the chain so the metal bites just enough to make you gasp next. “Gold suits you,” he murmurs, leaning down to drag his teeth along the links. “Makes me want to mark you with something even prettier.”

“Oh… that—” You squirm in his grip as he handles you so effortlessly; his eyes flick up to meet yours. “Da, that.”

You end up braced against the side of his helo, legs spread wide and standing on your tiptoes, his cock buried deep from behind while one mammoth hand of his stays wrapped around your throat, gentle and grounding.

“Next time, you’ll wear one with my name on it,” he growls against your nape, groaning shamelessly in between thrusts while your nails scrape against metal.

Alejandro Vargas

You’re barefoot in the kitchen of the ranch house, reaching for a glass on the top shelf. The late sunlight catches the new gold anklet—thin chain with a tiny sun charm and a little seashell dangling beside it.

Alejandro freezes in the doorway, duffel still over his shoulder from the drive home, the collar of his fatigues clinging to his sweaty neck. His dark chocolate eyes lock on your ankle, then slowly travel up the curve of your calf, the soft thickness of your thigh under the pale blue sundress.

“Ay, mi vida,” he breathes, his voice turning rough at the edge. “¿Cuándo compraste eso?” He drops the bag with a thud, crosses the room in two strides, and sinks to his knees right there on the tile like he’ll start praying any second.

“Today,” you answer, smiling down while you rake your fingers through his messy, raven locks. “Bought it as a little treat for myself… and you.”

He chuckles, eyes glinting mischievously while his strong, gloved hands slide up your legs, thumbs tracing the chain gently. He presses open-mouthed kisses along your ankle, teeth grazing the gold until the metal warms against your skin.

“Looks so damn pretty on you,” Alejandro growls, already pushing the dress higher before disappearing under the flowy skirt, his next words muffled as he presses his face against your clothed cunt: “Makes me want to ruin the rest of you.”

“Alejandro!”

You gasp audibly, hands grappling to grip the edge of the kitchen counter for support while he’s too busy mouthing at the thin cotton of your panties.

Rodolfo Parra

You’re curled on the couch, reading, when Rudy enters through the open sliding doors facing the backyard, still dusty from training recruits all day.

You stretch your legs across his lap when he sits with a tired groan, and the delicate silver anklet—a simple chain with a tiny heart and a little cross charm—glints against your skin.

His breath audibly catches. You glance up from your book, blinking slowly as you watch and feel his hand on your calf, one thumb brushing the chain like it’s fragile before he lifts your leg to take a closer look.

“Hermosa… when did you start wearing this?” His voice is soft, almost reverent.

“I found it in my jewelry box today,” you answer, closing the book without bothering to remember the page. “Thought it might be cute. Is it too much?”

“Too much?” His pupils blow as he lifts your foot, kisses the inside of your ankle right over the anklet, then higher, slow and deliberate, while your breath keeps hitching and your cheeks begin to burn.

The metal cools then warms naturally under his lips and sweet attention.

“Come here, cariño. Let me love you.”

And you end up straddling your husband on the couch, dress pushed up to your waist, his hands cradling your thick thighs while he rocks up into you. Every slow thrust makes the anklet chime softly against his wrist while keeps whispering “tan perfecta, mi amor” against your neck until you’re both trembling and sated.

Phillip Graves

You’re lounging by the pool at the ranch house your husband bought for you in Texas, legs dangling in the cool water, when Phillip steps out in swim trunks and aviator sunglasses.

The new rose-gold anklet—delicate links with a tiny lone star and a little horseshoe—catches the sun as you kick and splash lazily. He stops mid-stride, shades sliding down his nose as he tips them dramatically.

“Well, damn, darlin’.” He’s in the water before you can blink, strong hands on your hips pulling you to the very edge.

“What?” you ask languidly (because you know it gets him hot and bothered every time), adjusting your own sunglasses with the tip of your manicured finger. “Watch it. I just put on some tanning oil.”

Phillips grins dangerously, flashing pearly white teeth as he gropes and massages your calves. Water drips off him as he stands between your plush thighs, mouth already on your ankle as he lifts it, sucking the wet chain between his teeth and tugging playfully.

“Buying yourself pretty things that make your legs look this edible oughta be illegal, honey,” he drawls smugly in between kisses.

“Ugh, shut up, you silly man.” You tut, nudging your toes against his buff pecs, though it merely makes him groan aloud, blue eyes twinkling behind tinted glasses. “Make me.”

Phillip eats you out right there on the pool deck, water lapping at your calves; his merciless tongue greedy and shameless as ever as he devours his pretty wife. When he finally fucks you, it’s hard and fast against the lounger, one hand always gripping your ankle like he owns the jewelry and the woman wearing it.

König

You’re lounging on the large, custom-made bed, scrolling through your phone, when König ducks through the doorway, fresh from the gym.

You lift one leg to reach your foot and scratch an itch, and the sturdy silver anklet—a thicker chain to survive his handling, with a tiny crown charm—flashes against your moisturized skin. König visibly freezes at the sight, hood still half-on, big baby blues wide behind the T-shirt mask.

“Gott im Himmel,” he mutters, his voice slightly muffled. He’s across the room in a heartbeat, faster than anyone might expect, massive frame folding to his knees. Careful hands—always so incredibly careful with you—lift your foot like it’s precious.

You’re already smiling behind your screen when he presses his masked mouth to the chain, then yanks the fabric up just enough to kiss the skin underneath.

“So goddamn beautiful on you, Schatz,” he rumbles, his Austrian accent thick. “Makes me want to make a mess and keep you in bed forever.”

König has obvious foot worship tendencies, and the anklet sends him into overdrive.

“Can… I?” he asks tentatively, cock visibly straining against his grey sweats. And you roll your eyes with fond exasperation before resting your foot on his meaty thigh encouragingly. “Sure, baby. Go ahead.”

A visible shudder wrecks through him while he whimpers and fumbles to free his fat length, already flushed and weeping pre from its slit. And König spends ages kissing and massaging your feet and calves with one hand while stroking his cock with the other; fucking into his big fist until he paints your foot and delicate anklet with his load before licking it all clean under your gentle praise afterwards.

Keegan P. Russ

You’re sprawled on the couch in one of his old and worn-out Marine Corps hoodies and not much else, curvy legs stretched out leisurely, watching that one guilty pleasure Reality TV show of yours while eating popcorn.

The new matte black anklet—tactical-looking chain with a tiny skull and a little dog tag charm—catches the soft lamplight when you wiggle your toes to keep your feet from falling asleep.

Keegan, walking past and cracking a cold beer open, nearly stumbles. “Jesus Christ,” he groans, setting the can down hard on the coffee table as you glance up at him curiously. You’re ready to defend the show stubbornly, but he’s on you in seconds, tackling and pinning you on the couch beneath him while you squeal in surprise; long fingers tracing the black metal like it’s classified intel.

“Tryin’ to fuckin’ kill me again, baby?” His voice is lower now, rougher, and playfully accusing.

“What the fuck are you ta—AH!” He lifts your leg over his shoulder, mouth hot against your ankle, teeth scraping the chain before he bites your Achilles tendon. “Good enough to fuckin’ eat,” he growls. “Fuckin’ flexible, too, huh.”

That’s enough to knock the last bit of air from your lungs and make your pussy drip, and you watch his glacier blue eyes darken as soon as he catches onto that. His plump lips split into a shit-eating grin before he rocks his hips against yours.

“You’re such an asshole,” you whine, squirming helplessly.

“Tit for tat, baby,” Keegan murmurs, dipping his head to mouth and kiss along your neck; one large hand keeping a firm grip around that bejeweled ankle of yours.

[ ᴄᴏᴅ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ]

[lanialania00]

[laswells-ashtray]

"I'm stuck on what to name our son."

For a brief moment, Alejandro's heart falls to his ass. He isn't prepared to be a father, nor does he know a thing about pregnancy.

Then he remembers that he cannot, in fact, knock Rudy up via the asshole.

"Who is our son?"

He knows the panic was written on his face when he sees Rudy's grin. He looks good, pearly whites and smile lines. Alejandro would appreciate it more if his heart weren't pounding.

"The rat who keeps running around our garden."

Spousal homicide is illegal, Alejandro knows this. He does. But lord above, if it isn't a thrilling idea.

"His name is Luis and don't ever do that again."

[cherie-doll]

Watching cod mwn work out

🤤

AND GETTING CAUGHT😔

being a little slow with reqs srry about that (not proofread i fell asleep 3x while writing this)

ε price, ghost, soap, gaz, roach, alejandro, rudy, phillip graves, makarov, keegan, könig, horangi, nikto з

Watching COD Men workout :3 (and getting caught-)

:‹ Price...

He didn't think anything of it when he casually announced to you he would be working out, he was already walking towards the bedroom to change as he left you on the couch scrolling on your phone, except you IMMEDIATELY stopped scrolling and raised an eyebrow but his back was already to you, walking away

You sat up, putting your phone down you waited and listened for when he would walk out of the bedroom, you observed him walk past with lighter clothes and a towel

You followed him as he made his way to the little workout area he had set up in your home (according to him this was better than going to the gym), and watched as he started working out

Despite the jokes others often threw at him, he was pretty fit, you practically drooled as you watched him lift, and THANK GOD he wore shorts today because when he started visibly sweating???

Not to mention the sounds of his grunts made you fumble in your pocket for your phone, your fingers tried opening the camera app but it was difficult when your eyes were focused on him

You took your eyes off of him for ONE second as you looked down at your phone, and when you aimed it up to take a video you jumped back, flinching when you noticed his chest was taking up all of your camera's view

He had walked up to you while you were busy making sure the angle was just right to capture all of him, you barely registered when he asked why you wouldn't just join him

:‹ Simon...

Bruh he KNOWS you ain't got a single athletic bone in your body so why are you at the gym every time he so happens to be there?!? You certainly didn't go some digging around and ask the only other person he interacts with.. not like you'd ever do that, that's crazy haha

What's sad is that this man covers up more than a Victorian era lady, even when working there's no chance you'll see him wearing tight tank tops or shorts, he's somehow able to keep this up even during the summer, man and you were so looking forward to seeing him show some skin :(

^Although adding to that, you go feral when you so much as get to see his veiny hands when he takes off his gloves and readjusts them, Simon hears growling and he wonders if Riley got loose but no that's just you

No one else says anything when they walk past you and you're watching Simon like a hawk watches its meal, and man you wished you could take a bite out of those thighs-

:‹ Johnny...

He would assume you're just trying to take pics for inspiration or something, just like how it's totally normal for him to have pics of another dude he really admires because it's something called "motivation"

And sure it might be a little weird when he's taking a break, is taking a sip of his water but accidentally spills some on his shirt making it cling to his chest and you without waiting a single second pull out your phone

Also, he hears the camera shutter go off like every three minutes to the point that it unnerves him, but when he turns around you pretend you're taking a selfie (you DEFNITELY weren't zooming in on him..)

At some point he comes up behind you, takes your phone out of your hands and no matter how hard you try punching him there's just no way you're getting your phone back...

:‹ Kyle...

One day when he's about to leave for the gym he's surprised to see you wanting to tag along, he agrees and opens the door for you to get into the car, he's glad you want to come along with him and maybe start a routine yourself

But you know the REAL reason why you're going to that gym, you're so ready to get some closeups of him in his workout clothes all sweaty and grunting you're already drooling just thinking about it, Kyle looks over thinking you're hungry poor thing, and you are.. but not for food mwehheh

Once there you pretend to find something to do but make sure you find a good spot to watch him from, you practically steal the spot from some gym bro who was doing his warmup

You know it's prime time when Kyle gets on that treadmill and you get a nice view from behind, he has his headphones on so you don't think he would notice if you stared a little, right?

Wrong he saw you ogling from the mirror and you shamelessly grinned at him and took off

:‹ Roach...

You giggled maliciously to yourself as you saved yet another picture of Roach working out that a fellow soldier had taken and sent to you

Poor Roach didn't know why his buddies would ALWAYS take a mandatory photo every time they worked out, something about "keeping track of the progress" but those photos are really just getting sent to one person who demands to have a new photo every day (you)

You have an entire album dedicated to him working out, it’s not common so you consider these pictures rare and therefore cannot be seen by anyone else

That is until Roach himself accidentally comes across them when you’re admiring them when you think no one is around, but you make the mistake of letting your guard down and falling asleep with your phone unlocked

Roach was the unfortunate victim to walk by and catch a glimpse of your phone screen, backing up and taking a closer look…

:‹ Alejandro...

You love looking at his arms, you do it every chance you get, and what better chance to stare at him than when he's working out? You're a mosquito the way you're attracted to the veins on his arms and hands when he's doing exercise or hard work

Is it wrong to want to watch those beefy muscles at work?! You love it when he goes to blow off some steam and he's just absolutely beating the shit out of that punching bag, you wish you were that punching ba- WOAH. Something about having him stir up your insides-

That lovesick, dumb look on you scares people a little, especially because you're sat there for however long Alejandro decides to workout that day, which can be long or short depending on how he's feeling

He finds out because whenever he checks ur socials you somehow always have the latest pic of him working out alongside some freak caption that can only be the result of a person down BAD

:‹ Rodolfo...

Oh you just KNOW how strong his back muscles are it drives you insane to think how lucky the other soldiers at base are when they most likely see those muscles at work a lot more often than you do

It's silly really, you could just ask him to take his shirt off and he'd listen to anything you ask of him, but there's something sweeter in watching him workout, unaware that you're there watching

You're supposed to be running a few laps yourself but you can't help but become distracted by how tight his shirt has gotten now that it's clung to his skin due to the sweat rolling off of him, you trip over yourself but you don't even feel the pain as your head is still turned his way

He's noticed, seen your nosebleed and runs over, all worried as he holds a tissue to your face, but you barely answers his worried questions as you're just stare shamelessly at his chest, he takes your silence as a sign of you being disoriented and pulls you up so quick you're barely processing it except for the fact that his arms are around you and pulling you into his side

and yes you have a stupid grin plastered on your face so you look insane lol

:‹ Phillip...

You're pissed the Shadows tattled on you and told their boss about you watching him workout, can't a girl/guy have hobbies?!?

But if you're telling me he wouldn't like that? You're lying. He's prob set you up a front row seat, tease you about how your little camera won't do him justice, observe with your eyes and see it up close, yeah?

Catching you staring, eyes absolutely stuck to him, mind mush by the time he's done taken his shirt off because of how "intense" that workout was, all your reactions feed into his ego that's already big enough as is

It starts getting a little weird for him when you ask how his workout was and then mentioned a really specific set of workouts he did just that day, like how do you know exactly how many times he did squats?

:‹ Makarov...

How amusing.. he may have thought you simply were in awe of how strong he was, you've seen his scars and admire him, right? Wrong, your honor they are all freaks and only wish to see that layer of sweat form over his skin as he works those muscles and limbs

This is the only moment you see him uncover himself and you can admire the markings on his skin, you don't know it but he's being generous letting you observe, anyone else wouldn't have this chance

You're barely thinking, not like you ever do when around him, just snapping picture after picture and smiling until he one day demands for your phone, he can't risk you leaking something, he has enemies everywhere after all, no?

But he allows you keep watching because.. idk why maybe he likes it or sum idk

:‹ Keegan...

You think he doesn't notice you staring but he does, that man can notice anything around him within a certain radius, so you aren't exactly slick when you ask him to help you pick up some boxes and carry them, he knows you're plenty capable of doing it yourself

Why you want him to do it is beyond him tbh, but you don't miss the opportunity to stare as he bends over to pick the boxes up and pressing up to two or three against his chest as he carries them over

He doesn't know how or why but you've somehow have been able to figure out his exact workout schedule, he has a routine when it comes to this stuff.. usually it's at night that he prefers because the place is empty and somehow he can always see you obscured in the shadows observing him

He's caught you stealing his spare shirt he keeps in his bag once he's changed, he had to wrestle that thing away from you because who would actually wants a sweaty and used shirt? You apparently

You're not being subtle either whenever you bring up how he'd "benefit" from getting tighter workout clothes to allow him to move freely

:‹ König...

For fun you'd join König and "help" him workout.. how? Well he's a big guy so sometimes for a challenge you'll sit on his back while he does pushups or something, but he's confused as to why you always without fail insist to set up your phone to record the workouts

You even buy one of those clip on mics so you can get the sound of his labored breaths, he questions it silently but never outright asks you, you'll listen to it later with headphones to capture EVERYTHING, you might even download it and listen to it like on a cd or have it saved on your phone, you play it every night religiously and it has you sleeping like a baby by the time the recording is over

You wish you could see him workout in a compression shirt or perhaps be lucky and see him without a shirt but that's a bit of a stretch, and what's worse is that he doesn't seem to know what he does to you!

:‹ Horangi...

You lament the fact that you don’t get to see those muscles as often as you’d like to, so you take to watching him whenever he works out, the tiger for once isn't doing the stalking and is instead being watched

While working out, he's wearing one of those tank tops he so much loves, he gets hot a lot for no apparent reason, and all of his previous shirts were so musty you went out a bought him new ones, except he complained about how most of them were long sleeved so you ended up cutting the sleeves right off and making a mental note to only purchase tank tops next time

You just seen him lifting and you're a mess, a puddle on the floor if you will, and it takes everything in you to not let out demonic screeching when he flexes his biceps, checking in the mirror

Except he jump scares you when you notice he's been looking at you through the mirror

:‹ Nikto...

you must've been knocked out and lost half of your good braincells if you're asking NIKTO to work out with you, not that he won't but most people wouldn't ask the guy who delivers straight up insane lines while aiming at targets, you know?

"you say you're okay?" he asks confused as he has you in a headlock, this.. isn't even a workout anymore it's just sparring which wasn't what he originally had in mind but whatever

your cheeks are squished, his sweat is transferring onto your skin and you can smell his sweat but you wouldn't trade places with anyone else right now, in fact this is where you'd like to stay for a while so you try and stall, you freak

later when he's doing squats you position yourself a little behind him and pretend you're doing pushups but you've become distracted and are now instead just lying on the floor, your head propped up on both your hands as your feet swing in the air behind you, that perverted smile on your face

it slightly unnerves Nikto when he catches you staring in the mirror but doesn't say anything, from now on he just declines to you whenever you ask to workout with him