Modern Warfare 2 X Reader - Tumblr Posts

Eating this shit UP omg 😫💗

「✰」 ━━ NIKOLAI HEADCANONS

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

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

WORD COUNT 1.2k

SAFE FOR WORK

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Лапушка/Лапочка - Lapochka/Lapushka (sweetheart)

Любимая/Любимый - Lyubimaya/Lyubimyy (darling)

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

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

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

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

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

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

NOT SAFE FOR WORK

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

「✰」 ━━ HONEY AND MOLASSES

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

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

WORD COUNT 1.3k

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

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

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

A prayer to him - for him.

“Nnn…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, it’s so beautifully devastating.

“Can’t… t… too much.”

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

And then everything blurs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A goddess amongst mankind, he muses.

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

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

“My pretty girl.”

“Y…”

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

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

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

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

And how could you ever deny him?

малышка - baby, baby girl

нет - no

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

да - yes

Cooking From The Heart

WC-1.8K

Warnings: Mentions of minor injury basically fluff

Notes: Reader has tinnitus, GN! Reader, no use of Y/N, established relationship with John Price

Placing the key into the ignition your car roars to life, your hand moves to the console to turn up the music for the radio preparing yourself for a long day. The car is piled to the brim with groceries ready to cook a feast for four hungry men. Pulling out of the parking lot you start to drive from London to the English countryside where the lone military base sits. As you drive you can’t help but reminisce on the past and how fortunate you are to have such an amazing life.

Joining the military at the ripe age of eighteen you met John Price, your rival, a man that always got on your nerves. Despite how good of a soldier he was he constantly had to outshine you whilst being blunt, hard headed, and a little cocky. You rose through the ranks with him, each promotion with him standing by your side getting the same title much to your dismay. As years pass you both set aside your differences becoming friends despite past bickering, soon after that John took your hand into his on a warm summer night in a safe house asking you to be his girlfriend. 

A long loud ring reverberates from your ears as the radio cuts out pulling you out of your memories, out of the past. A memory rushes through your mind reminding you of the bitter memory as to what changed your life for the better or worse.You and the boys were out fighting the cartel in Las Almas when a stun grenade rolled right to your feet. The flash blinded you and the ringing in your ears was deafening, but unlike the others the ringing in your ears never ceased. Due to tinnitus you were honorably discharged from the military cutting your career short. As you sat home alone you felt as though your life, your family was ripped away, it was hard not having the harsh routine of war in your life. The others and John tried their best to support you but nothing seemed to pull you out from the pit. But it all changed when you decided to go back to your old base to make home cooked meals for the men you loved. It made you feel connected again with those who fought by your side, it filled the hole in your heart. Since then you made it a weekly ritual when they were at base to cook for them.

Driving up to the guards of the base you smile pulling out your ID as usual despite how they were once under your command and how you visit weekly. You park your car and pick up a couple bags of groceries to bring into the community kitchen to start making dinner, it takes a couple trips to bring in all the bags due to the sheer amount of food you bought. You look at the analog clock to see it's only noon but it's essential to start early, needing every precious minute to cook or else they’d be eating at midnight. Turning on the radio you start to prep all the ingredients making sure to wash every vegetable there is, you mix the sauces and cut the herbs so the food will taste immaculate. 

Your mind drifts again, smiling softly as you remember the best day of your life. John held your hand softly guiding you through a small park nearby your shared flat until you saw the soft glow of candle lights illuminating the path ahead. Walking together hand in hand along the glowing trail until you reached a clearing where the moon was bright reflecting off the pond in front of you. You admired the scene getting lost in the moment until you looked back at John who was on his knee with a ring asking if you’d be his one and only.

Looking outside of the window you see the sun setting along with the sounds of boots shuffling against the floor, low playful banter echo through the halls and their baritone voices seem to shake the thin walls of the base. The voices become more clear as the men slowly enter the rec room, Soap's iconic accent rings out after a dramatic sniff of the air.

“Smells delicious charaid I oughta get tha’ recipe from you onea these day”, the scot says with an infectious smile. He moves in close attempting to dip his finger into the soup to have a taste. Before he could even attempt it you lightly smack his hand with a wooden spoon shaking your head as you continue to prep dinner, “Nuh uh Mactavish you’re not having a taste of the soup until it's done and all of you get washed up.”

A chuckle comes from Gaz as he grabs Soap by the collar dragging him away from the delectable pot of soup in front of them saying teasingly, “Y’know that our former Captain will never let you have a taste before its done, and they are right we’re pretty gross from training last one to the showers has to organize the armory”. With that the two sergeants sprint out of the rec room jeering and poking fun at each other. 

You chuckle at the childish sight feeling a familiar pair of eyes staring at you from the corner of the room. Without you even looking up to see who it is you say softly, “Hello Simon'', there's a moment of silence before the mans gruff voice responds quietly, “How are you holdin’ up captain?” disguised to know if you were ok mentally, a sign that he cared.

A small smile forms on your lips as you turn to look at the man that many fear, the ghost of 141. His eyes soften slightly as he sees the smile on your lips. “I’ve been good, sometimes it gets lonely back at the flat without you guys running around it but I've been waiting all week to see you guys again”, he nods before leaving the rec room getting the answer he wanted to hear heading to the showers just like his sergeants.

A single pair of boots walk towards you stopping right behind you, without any fear you lean back into the man's chest looking up at him. His beard is perfectly groomed as usual and his beautiful blue eyes look into yours. A small tired smile appears on his face as he leans down to kiss the crown of your head mumbling, “I missed you love”, his strong arms snake their way around your waist pulling you in closer. You turn your head to  the side of his cheek before returning to cooking dinner, enjoying the feeling of your husband holding you close. “I missed you to lovie”. Despite him seeing you every morning and everynight back at home, any time away from you was painful for him.

He stands behind you holding you close for a while enjoying your presence against his tired body. Slowly one of his hands reaches out to grab a piece of food still cooking before you take his hand into yours, stopping his attempt. Squeezing his hand before bringing it up to your lips to kiss softly you say teasingly, “You may be the Captain of this team but that doesn’t make you exempt from the rules big man”, he only laughs and kisses your cheek responding with a cheeky grin “We both know you can’t stay angry at me for long and who is the one that always got in trouble for breaking the rules while we were privates? Oh wait I think it was you”. You can’t help but roll your eyes playfully before playful shoving him off of your body, “I’m sorry love but you're drenched in sweat and smell bad, you need to go head to the showers or else I’m not saving you a plate. Dinner should be ready by the time everyones out.” John chuckles before kissing your cheek softly saying softly in his gruff voice, “Roger that captain I’ll go take a shower you better save me a plate”, he shuffles away leaving you alone in the kitchen yet again. 

The soft music from the radio playing in the background dulls the ringing in your ears and fills the lonely space. Searching through the many bags you brought to the base you finally  find the nice tablecloth, you spread it out and place it over the rickety old dining room table. As the music flows you place each plate, fork, and knife with care despite knowing it’ll be used to destroy the table cloth underneath them. You place the food onto the kitchen table due to the sheer amount of food there is, as you set down some vegetables you hear the jovial conversations of the team coming in ready to eat. 

Gaz lets out a low whistle, “Damn you really cooked your ass off huh”, you wipe your hands off on a towel before saying with a smile, “Only for my boys no one else gets the pleasure of having a taste”. The men start to gather around before you say, “Before everyone eats, no weapons at the table. Other soldiers can worry about war but right now it's dinner time, time for you to be men and not soldiers”

They place the weapons on a table nearby, their knives and pistols sit neatly so they can easily grab them just in case.  Soap looks up at you and says curiously, “We all know tha’ you don’t want knives at tha table but is there a reason as ta why?”. You look up at him and say frankly with a smile, “well I just want you guys to be relaxed for once, letting your worries go enjoying a nice dinner. Along with the time you tried to do a knife trick at the table and almost sliced off your finger” the men around Soap laugh. Ghost slaps Soap’s back playfully, “You were cryin’ like a baby Johnny, screamin’ out for the medic running around like a chicken without a head”.You join in with the laughter feeling the stresses of the week melt off your shoulders.

With a wide smile you announce happily, “Alright guys dig in”, Soap is the first to pick up his plate piling his food up onto the plate with the others right behind him doing exactly the same. John walks up to you with two plates, handing one of them to you, “Thank you love for making all of this food” you look up at him with a smile, “it's nothing John, I love doing this. It's the highlight of my week.” John allows you to go in front of him to get your food. You sit down at the table and John sits next to you, carefree conversations are made between the men and you as they start to eat their food. Their smiles and laughter are as precious as gold to you. This is your family, this is home and there is no greater joy in your life than to be eating dinner with the people you love most.

another price lookalike porn link unlocked

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“or is it this wet for daddy? hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

©️ glossysoap 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission.