#russel adler smut

[ma1dmer]

Call of Duty - Russell Adler NSFW

AMERICAAAA RAAAAAAH 🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex): he sits back, lights up a cigarette and brings you close to him, he needs a second to come back down, usually doesn't talk much right after, but he likes to listen as he trails his hand up and down the small of your back, blowing the smoke away from your face and offering you the cigarette, sometimes watching you talk makes him want to go for a second round

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s): he is a chest guy, he loves the feel of cupping your chest when you ride him, playing with your nipples or putting his mouth around them, he's really into feminization as well, you are his pretty little thing no matter what, and him playing with your chest enforces that, loves sexy bralettes, low cut tops and matching sets especially

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically): he loves the mess, everytime you get embarrassed he assures you that's exactly what his goal was, to have you ruining his sheets, whether thats by squirting or cumming, he also really loves pulling out right as he's cumming inside of you, just to watch it leak out of you, but that part is only reserved if you two have been together for a long time

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs): he has a few darker fantasies that he doesn't quite know how to bring up to you, he'll jokingly pepper them in during his dirty talk or when he pins you down, pointing out how easy that is for him, or when you leave your window open, or when you are drinking a bit too much, just a hint to something darker, maybe he's making you warm up to the idea, testing the waters to see if you'd like something like that, he'd never bring it up himself, especially if you are in an actual relationship, but he'd do enough to plant the idea in your mind make you want to at least explore these ideas

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?): of course he has experience, he has an ex wife, he's had his fair share of one night stands, and it's a real shame that he can backup all his claims, because he does get quite cocky

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying): reverse and normal cowgirl, enjoys letting you set the pace, his hands always on your chest unless you get tired at which point he'll pull you down chest to chest and thrust up inside you, fast and rough, knocking the wind straight out of you

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.): his favourite thing to get to you is acting as if you two are strangers just meeting each other when you are out at a bar, he hits you up with the cheesiest swoon worthy one liners, he buys you a drink, asks your name and everything, its stupid and god damn him it works every time he does it

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.): mostly keeps things trimmed unless he knows you two are meeting up for the night, then he has no issue cleaning it up entirely, he always smells very strongly of after shave, tastes like it too when you mouth at his neck

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect): he can flirt like nobody else, but being romantic, it isn't so easy for him, everytime you think he's doing something romantic, he's suddenly pulling away from you, both metaphorically and literally, mentally and physically, one second he's kissing you telling you he missed you breathlessly, the next he's spun you around to face the wall, not wanting to look at your face

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon): when he was by himself he had no qualms about handling himself, when he needed to fall asleep quickly or when he was too tired or lazy to pick someone else up, but once he has you, he likes to hold himself off, always tells you that he's doing it for you, how pent up he is and how difficult it was thinking of you while he was away

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks): impact play, cnc, feminization, voyeurism etc

L = Location (favorite places to do the do): your place, his place, any room, it does not matter, if you can't decide, a hotel room is a good copromise, he also enjoys the odd domesticity of a kitchen as well, coming up behind you when you are making breakfast for the both you

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going): he has a very sensitive neck, kiss the side of his neck while talking to him, drag your teeth down his collarbones and watch him melt

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs): there isn't a lot he'd be opposed to with the right motivation some would say, he is easy to convince, just give him some time to think things over

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.): don't get him wrong he loves tasting you, but nothing beats the image of you on your knees, he is a head pusher, he swears he doesn't do it on purpose, hes probably lying, the feeling of your throat around his cock is secondary to the sounds you make when you are caught off guard

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.): the foreplay is long and by the time he is ready to push himself inside you it really doesn't matter, the act itself is kind of detached he's mostly chasing his own pleasure and by then you don't really mind, already boneless and sore

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.): he loves them, loves the idea of them more than the mess dealing with them brings, messy hair, cum on his clothes etc etc, but he really doesn't mind squeezing you in while doing paperwork to destress or have you in the stalls of some run down bar on one of your dates

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.): you'll have to tell him what you want, most of the time he's willing to indulge you, he'll think through what you asked of him when he's gone and come back with a plan the next time he visits

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?): one or two solid rounds, the foreplay lasts longer than then act itself

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?): really really likes the idea of them, he won't bring them up by himself, but if you tell him you own some, he'll ask you to tell him how you use them exactly, do you think of him, he'll jokingly ask you if he should be intimidated as his fingers climb their way up and inside your thighs, in the end after he's thought about it a bit or a lot, he'll ask you to bring them out next time

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease): he loves fingering you, half the fun is shoving his fingers inside of you, feeling around for that spot that makes you twitch beneath him or on his lap, he is extremely skilled with his hands and he loves proving it over and over, he is also absolutely a pussy slapper, has you spread out on his lap, back against his chest, thighs kept apart by his own legs, he starts off gently, and then he gets quite mean with it, until he can feel your wetness on his entire palm and you are clawing at his forearm

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.): he groans and grunts, his voice deep and gravely when he feels you around him, he curses and dirty talks like its his job

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character): loves kissing, you are the bravest soldier if what you have with him is casual, he makes it so difficult to not think he's in love with you with the way he kisses, always chasing your mouth, holding your face between his hands, breathing against your lips, telling you you drive him insane as he pulls your hand to his cock

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes): he has a nice cock, a grower, straight with a pretty pink head, it fills up his fist nicely when he holds it for you

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?): he only lets himself think of you on his down time, when he is doing paperwork, when he's resting at night in his room lonely in his bed, when he can light a cigarette, palm himself through his pants and wonder when he can drop in to see you again

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards): he takes his time, almost as if stalling, waiting for you to go to sleep first, he'll let you talk, then he'll wander around the room aimlessly, go smoke, go to the bathroom, if you are not asleep by the time he comes back he might start another round, if you are he finally joins you, hugging you from behind and holding you the entire night

#russel adler #russel adler smut #russel adler x reader #call of duty smut #call of duty x reader #call of duty cold war #call of duty cold war smut #call of duty cold war x reader #call of duty #russell adler #russell adler x reader #russell adler smut #.writing

[mariariley]

Russell Adler x reader

✪ relationship headcanons ✪

2nd person

female reader

NSFW warning

Word count: 1.1k

masterlist || have a request/ask? Here are the rules <3

He prefers keeping it professional so he would never date a woman that works with him

In his free time he tends to approach a stunning woman he sees sitting alone at a bar. He's respectful and would only aim for single girls (even though he can definitely steal bitches-)

He would make cheeky jokes about his ex-wife, spontaneously letting you know he's single as well

He prefers his girl loyal and respectful because that's all he is. He also doesn’t like envious women

His way of flirting is very casual. He can "rizz you up" without even trying, make your cheeks glow bright red with a single sentence

He's quite experienced and definitely knows what he's doing. He doesn't mind age gaps as long as they're legal

I would say he's quite picky actually. He goes for the looks, elegant or unique, independent, anything that can tell him that you're sticking out in a way

He's very good at reading people so with merely a small talk he can tell if you're worth his time or no, if you're, how he likes saying, "just a pretty face"

As your partner he's very old school and passionate

Doesn’t mind if you’re just a housewife, that’s kinda his jam anyway

He likes using nicknames such as “doll face”, “sweetie” and the classic American husband one: “honey”

He would strictly keep you out of his work, not keeping you informed at all. He would claim the only thing you should know is if he's alive or not

On longer, more serious missions you two could end up out of contact for weeks just because his job requires so (which might cause arguments just like with his ex-wife)

He loves when he comes home after a hard day and you greet him with warm dinner. He would always reward you for that

He likes buying you stuff, nothing too expensive but still not affordable for everyone. He just loves spoiling you

Perhaps he would think about marriage a bit too quickly. He's a divorced (traditional) middle aged man after all, he would love to put a ring on you to mark a new fresh start and leave everything he has with his ex-wife behind

He isn't crazy about having children but wouldn't mind becoming a family man. Nevertheless, it is not that easy considering his job so the agreement on forming a family might take time (only if you want kids that is. If not, no forcing)

In bed he likes taking it slowly. He's very passionate and likes making it hot and intense

Taking his sweet sweet time, showing you all experience he's got, somewhat edging you the whole time would always make you arch your back and grab onto his hair in heavy overstimulation every time

He likes oral, prefers rather giving than receiving. It’s crazy what his tongue can do

Loves women’s breasts. Doesn’t matter what size, he just loves them in general, his favorite part to kiss (and collarbone and shoulders)

He prefers missionary so he can kiss you all over and have a proper look at you. He always whispers how good and tight you feel around him or: "You're taking it so well, sweetie", "That's my sweet girl"

He also likes the spooning position where he gets to hold your leg up

He especially loves doing the "exhausting" cowgirl when he's already drained your battery with a heated session of rough thrusts. He'd just lay back, smoke his cigarette and enjoy the view of your legs trembling while struggling to ride his girthy cock

"Come on, honey, just a little longer" he'd encourage you with a sly smile on his face

He loves when you moan his name or just Adler. Considering that's what they call him at work, it would really get him going, making him feel dominant

When you'd moan his last name he would grab a fistful of your hair, grope you tighter and go rougher, perhaps leave a couple of hickeys on your neck, breasts and collarbone

Sometimes he likes bending you over his office desk and make you take it from behind as he'd, as usual, smoke a cigar while giving you backshots

He would grab your chin or hair, making you look at him over his shoulder. He loves seeing your uncontrollable expressions of pleasure while hitting your g-spot over and over again, telling you how beautiful you look

He never pulls out. If you're having unprotected sex, he loves looking at his hot sperm leaking out of your gapping, pulsing pussy (excuse my language)

He would make sure you're clean and comfortable after, always keeping your limp body in his arms while smoking yet another for complete pleasure. That cigarette after sex is like a cherry on top for him

Speaking of being clean, he's a king of hygiene. His hair is always shiny and soft, his clothes always fresh out the closet and, of course, an expensive cologne is a must

He has very strong body and facial hair so his beard grows back quickly. When he's at home he always takes care of it, every third or fourth night a soothing smell of aftershave fills your nostrils

It's difficult for him to be 100% precise considering his deep facial scars so sometimes he cuts himself by accident. He loves when you take care of the small cuts

Speaking of which, you're the only one he allows to touch his scar. He loves when you kiss it and admire it

He's a fan of beauty marks, especially if you have any on your face. He will kiss all of them, maybe even count them for fun

He loves playing with your hair, brushing it, braiding it, anything really. He thinks women's most beautiful (physical) features are their hair and smile (also loves when women wear strong lipsticks, red is his favorite color)

If you wear glasses, expect him to buy you bunch of expensive frames. Glasses are his passion, he would even buy you sunglasses to match his

Big fan of jewelry, especially necklaces and earrings. On a mission in another country, when he'd walk past a jewelry shop, he would always stop and take a look

He's a nightmare for every jewelry shop because he is picky and he will make the employees turn the whole thing upside down, trying to find a perfect piece for you

"Honey, I'm home! And I brought you something~" would be the well known greet whenever he comes home from a long mission

He might be a reserved man but that isn't stopping him from putting his job aside just for a little while and treat you with honesty and passion

In fact, he fears something will happen to you if anyone finds out you're his s/o. He's secretly very paranoid he's putting you in danger by just having you in his life

Dividers by @firefly-graphics 🥀

#russell adler #russell adler x reader #russell adler headcanons #russell adler x you #russell adler x y/n #black ops cold war #cod cold war #cold war #call of duty cold war #call of duty black ops #cod bocw #call of duty #call of duty headcanons #call of duty x reader #cod cold war x reader #cod x reader #russell adler smut #cod smut

[ineylesian]

$TING — GRAVES & ADLER

KINKTOBER PROMPTS | Interrogation

AO3 | MASTERLIST | KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

DEBRIEF | Graves’ and Adler’s means of getting information out of you.

WARNINGS | smut, finger fucking, light choking, use of aphrodisiac, depiction of an unhealthy relationship, fem! reader.

NOTE | this is me holding back from writing Graves & Adler smut where they just bully the reader,, thinking about it but i have self control… included adler for the small handful of people who love him as much as i do 🫶

ADVISORY | NSFW CONTENT BELOW.

GRAVES, FOXY & ADAMANT.

“Didn’t expect to see you out here, sugar.”

His figure is barely visible, carolina hues basking in feverish light. You nearly wince at his tone, all too familiar— memories rush back and you scowl his way.

“Didn’t expect you to chase a paycheck.” You fire back, hands rubbing against thick cord. “You’ve changed.”

Graves steps forward, swallowing the light, staring you down like he’s picked up the scent of prey on the wind. Dust swirls through the air as he bends over, face stopping mere inches from yours. His tongue pokes at the hollow of his cheek, eyebrows knit together, watching.

Something in him still doesn’t understand it. Traces of his life he’s desperately chased whole, right where he wants you. However, something’s different this time. When he looks in your eyes, he can only see the enemy staring back.

It pushes him to no end. Control slips away from his hands and just as he thinks he’s getting somewhere, the chair you sit on hits the floor loudly and you’re pinned against the wall. He sees you smile and his grip tightens, closing around your throat in an attempt to kill the remains of you that float amidst his head.

You keep looking at him, and his resolutions fall against the floor he stands on. The gleam in your eyes reflects off of years passed, and he senses the approach you take before you speak.

“You’re Shepherd’s bitch, Graves.”

Playing dirty, as always.

“I’m no one’s bitch. But you…?” The reply pools off of his lips, cool and relaxed, running a hand down your neck. “Still miss me, Mrs. Graves?”

He smirks, lightly jingling your dog tags.

“You got yourself caught.”

You scoff, shifting against the wall. Graves’ thigh pushes against your pelvis, keeping you in place.

“Wouldn’t have been any fun if you never got what you were looking for.”

His head tilts to the side, eyeing you carefully.

“Are you saying I wouldn’t have been able to find you?”

You lean forward, lips brushing against his. Danger flicks between your gazes, but he doesn’t push away.

“I’m telling you.”

Graves’ lips are rough, as is the grip that holds you against concrete. You writhe in his grasp, moving so your arms can hook around his neck. Gunpowder kisses your tongue, the scent of war tickling your nose as he kisses you. Light stubble scratches your skin, opposed to the clean shave you feel in your dreams.

You allow him to strip you of your belt, canines pressing against the inner flesh of your mouth when he tugs at your fly. A smile creeps along his face, pulling away from your lips to study your face. You’re nearly the same as he remembers, so dangerous, yet holding the same dumbstruck look in your eyes whenever he touches you.

“Ever thought of renewing your vows?”

Rough, padded fingers circle around your clit as he tugs his other gloves off. The noise that comes out of you is caught between a laugh and a moan. Graves smirks at the sound, breath pooling against your neck as he replaces his gloved hand with his bare one.

“Maybe.” You shrug, groaning at the sudden intrusion of his fingers against your cervix. “What’s my price?”

Graves’ fingers rub your walls, and you start to burn up. You direct your gaze to his face, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as his dick considers your question. Sweat gathers at your temple, and you bite down on your hand when he adds another finger.

It feels like it did 10 years ago. You and your husband, holed up in a shitty base in a shitty town fucking like it’s your last day on earth. You reminisce on those days often, back when Graves was still a marine and had a ring sitting on his finger. Back when Shepherd was off his radar, before he took you off of his too.

He looks slightly older; scar lighter on his skin and faint wrinkles crawling against the corners of his eyes. The way he fucks you is still the same, impatient and needy, just how you like it.

Before you know it, your abdomen feels likes it’s twisting into knots and you cry out from the pleasure. A low groan pushes its way out of his throat, canines fastened to his lower lip as his fingers pump in and out of your pussy.

“Another round, maybe?” He grunts out, mindlessly pushing his erection against your naval. “That’s cheap, ain’t it darlin’?”

ADLER, DECEITFUL & COY.

“Package came in from labs, thought you’d wanna see it.”

You round the corner of the hall, seeing Adler perched up against the island in your kitchen. A small, plastic bag sits on the side nearing you, adorned with a CIA label.

“Huh.” You hum, pinching the seal between your fingers. “You know what it’s for?”

Adler shrugs, and you tilt your head in acknowledgment.

“Only one way to find out.”

You can feel Adler’s gaze on you, watching through a pair of clear lensed aviators. He’s leaning against the edge of the counter, seemingly over interested in the contents of the bag. A light crackle emanates from the bag as you open it, and you’re hit with a puff of a silver toned dust.

“Jesus.” You cough, subconsciously dropping the bag to wave a hand through the air. “What the Hell is this, Russ?”

Adler stays quiet, perched up against the wall with his hands folded between his chest. His lack of response tells you all that you need to know, and you scoff.

Then the worry sets in.

You feel a subtle heat crawling up your arms, seemingly moving its way up to your face through your veins. Within seconds, your entire body behinds to tingle. Your body feels hot, almost like you’re covered in layers that are glued to your skin.

The world is loud, nerves burning against your spinal cord as confusion races through your mind. You run your hands through your hair, feeling a distinct sensation pool in your abdomen; it takes root, leaking down to your naval.

Through the rushes of blood in your head, you can hear Adler’s shoes click against the floor. The sound makes your stomach churn with need, and you look at him, standing just a few inches away.

“Adler..” You call, reaching out for him. “Something’s— wrong. Help me..”

You sway, losing balance and falling forward. Adler breaks your fall, holding you against the ridge of his turtleneck. You cling onto him as if you’ll die if you let go, eyes opening only when you feel yourself being set down on the couch.

Adler kneels in front of you, catching the hand that paws at his waist. He runs a hand along your face, lips quirking at the balm encasing his fingers. You reach out again, and he makes no motion to stop you.

“Didn’t see this as an interrogation drug.” He mumbles, allowing you to tug at his zipper. “Fuckin’ freaks.”

Your mind is completely lost to him, focused only on the hem of his jeans. An animalistic desire scalds your nerves, and you whine as he pushes you against the edge of the couch.

“It burns, Russ.” You groan, bucking your hips up as he moves to unbutton your jeans. “I need you…”

“You’ll be okay, sweetheart.”

His hands smooth over your pussy, fingers dragging over your clit, adding a teasing flick as he thinks. You lock your legs around his back, attempting to force him into you as your hands palm his dick. Adler clicks his tongue, slowly pushing one of his fingers into you, deciding to test the waters.

“What did you dream about last night?”

“You.” Your voice comes out strangled, practically squeezing his cock in desperation. “I always do.”

His eyebrows raise in interest, finding this drug more useful than dozens he’s used in the past. Shame it had to be tested on you, though. Or.. maybe he was enjoying this a little more than it seemed.

Adler lets you pull him forward, fingers pulling out of your pussy as you sloppily stuff yourself with his cock. He bites down on his cheek as you rut against his hips, searching for friction.

“Tell me,” He continues, placing a hand behind your back to guide you as he lays down. “What am I doing in your dreams?”

“You’re.. ugh— you’re fucking me, Russ.” You moan, dragging yourself down on his cock. “The real you never has time for me— anymore.”

He tilts his head at your confession, reaching over to the coffee table for a pack of cigarettes.

“We’ll see to that.”

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

#arqhms #🎃 arqhmskinktober23 #🎃 arqhmsfall23 #arqhmsthirst #call of duty modern warfare #graves x reader #phillip graves x reader #phillip graves smut #graves smut #russell adler #adler x reader #russell adler x reader #phillip graves #graves mw2 #call of duty cold war

[rascal-xo]

i swear i’m not ignoring anyone’s requests i’m getting to all of them i promise 😭

#call of duty #black ops cold war #call of duty modern warfare #cold war #russell adler #call of duty smut #frank woods #simon riley x you #fanfic #ghost x female reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #modern warfare smut #russell adler x fem!reader #russell adler x reader #simon riley imagine #alex mason #captain price

[yanderestarangel]

Yandere Adler Russell ☆

Tw: Yandere themes.

Yandere Adler Russell! Who will spoil you with gifts and sweet words like "My good boy.","You are so good to me...","I want you here so bad baby please I need you." Yandere Adler Russell! Who will protect you from the whole world by placing you as a beautiful and rare sculpture in his farmhouse away from everyone and everyone, no one will even know about you, he can't take that risk of trying to take your sweet treasure.

Yandere Adler Russell ! Who just wants you to behave and know your place, you just have to not try to run away, Adler won't ever, ever hit you. On the contrary he lets you hit him if your frustrated or angry he understands but will never lift a finger at you but nothing stops him from doing worse darling things.

Yandere Adler Russell ! Who buys everything you want, you just have to ask lovingly and make the pout that only you know, if you do, it's yours.

Yandere Adler Russell ! Who loves when you call him "Daddy", "My Lord", "Owner", "My darling." He'll never make you call him that, but if you do, he'll practically melt in your hands right then and there.

Bonus: If you call him that in sex he'll come right away.

Yandere Adler Russell ! Who fucks you all over the house, making you ride him with all the power in your hips, (Like I said, he won't force you into anything, but this man is so charming and seductive, you'll bend to him.) He loves to see you on top of him, fuck in the sunset it's practically routine for you two, he doesn't have as much breath because of the cigarette but it sure lasts practically 2 rounds in a row. He also loves to fuck you from behind, shoving it in your hole while holding your waist tightly burying you even more, definitely

Yandere Adler Russell ! He'll mark you completely, hickeys, spankings and bruises will be routine on your skin, he'll take good care of you afterward, telling you how much he loves you and showering you with compliments as he takes your shivering body to the bathroom.

Yandere Adler Russell ! That he will never let you escape, he knows that deep down you still want your freedom but you can't let the only spark in your life go away just like that. He will gently talk to you and ask you not to do anything stupid or rash and that everything he did and does is to keep you safe with him by your side.

Yandere Adler Russell ! That if you really want to try to run away, in a lot of pain it will chase you all over the forest at night, finding you in a matter of seconds and taking you by the wrist, trying not to squeeze so hard, it will also be the only time you will scream at you. He'll apologize when you get home, bandage your wrist and kiss away your tears, saying it was impossible for you to leave his side.

Yandere Adler Russell ! That if you really manage to escape (luckily) you'll go into despair and call all your contacts, did you really forget? He's America's fucking monster, you won't find shelter or employment, your face will be in multiple intelligences and you won't be able to escape, if you're still lucky, and find some friend to give you shelter you're plotting a death horrendous for him, Adler will do nothing to you but torture his friend to death in the worst possible ways.

Yandere Adler Russell ! Who surrounded his friend's house with several armed men and cars everywhere, he would talk on the intercom for you to leave if you didn't want your friend to die or for him to hand you over and take your freedom, he didn't call Russell crazy, soon you saw someone come in and lock you up, taking your friend dragged away still alive. You would wake up being carried by Russell, blood all over him, with a cigarette in his lips soon waking you up, he would happily explain that your friend endured 13 hours of torture alive and that it was your fault for being so naughty. You couldn't do anything, if you tried again more people would suffer, deciding to just accept their fate at Russell Adler's side, until the end of their days.

#Adler Russell #cold war #call of duty #call of duty cold war #russell adler #cod #call of duty fandom #call of duty headcanons #yandere #yandere male #yandere call of duty #yandere adler russell #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #gn reader #imagine #headcanon #yandere headcanons #call of duty smut #ftm reader #male reader #male reader x male character #call of duty x male reader

[xappetites]

one thing leads to another

Russell Adler x f!Reader (Bell) | Adler is half convinced Bell's using tenderness as a battering ram on purpose, he also needed someone to understand him more than he would ever admit, shit's fucked but that's par for the course, as always i sort of added a year between finding Bell and the rest of the game | word count: 1,672

London is a mess, but then again, all cities are. And this one has the benefit of both being friendly ground but not exactly home, in case the whole thing goes sideways. 

Besides, it’s not like Adler’s an amateur. He wouldn’t have started this game without the certainty that he’d be able to handle it, roll with all of the possible outcomes. 

No, this was calculated. 

He purposely picked the side of town where metro police drag their feet, no matter how urgent the call. And he’s carrying a trusty sedative in a hypodermic needle retrofitted into a pen, so all he really needs to worry about is Bell.

Quite frankly, Bell’s all he’s been worrying about for the past eight months, though for the most part he can justify it as just another job hazard. The rest he blames on being a sexually active human with an average libido and moderately good circulation. 

Sure, he’s seen her bleeding out, sweat drenched and bruised from several rounds of interrogation. Feverish, mumbling, staring into his soul like she could tear into him with her eyes alone. And she still slides silk soft over the ridges of his brain.

It was easy to ignore, all things considered; in that dark room with nothing but the microphone and the bell. To watch her, past whatever attraction he can’t shake, looking closely for results. But now she’s out in the world, fully convinced that she’s known him for decades; now she remembers a different Russell Adler. The one he was before the crooked line of his life proved to him that he wasn’t one for an easy ride; the man who would banter mid firefight, with the kind of gusto that makes him roll his eyes coming from Park and Lazar over comms. 

And sure, that means she’s comfortable enough to follow his instructions without much back-talk and she's amenable enough that she’ll take initiative to do what’s best for the mission on her own. She’s efficient and useful; and she claws that old playfulness out of him kicking and screaming. Even if he tries to resist, to ignore her easy jabs, the gallows humor, it’s those damn eyes and the light of affection in them that forces him to respond just to focus on something else.

It’s so obvious that even Sims commented on it, how he hadn’t heard chatter like that from him in years. So maybe that’s why Adler wanted this meeting to be private; why he asked Bell to slip away from Park when he called. Selling it as an added challenge when he dared her to find him in London with nothing to go on but the arrival time of his flight. A test of skill and loyalty.

Just as Park’s had Bell here for a week. Officially, for a briefing of the few leads MI6 has in Berlin. Off the record, offering proof of concept to the powers that be: one shining, sweet success to prove what programming can do. Work. That’s what’s behind Adler standing alone in a no name club, not the impulse to hog Bell all to himself, or the unspeakable notion that he misses her.

He’s too professional to let it show, and he knows what needs to be done, but that’s the filthy truth of him, the way his hands itch for skin on skin contact. The manufactured familiarity that allows her to touch him all the time —hands solid on his shoulders or her thigh pressed against his in the back of a cab. All the more tempting for being forbidden. More nagging in the back of his mind because he’s stealing her from the man he’s hunted for so long. 

The sensation makes Adler lay his palms flat on the bar top, check his watch. All he can do at the moment is wait. 

Two more minutes to his midnight meeting with Bell. Two minutes that are nothing in the grand scheme of his standing stakeout record of several months. Minutes that he watches tick like molasses over his wrist. Anticipation settling horrible in the pit of his stomach with the possibility that, once out of Park’s watchful eye, Bell will abscond back to Perseus. And won’t that be a fun one to explain. A betrayal he can already taste, that hurts in a way that it shouldn’t. Burning as it goes down like the whiskey that’s suddenly shoved his way over the bar. 

“I didn’t order this.”

“Your missus said you looked thirsty.”

The bartender tosses a wry smile his way too, nodding in the general direction of a very smug Bell. Who, at least, has the decency not to appear out of the smoke like this is a private eye movie, she just simply is there, close enough to touch, when she wasn’t the second before.

“You made it,” he greets her, watches her grin grow slow and tilted over her mouth. Her hips angled to squeeze in next to him, lean her weight on the bar and steal a sip off his drink. And Adler hates how proud he sounds, how his shoulders lose tension when she takes the first, poison-taster gulp of liquor like a half apology for ambushing him. 

“You doubted it?” 

“Park can be hard to sidestep.”

Bell outright giggles then, smile blinding in her satisfaction, but she doesn’t offer anything else. She won’t spoil the magician’s trick. 

“So what’s your story?” She asks instead, dipping closer still, until Adler can feel the ghostly touch of her hair against his cheek. “If this were to go tits up. Who are you tonight?”

“Well, you already told the bartender, I’m your husband.”

“Got you sore about that?”

There’s laughter in Bell’s voice, a tease of her fingertips straightening the collar of his jacket. Of course he’s fucking sore, with the way the thought goes right between his legs, aches in the pit of his stomach. Here with her lips on the rim of his glass, her body nudging insistently into his personal space like picking at a wound.

“Just wondering how believable it’d be for me to have a wife so beautiful.”

“Please, Russ, you’re the most attractive man I know.”

She moves, digging out a cigarette and flagging the bartender for an ashtray, and the extra inch of distance is such a deep relief that it takes Adler half a second to realize she’s smoking when they were supposed to have culled that out of her.

“I thought you’d quit,” he tries, as a thin, icy stream of uncertainty slides down his spine. He tries to be rational, smoking is the least dangerous of Bell’s old habits; complicated by the physiological dependence on nicotine to boot. This doesn’t have to be a sign of impending doom, he just has to keep an eye on it.

“In this line of work? It wasn’t meant to last,” she pauses, takes a drag and holds the smoke for long enough to notice she’s having his exact brand, familiar and comforting. “Besides, you give me cravings.”

The eyes, it’s always the fucking eyes. The way they catch on his scar, climbing along until she’s staring him down with nothing but open, honest desire, and a sort of sadness underneath. Like she’s given up on the magnetic pull she feels for him as soon as she admits to it.

Bell knows he’d put the job above anything, knows that’s what nuked his marriage. She knows because he told her, made her privy to things the likes of Sims only suspect. It was easy too, once he got started, to let the words get away from him; maybe not during the first session, but by the twentieth? The fiftieth? He’d find himself in the jungle of Vietnam and in the weeds of his personal hang ups all the same. 

We fought together, bled together. 

A mantra that to a degree poisoned him too. Enough to make him need this, once at the very least, to hold Bell steady by the back of the neck, tasting the smoke and the surprise on her lips. Then he has to do it again, since Bell’s crushing the cigarette out so she can pull herself closer by his lapels, run her fingers through his hair with a whisper of ‘fuck Russ’. And he is absolutely fucked in so many ways.

Fucked in the ease of walking beside her back to his hotel. And in how she sighs against his mouth when her cold hands sneak under clothes in the elevator. Adler feels his heart beating in double time as he finally works himself inside her, inch by inch so he can’t hide from this. He could regret it, he already does, as he struggles to make this last as long as he can, but he can never pretend it didn’t happen. 

He’ll always have the way she clings to him, his name stumbling out of her when he hits the angle that makes her melt, to weigh on his conscience. He’ll keep coming back to her shoulder, still slick from the shower as he rested his forehead on it, because that was the third time he’d come that night and it never lost its edge to feel her around him.

These are the things Adler knows will haunt him. Keep him up at night until he finds the next excuse to have her, in a different hotel and a different city, with the same burning desperation.

And it’s what he sees, clear as day, playing in her mind that night as he tries to drag Perseus’ location out of her. Every kiss and every single time he drew meaningless shapes over her skin while she was curled up against his side.

The way he demands the information but has not let go of her hand, the fact that they both know how this ends. And he can only fucking hope, with her brilliant eyes burning through him again, that she can forgive him for falling for her.

#m: cod #r: smut #russell adler x reader #russell adler x bell #personal #i want this man to be so down fucking bad he can't even live with himself #'it was never personal' my ass

[charcoalgrayswriting]

Found 18+ MDNI

Adler/Bell

No Warnings

Read on AO3 HERE!

Words: 4668

Summary: Adler finds Bell in hiding, and they talk. Takes place a few years after Solovetsky.

“Bell,” it wasn’t just the call of her old name that had her snapping her head up from the vegetable garden. No, it was the voice that called for her. With shaking hands, she turned face to face with her old hander, Russel fucking Adler. 

There he stood, infamous sunglasses still perched on his nose, his hands tucked safely into his leather jacket. Her stomach turned uncomfortably, the artificial trust and warring with her fear of him. 

“Adler,” her hands still shook as she tried to hold them still at her sides, the face she saw in her nightmares approached her, slowly, as if she were a wild animal that needed calming. Maybe she was. Her chest heaved as she stepped back, just now remembering to breathe, eyes darting wildly around to find any way to escape him, escape the false feeling of safety he made her feel. 

It was like seeing him again washed all of the training from her mind, leaving only panic in its wake, the phantom feeling of a needle in her eye and restraints against her wrists. 

Turning her head away from him, she tensed her body to run. She had become lax, the paranoia of the CIA finding and killing her had left after two years of living out in the middle of nowhere and she no longer carried a gun on her everywhere she went at home. How stupid. If she survived this she would not make that same mistake again. 

“No, wait,” he lunged for her just as she took a step back, catching her shaking arm in a firm, but gentle, grip. He pulled her close, so that her chest was to his back, twisting her arm in between their bodies. 

. “I’m not here to hurt you.” he whispered, nose bumping against her hair as he forced her to turn towards her house, prompting her to lead him into her sanctuary. And how she wished that were true and not just a ploy to get her to trust him. Some part of her did still trust him, and she hated it. She had fought so hard for her peace, and now he came back to shatter it. 

Enraged, she struggled, but she was out of practice. His other arm wrapped around her waist, and when she tried to flip him off of her, he slid a leg between hers and swept both of her feet out from underneath hers. Now the only thing supporting her, Adler leaned his head in close as she scrambled to stand on her own, his arm the only thing keeping her from hitting the ground. 

“Are you going to behave or not,” he breathed, allowing her to get her feet back underneath herself before nudging her towards the house again. Surprisingly, he was gentle with her. Or at least as gentle as he could be, restraining her as she fought against him with all her might. 

Defeated and nauseous as her lab grown emotions warred with her natural ones, she led him up the gravel path to her little cabin. It was nice and homey, perfect for one person trying to hide. She found herself wishing that she could fight him, but she was out of practice, if not out of shape. And she sincerely doubted that he had let himself grow lax the way she had, could feel the experience in the way he held her tight to him. 

Opening the door, she took in the small home as he urged her towards her sofa, past the oak table where she had stashed one of her hidden guns. Attempting to lunge for it was pointless, but she tried it anyway. She had to. 

Breaking Adlers grip on her was all muscle memory, though not entirely hers, and shocked the both of them before she was moving. Lurching towards the table, she made it two steps towards it before Adler had her restrained, one arm pinning hers to her sides wrapped around her to pin back against his chest. The other hand came up to rest gently on her neck, flexing in warning as he cut off her air for a few seconds. 

Not enough to actually hurt her, but enough to leave her gasping when he relaxed his hand. Dispassionately, he watched as her chest heaved, her mouth parted as she took in huge gulps of the cabin's warm air. 

She could feel her blood racing against his fingers as he simply held her, his thumb brushing her carotid artery as she stood stock still, not moving a muscle. Save for the trembling of her fucking hands. Damn him, apparently he still used the same cologne and smoked the same cigarettes, their combined scents made her feel safe, even as his hand was lethally wrapped around her neck. 

“Relax Bell, I don’t want to kill you.” Adler grumbled, breath ghosting her ear, and she had to concede to him that if he was sent to kill her, he would have probably done it by now and not bothered approaching her like this. 

“That’s not my name anymore,” she snapped without thinking before clamping her mouth shut with an audible click. 

He huffed a small laugh, and she felt a flash of pride before she tamped it down, “Oh? What are you going by these days?” He marched her to the sofa again, sitting her down beside him, slowly unwinding his arms from around her. It did not escape her attention that he made her sit the furthest away from the door, and she shuffled as far away from him as the sofa would allow. 

“Nadia.” she definitely raised her chin. Her defiance made him smile. So different, yet still the same. 

“So you did remember your name, I had wondered.” he muttered, his head tilted to the side. 

“Yes, well, without you and Park there to inject me with drugs, my mind became mine again.” a small white lie, she had not remembered everything, only had vague flashes of memories that felt less real than her fake memories, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Why are you even here?” she snapped, patience worn thin by fear. “You already failed to kill me once, and apparently you aren’t going to try again,” Nadia made a face as she rolled her eyes, telling him without words exactly how little she believed him. 

He didn’t respond to her anger, simply reached into his jacket and pulled out a file. It was thin, almost flat for how much information was probably inside. 

“We’ve been tracking someone we assume to be a defected Perseus cryptographer.” Nadia took the folder gently before snatching it away from him, like if she lingered too close he would hurt her again. Probably.  

Sighing through her nose she asked, “And what does this have to do with me?” she flipped through the dossier, fighting back a laugh. How clueless they still were. 

“We knew that a Russian had defected here, one who had been in Perseus’s… employ.” what a kind way to say that Nadia had been drafted into this stupid war against her will. First for the Russians and Perseus, and then for the Americans and Adler. She couldn’t fucking win. “The agency tracked rumors of an ex-Perseus agent to these parts, and thought you may’ve known the cryptographer. We didn’t know it was you though,” she gave him a look, scoffing at his heavy-handed attempt to gently pry the information from her. 

“Well,” she smirked up at him, her eyes alight with a challenging glare, “You’ve already found the cryptographer.” he looked at her, confusion on his face and she couldn’t help but revel in it. So few times did she remember Adler being confused. Not even in her false memories. 

“But we don’t know who–” he cut himself off, looking at her in a new light. Nadia wasn’t anything impressive at the minute, hadn’t been impressive in quite a while. A plain gray t-shirt and some dirt stained blue jeans over her muddy work boots painted the perfect picture of a fit but unassuming country girl, save for the scars that ran up and down her arms, but she could cover them with a jacket or sweater when she went into town. 

She only remembered gaining half of the scars. 

“It’s you,” he stated, locking eyes with her, and damn it after all this time he could still read her, and she was still in the dark. 

“I do what I can, when I can. But I will never be back in the field. The only time I pick up my gun now is to hunt for game.” Nadia smiled, harsh and sarcastic as she watched Adler sit back, still surprised. 

“We thought you were dead.” She heard the words he didn’t say, I thought you were dead. Her heart gave a pang at the false trust and… other emotions they had forcefully instilled in her. 

“Yes, well, you shot me in the chest like an idiot instead of shooting me in the head.” She shrugged as she rolled her eyes. “Didn’t even stick around to confirm the kill.” 

Adler shrugged, “Guess it’s a good thing I did. You’ve been very helpful to us with those decryptions of yours.”

Smiling, Nadia opted not to tell him that it was her who created those codes. That she had been one of Perseus’s best and that was why she rose so quickly through the ranks, despite her reluctance. “I guess so.” After all, she had to keep some of her cards to herself, right?

“It would be in your best interest to consider joining the CIA, you know the procedure and all of our taglines, so I won’t bore you with it.” 

“Why? Not just gonna inject me with more drugs and tell me we’ve got a job to do?” she snapped, leaning away from him as he scooted closer.

“No, that has been proven to be too unreliable.” he chuckled, looking at her pointedly, extending a hand, palm up. “We have other measures of making people cooperate, now, that are far more effective.” and Nadia heard the threat for what it was.

“Oh? Well, I guess I’ll never know” she sighed, handing the folder back to him. “I can continue my work here. All I need is a radio, a pencil, and paper. I have all that.” she gestured towards her desk where the radio sat, surrounded by mounds of paper. 

“I want to take you back to Langley with me.” Nadia’s eyes snapped back to Adler as he sat the file on the coffee table, a snort leaving her before she could stop it. Realizing he was serious, she grew angry again. 

“Kiss my ass.” she laughed, shaking her head, “My corpse wouldn’t let you take me back there.” 

“Yeah, figures you wouldn’t wanna go back,” he muttered. “You don’t get a choice though. We can’t protect you all the way out here.” he gestured around her house, small and in a remote part of Nebraska. 

“I’ve done fine so far.” Nadia insisted angrily gesturing. 

“So far, no one knows you exist.” he countered, beginning to show anger as well. 

“And it will stay that way!”

“Not for long, it’s only a matter of time before the Russians find you.” 

“Well then do your damn job and keep them from finding me!” she yelled at him, throwing her hands up in the air. 

“That’s why I want to take you back with me dammit!” he shouted back, and for a second, she was taken back to one of her memories, of him standing over her yelling at her to tell her about Perseus. Flinching, she shakes herself. 

“No, I will be staying here! You don’t get to walk in here and demand things of me! Not after everything I’ve done and everything I continue to do!”

“Nadia,” his voice was calm and even, face smoothing out, and she knew what was coming next. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way but either way, you will be coming with me, back to Langley. How we get there is entirely up to you.”

She stayed silent, glaring at him as he smirked at her. It made her want to hit and kiss him in equal measure. 

For a few minutes the pair sat in silence, Adler allowing her to get used to the idea of leaving. No matter how much she wanted to stall, they both knew that she would be going back with him. He was preset to win. 

Nadia felt the sting of tears in her eyes, and blinked rapidly as she looked around at her cabin, at the life she had built for herself. She knew, eventually, that if the CIA had found her, Perseus would find her. And she didn’t know how he would react to seeing her alive after all she did to harm the cause. 

Well, it’s as they say. The devil you know. 

“Okay,” she whispered, voice small and defeated as she slumped, running a dirt-streaked hand through her sweat-dried hair. 

“Good girl,” her head whipped up, pupils dilated as she remembered the last time he called her that, the sound of their breaths mingling and the feel of him inside of her making her back arch and toes curl as he played her body like a fiddle. 

“Don’t do that,” Nadia whispered, voice rough. 

“Don’t do what?” grinning, he slid closer to her, touching their thighs together, wrapping one arm behind her on the sofa. 

“You know what.” she snapped defensively, attempting to move further away from him, and running out of sofa. 

Adler watched her shrink in on herself with a frown. “You always enjoyed our time together.”

“That was before,” rasped Nadia, not making eye contact, even when he took both of her hands in his, forcefully uncurling her fingers from the meat of her palms. She hadn’t even noticed that she was digging them into it. 

“We had so much fun together. Don’t wanna relive it? For old times sake?” It was Nadia’s turn to laugh at him. “You’re not that sentimental. Try again.” 

Sighing, Adler stared at her, contemplating before he answered, “Ah, you know me too well.” 

“I do, I have your memories, and have had a lot of time to analyze them. So tell me the truth.” 

“Well,” he almost seemed embarrassed as he continued, scratching at his cheek. “It is very rare in our line of work to find a woman who knows what you do, and still chooses to sleep with you.” with a smirk he looked her up and down, lingering on her breasts. 

A nice sentiment, but she didn’t believe him for a second. “It’s a conflict of interest.” Nadia stated, voice flat, even as she could feel her body reacting to his words, the blush rising on her traitorous cheeks. 

He snorted. “You didn’t care before.”

“Well that might have something to do with the fact that I didn’t know you brainwashed me.” 

“Yeah I imagine that would put a fucking dampener on things.” Still, he didn’t let go of her, just continued to stare at her. 

“What if I say no?” she questioned, looking up at him warily. 

“Then I let go and we forget this ever happened. Rape doesn’t do it for me,” he stated, completely unphased. 

They sat there like that, for an undetermined amount of time. Adler just held her close in a gentle grasp, something Nadia could easily break if she wished. 

“Okay,” she whispered, slowly leaning into his chest, tucking her head under his chin as she relaxed, boneless, against him. She knew this was just a manipulative ploy to win her back, and was under no illusions that he cared. Not like last time, when she had thought they were two old friends comforting each other. 

“Just like that?” he muttered amused, letting go of one of her hands to card his fingers through her hair, sliding his hand down to cup her chin, tilting her face towards him with a gentle grip. 

“It’s very hard to find someone to fuck that won’t ask questions about my scars,” Nadia muttered, the real reason why she agreed to this. If there was one thing Adler was good at, it was sex, and she planned to take full advantage. 

“Oh?” he frowned again, the other hand trailing down her bare scarred arm before it settled on her hip. 

“On men, scars are sexy, mysterious.” she gestured towards his face, watching as the conflict passed over it, “On women?” she scoffed before continuing bitterly. “Well most men, at least civilians, find it intimidating at best, and a major turnoff at worst. The best I could hope for was a quick, unsatisfying fuck in an alleyway.” 

Smirking salaciously down at her Adler responded, “Guess I just have to fix that,” and before Nadia could counter, his mouth was on hers. Their kiss was not soft and gentle, but a clashing of teeth and tongues as they both fought for control of it. Sneakily moving his hands down her back, he kneaded at the tense muscles he found there and she moaned into their kiss, momentarily caught off guard. 

But Nadia’s hands were moving too, one wrapping around his neck to play with his annoyingly perfect hair, the other sliding up his back and untucking his white button down from his jeans to trace the sensitive scars she found there. 

His hands tracing her waist, Adler gripped her tight before he lifted her off the sofa and into his arms. Yelping into the kiss, she wrapped her legs around his middle, her hands scrambling to wrap around his shoulders, tangling into his light hair. 

Neither one broke the kiss as Adler carried her towards her bedroom, not stopping to ask for instructions, both groaning as he licked into her mouth. 

Nadia broke the kiss with a scowl,“How do you know where my bedroom is?” she panted out as she began to lay hickeys along his neck, just above where she knew his collar covered, the hand in his hair knocking his infamous shades off and somewhere onto the floor. 

Laughing, Adler groaned, “Found your house’s blueprints,” and didn’t even pause his confident stride, despite his sudden loss of his sunglasses, kicking her door open before he gently laid her back on the plush bed, letting her legs dangle over the edge. 

Standing, he gazed down at her, pupils blown and cock already beginning to harden in his jeans. Nadia just stared up at him, feeling herself getting wet as she took in the sight of his messy hair and rumpled polo shirt. Such a contrast from how he appeared in most of her memories. 

“Look at you,” towering over her, he made quick work of her old belt, tossing it somewhere in her room before popping the button on her dirt-stained blue jeans. “Last chance to stop me,” Adler smirked down at her, licking his lips. 

She tracked the movement of his tongue with her dark eyes, and smirked. “Give it your best shot, old man.”

“I’m only three fucking years older than you,” he grumbled, kneeling to take off her boots and socks before Adler slid her jeans off, leaving her in just her panties and top. 

“Beautiful,” he whispered, sliding her top over her head, groaning at the sight of her nearly naked, trailing his fingers along her collarbones before pulling her bra off. It shouldn’t be such a major turn on, him being fully clothed with her naked in front of him. 

“Bet you– shit!” she gasped, unable to snark him as he touched her through her underwear, rubbing slow circles over her clit, feeling the uncomfortable dampness of her underwear growing. 

“What was that?” he laughed, pulling her panties off and tossing them in the same direction as her shirt and pants, not entirely unaffected as he panted slightly, “You didn’t get to finish.” he moved back between her legs, his left hand coming up to hold her hip still. 

Returning his hand to her cunt, Adler moved his callused middle finger against her folds, pressing in slowly, teasing her. 

With a moan, Nadia fisted her hands in her quilt, attempting to shift her hips against Adlers skilled hand, but he held her down. 

“It must have been a long time for you to be reacting like this,” murmuring, Adler circled her clit with his thumb while adding his ring finger. 

“Please don’t fuck with me right now.” she grunted, wrenching her eyes open and making eye contact with him. 

“My pleasure,” and crooked his fingers expertly, finding that spot inside of her that so few men knew about, much less were able to find. 

“Fuck!” she shouted, pleasure racing through her as Nadia clenched down on his fingers, arching her back. 

“There we go,” he whispered, leaning in close to her, pressing a kiss to the old wound on her chest from where he shot her. “Just like that.” she watched him look up at her, smirking as he licked the old scar. 

She laid there, gasping for breath as Adler continued to expertly finger her, stretching her slow and thorough, just like he had back then. With a whine, she grabbed his messy hair, pulling him up towards her. 

“Needy are you?” he smirked as she pulled him in for a kiss, fingers not faltering inside her for a second. 

“Please,” she gasped, Russian accent thickening as he inserted a third finger, kissing down her neck, leaving behind inconveniently placed hickeys, just like she had. 

“Please what?” he mocked, allowing her to draw his shirt over his head, flinging it in the opposite direction of her clothes. 

Nadia panted as she drifted closer to her orgasm, his hand an iron brand inside of her and on her hip, “Please just fuck me you absolute jackass!” 

Chuckling, Adler crooked his fingers, and suddenly she was crying out as she saw stars behind her eyes. “Well since you asked so nicely,” focusing on her pleasure, he massaged her clit with his thumb, thrusting his fingers in and out, smirking as she clenched down on him.

Reduced to nothing more than the lewd noises she was making, Nadia grabbed his hair again, getting a rare breathy moan from Adler, who allowed her to pull him up and into a steaming kiss. Her other hand clawed down his back, leaving red welts in her wake. 

His fingers picked up the pace, and the pleasure that had been building inside of her snapped. Crying out, her back bowed off the bed, mouth slack with pleasure as her hands fisted against Adler’s body, leaving red lines and pulling at his hair. 

“Fuck,” she breathed into his mouth as he fingered her through the aftershocks of her orgasm. 

She whined when Adler pulled his fingers out from inside of her and stood back, but she wouldn’t be left empty for long. Using the hand that was covered in her juices, he slicked up his cock, smirking down at her. 

“Gonna just stand there?” Nadia mocked, still panting like she had run a marathon. 

Not bothering to respond, Adler just laughed, wrapping her legs around his waist before shoving his hands under her back. He lifted her up, ignoring her shriek, and tossed her further up the bed. 

Laughing, he knelt between her legs, lining up his cock with her entrance. For a moment, he stayed like that, just staring down at her, his thick head brushing up against her clit. It sent small shocks through her tired body, and he smirked. 

Before she could tell him to hurry up, Adler was pushing inside of her. The acidic words died on her tongue. All that left her was a breathy whine as she clawed at him again, the heels of her feet digging into his lower back, urging him deeper. He wasn’t fairing much better. 

A low groan was ripped from his throat as Adler fully sheathed himself inside her, bending over her body as he stilled. 

“You feel just as good as I remember,” he muttered into Nadia’s ear. Before her mind could catch up with her mouth and demand answers, he was leaning back and slamming into her again. 

Soon, any thoughts she had disappeared in favor of the pleasure again building inside of her. One of his hands found her clit, the other molded itself to her waist, pulling her into him. 

Soon the room was filled with the rhythmic slapping of skin against skin, and their moans, pulled from the depths of their chests. 

Nadia could feel that coil of pleasure tightening in her stomach, and she clenched down on Adler’s cock as he hit that pleasurable spot inside of her. Chasing his own pleasure, he sped up. 

Finally, with one last thrust, he came deep inside of her. The feeling of his warm cum flooding her had Nadia’s back arching in her second orgasm. Panting, Adler fucked them through the aftershocks. 

She laid there, gasping for breath as she came back down from her post orgasmic high. Slowly, Adler slid his cock out from inside of her, rolling onto his side. He threw an arm over Nadia’s stomach and pulled her in close, tucking her head under his chin. 

Blushing, she felt a mixture of his cum and her fluids leak out of her cunt, groaning as he swept a finger through it, licking it off like it was a special treat.  

“Go grab a towel you fucking perv.” she grumbled, closing her eyes as Nadia’s muscles continued to shake, this time not from fear, but from ecstasy. 

Adler groaned, “You’re so goddamn bossy,” he complained, but complied, padding towards her bathroom in search of a towel to clean them up. While he was away, Nadia felt herself growing tired, and her eyelids fluttered shut. 

So tired apparently, that she didn’t hear Adler come back, only registered he was in the same room as her when the bed dipped, startling her back awake. Eyes flying open, Nadia looked up at him, holding her pale green washcloth in his hand, his expression uncharacteristically gentle. 

Nadia didn’t trust it, and she squinted up at him as he began to clean her, slowly wiping down her legs and stomach. Well, essentially massaging her, running one of his rugged hands over her damp skin to check for any leftover residue. 

Once he had finished, Nadia felt him shuffle her around, and realized he was pulling the sheets of her bed back so that she could nap in them. 

Eyes listing closed as he tugged the covers over her, she felt him grab one of her hands in his, beginning to wipe it down with the cloth. Slowly and thoroughly, he cleaned her palm, the soft fibers of the washcloth wiping away any residual stickiness. Adler paid attention to every single finger, before he dropped the hand and repeated the same process on the next one. 

Halfway asleep, Nadia cracked an eyelid to look at him, looking at the conflicted expression on his face as he set the washcloth to the side. Grumbling, she lifted one of her arms, an invitation to him to come join her under the covers. 

Adler made a quiet happy noise, before shuffling into bed in front of her, wasting no time in situating her head under his chin. Both of his arms encircled her and pulled Nadia in closer to his chest. 

Humming, Nadia breathed deeply snuggling into him, ignoring the way her common sense was screaming in the back of her mind. But she was so comfortable and warm, lounging in Adler's arms as he held her close to his chest. 

Was it smart? No. Was it safe? Absolutely not. 

But she liked it, and even though she knew better, Nadia couldn’t stop herself from falling asleep next to him. 

Banner from @cafekitsune

#18+ mdni #bell x adler #cod black ops cold war #call of duty black ops #russell adler #russel adler #bell cod #call of duty #black ops cold war #cod cold war #smut

[bambimeadows]

A small reader x Adler thing I whipped up. It’s not my best work, the writing is a bit stripped back, I haven’t put too much effort into it, so it is messy and a bit simple and rushed🙃 But I haven’t posted any writing to tumblr yet, so here you are. Reader is gender neutral (tried my best but let me know of any errors) you’re basically a rookie spy at the BND 🕵️🕵️‍♂️ There is some vague, non explicit sort of smut. Have fun! 💕

Three years ago, when you were a rookie, fresh out the womb of the government’s BND training programme, you had met him while you were shadowing one of the organisations top agents.

He hadn’t even taken the liberty of addressing you directly when the three of you met in the abandoned train tunnels, but he had peered at you from behind his shades, those black, sepia tinged squares of glass and gave you a singular firm nod. It was because he knew your weakness, he could discern your current standings, he smelled it on you like tigers did prey, you might as well have been a tiny, delicate, dainty wobbly legged fawn stumbling along after your handler as if they were mama Deer.

You were a sharper blade now though, sturdier and pluckier in every sense of the word.

Adler needn’t be a source of trepidation, he was an associate and you would be liaising with him for the sake of your job and the free world. You had been trusted to do so, albeit with the less than encouraging words, “Do not embarrass us, agent. You know who he is.”

Indeed you did, in the small inner circles of the BND, the man was a legend. You were privileged just to know he existed.

And here he sat in the Heidelberg, his long limbs sprawled out and propped up leisurely on the small red arm chair. He was slotted into the corner of the joint, at a small round table, another chair sat vacant opposite him. You glance at it with wash and swirl of dread in your belly before you powered forward, penetrating the cloudy hive of collective smoke from the patrons. Adler seemed to be contributing to the smog heartily as he huffed away, letting fluid like clouds billow from his lips with artistic flair and grace.

He did not acknowledge that he had seen you initially, he merely nodded, ever so slightly, to the seat opposite him.

“You’re early,” he comments flippantly, scratching a long, thin hand across his jaw absentmindedly, a hearty earthy sound emitted when he did this due to the faded stubble adorning his visage.

He had been clean shaven last time indeed, you only remembered due to your razor sharp attention to detail, not because you had been particularly fixated on his face and the terrains and markers that pieced it together.

And if you kept telling yourself that you might start to believe it.

You had forgotten however, the exceptional depth and richness of his vocal chords, like an abyss his voice was, bottomless and profound. It sliced through the flesh of any silence with such volition and authority it made your ears flinch.

On cue you glance up at the clock on the wall behind his head and raise an eyebrow at him. “By three minutes, sir?”

“Glad you can read a clock,” he muses, before gathering himself together, sitting up straighter, a rough clear of his throat as he does. “Got what I need then?”

You shouldn’t, but you do feel demoralised by his briskness, his stinging frost. You hadn’t been sure what you had been expecting, but perhaps you should have expected that he’d be a colossal prick after all.

A man like him, why wouldn’t he be? When you’re at the top, wasn’t it the done thing to do? To lord down on people? To stroke and pamper your own ego by wiping your boots with other peoples? You wasn’t entirely certain how you’d behave and move through the world if you were him.

“Yes,” you breath, reaching down into your black leather bag and thumbing around until you find a book, some romance novel you had laying around on your coffee table for months, the documents that laid sandwiched between the pages of said book were the treasure here however, your selection of literature needn’t have mattered. You slide it across the table to him. “Here you are.”

“Thanks,” he scoffs, rubbing his thumb across the cover of the paperback painstakingly slowly. “This will really come in handy for all these lonely nights.”

You search his face for a moment, your eyes straining in an effort to see through the lenses, but there is nothing to be displayed, his face is pristinely still, the glassy mask on his eyes currently impenetrable. He leisurely pulls his hand up to take another ample pull at his cigarette, you take it as your cue, you begin to stand.

“Leaving so soon?” He ponders, tongue laced with feathery and amused surprised. As you are now stood up, looking down at him, you can see the beginnings of his retinas, you could just about make out that they were a startling blue. The man must have seen the ways in which you were trying to peak, so he reaches up and pulls the damned shades down the slopping, robust bridge of his nose.

He makes eye contact with you and it takes a grasp on you you, it squeezes you, the grip firm, sweetly and tenderly painful around your heart, gratifying like the way pressing down on an aged violet bruise is. “You sure you won’t stay for a drink?”

It knocks you for six, and you can’t suppress the gulp that travels down your trachea. It’s no big dramatic gesture, you tell yourself, but your body is not convinced. You begin to buzz, your nerves combust into licks of flames.” Well… I suppose I could have just one. But I have work tomorrow.”

“So does everyone else here,” He throws his hand up, palm towards the ceiling in a disdainful gesture. “Come on, I could use the company.”

Your eyes squint in scepticism at him and he lets out something of a delicate snort and shake of his head. “God damn what are they teaching you kids these days,” you hear him mutter as soft as gently trickling water, you barely hear him. I’m buying,” he says louder, stubbing his cigarette out. “What will you have?”

You felt put on the spot, so you shake your head. “Surprise me, whatever, I don’t mind.”

“Great,” he snaps, a hard breath through his nose as he does.

It’s just as you’re sitting down again, expecting him to be well on his way to the bar by now, you feel his breath right near you ear, and then his voice enters you and it sends lightning sparks up and down your veins. “It looks sketchy,” he murmurs, laying a hand on your arm. “If you sit down, pass me some shitty book and then get back up again. What do you think this is? Amateur hour?”

You let out a breathy little chuckle, ducking you head and shaking it. “The cover is that I give you the book… and that I came here to lend it to you. No one suspects a thing.”

“No one comes to the bar to lend someone a book and then leaves again without even having a drink, without even staying to chat,” he argues back insistently, not missing a beat, there is no malice woven into the seams of his tone, but there’s something testing and almost asking, mocking, like a elegantly arrogant professor egging on and challenging his students. It’s… enticing, alluring, it awakens some dormant yet restless little demon in your ribcage, to say the least.

“So hurry up and go and get me one then, super spy,” you say the last word extremely quietly, turning to him now, and it’s a power move by anyones standards, let alone yours, by your standards you’re staring into the mouth of a tiger. He lingers for a few counts, your noses barely an inch from each other, your breath begins to mix, the smell of his cigs and his alcohol wafts up your nose and you have to give your dizziness a firm push back. Finally, his lips twists into something of a smirk and he bends upwards and walks away.

By the time he is back again, you had grown vindicated in his absence, as if the break from his charm and allure had allowed you to come to your senses. The fireball moment of excitement has faded off into something bitter and icy, because of the insinuation that you were a halfwit, because of the suggestion that you were incompetent.

The man places a pint of beer in front of you and you glance up at him, you cut your eyes at him into mean spirited shards and you know you present indignant.

“No ones paying attention to me it’s you who attracts attention. People look at you, they really look at you. You should get surgery to cover up those scars,” you bite, you feel the snow lacing your tongue as you do and wish vehemently that contrasting hot pricks weren’t travelling up to tingle your cheeks. “They are extremely distinctive.

He raises his eyebrows at you and nods as he pulls a cigarette from his pack. “I’ve considered it. But in truth it doesn’t matter if people notice you, it only matters that you fit in.”

“Well, I reckon you’re playing games with me,” you retort, passive aggressive and snarky, bringing the beer up to take a first sip, and you grimace at his selection. “Trying to size me up. I’ve heard all the stories about you.”

“Is that why you come in here looking like a rabbit caught in headlights?”

That rendered you silent, you felt your jaw set tight and you picked up your drink again, staring into the glistening amber.

“You’re still a rookie,” he has grown quieter now and he has looked away towards the bar, he’s easing up on you. “How long has it been now?”

You look up at him through tired half lidded eyes. “Three years.”

“Yeah… you’re only beginning,” he nods slowly more to himself. “Three years, might as well be three weeks in spy time.”

You glance to the side to see the pair of women, the women in which you were referring to when you mentioned him attracting attention, are still eyeing him up, paying you little mind. You turn back to him, slipping him a sly, devious little quirk of your lips. “Think you’ll be going home with one of them? Or both of them?”

“I really try to avoid it while I’m on the job,” a glimmer of amusement manifests and warms up his face, he brings the tumbler of whiskey up to his lips before slipping the entirety of it past his lips and downing it swiftly. There is no flinch from him, he just presses his lips together hard before he settles into blankness again.

“You’re a rare exception in our line of work then,” you say.

“I’m sure,” he agrees lightly. “If your colleagues were more like me they wouldn’t have to sit around telling tales and spreading rumours like a bunch of stepford wives.”

You glance up at him in momentary astonishment, before you shake your head chidingly, but you ponder briefly that he may have a point, because the way the men spoke, or gossiped, or grumbled, or gushed, about him over at BND was all rather undignified and girlish.

You down the wretched beer and then stand, pushing back the tinges of tipsiness making its way to your senses, you look him square in the face and nod. “Thanks for the drink.”

“My pleasure. I’ll see you Friday. Be ready.”

As you walk out, you feel your mouth start to tug into a small grin and then it spreads across your whole face and you find yourself shaking your head again, involuntarily, as you mutter to yourself, “Asshole, what an asshole.”

-

The days leading to end of the week whizzed by you thick and fast, you anticipation seem to spurn it on, and before you knew it, it was 8pm, chilly and dark and you were making your way on top of a factory rooftop to meet him.

He smoked and peered down at the city, he wore what you wore, a snug black turtle neck, exempt he matched his with grey combat trousers, you wore blue jeans.

“Copying my style I see,” he had quipped, eyes grazing up and down your body when he registered your presence.

“More like you’re copying mine,” comes your quick witted retort, but couldn’t stop the gentle laugh that escaped your throat.

He had smiled earnestly at you, comfortably awaiting the light filled moment to pass before he turned serious, business, steely and professional in the blink of an eye, you had to whip yourself into a similar demeanour.

“There’s an East Berlin spy travelling into the city tonight, he’s been causing a lot of problems, I want him gone.”

“You don’t even want to capture him,” you side eye him warily as you wrap your hands around the icy cold railings. “He could be valu-“

“I know who’s valuable and who isn’t, agent,” he holds a hand up as he cuts in. “Can you follow instructions or not?”

You clench your jaw, your temptation to strike back is fierce and fiery, borderline uncontrollable, but you keep your wounded pride under bandaids and begin to nod slowly. “Yes of course I can, agent Adler.”

“Perfect.”

He checks over his shoulder at the ground below again before turning back to you. “He’ll have armed security. I’ll start taking them out, while I’m doing that, I want you to sneak into his suite and kill him.”

“Wait,” you perk up now, you feel your eyes grow wide and raw as you gaze up at him. “You want me to actually get the kill?”

“What’s your experience with a sniper rifle?”

“…non existent.”

“Exactly,” he replies promptly, still surveying the ground below. “And I already knew that. You’re better on the ground. I’ve heard your stealth is excellent.”

You glance at him, peaking at his side profile, the curved and sharp lines of his nose and jaw illuminated, highlighted, clarified by the murky industrial city lights. His honey wheat hair is different today, it doesn’t bounce and animate with every movement, it isn’t perfectly positioned and curated to suave insufferable perfection, instead it is slightly flatter, yet more fluid, pushed back away from his face to fall in waves and gather and end at the nape of his neck. It suits him, but it renders him quite a new variety of man, a more…more work less play sort of man.

“I get by on it,” you say finally, lowering your gaze as you begrudgingly contemplate the cumbersome and gruesome nature of your attraction, how it flutters against the walls of your stomach.

“Give yourself more credit,” he takes out a pair of binoculars and positions them towards the ground below once, you glance too and see a black car rolling in to the front of the hotel.

“There he is,” he confirms. “You ready, agent?”

You push back your shoulders and raise your chin, swallowing your nerves and doubts and pesky lingering trepidation of impending death, and nod firmly. “Yes I am.”

The man gives your shoulder a clap before turning away from you, beginning to position his sniper rifle to wreck havoc with the men from East Berlin.

Angel of death, slipped across your mind as you walked away from him. So beautiful, but what a dark creature he well and truly was. And you too, you remind yourself. You too were beautiful, and you too were wicked when it was time to be.

That’s why when you managed to more or less silently break into the man’s hotel room, up and over, through the window of the bathroom, you make him suffer.

Yes he had smashed a bottle over your face first, yes he had enraged you, but you could have just shot him with your silenced pistol, instead you take your time with this man and his gargled muffled screams were your solitary reward for it.

“It’s nothing,” Adler murmurs, you are both sat in his safehouse/apartment now. He speaks to you, his voice husky and absent minded due to him concentrating mostly on the cuts on your face, the deepest one being the nasty nick at the top of your lip, he dabs at this one with a wet cloth. You see his face now, his shades had been abandoned on his bed side table, you now get to witness his eyes squint and sharpen to coincide with the tender, effortful care he is showing, even the soft little furrow of his brow is so expressive, “Keep it moist, apply lots of cream to it, all day for the next few days, it won’t scar.”

“Yeah?” You chuckle tiredly. “Okay doctor.”

“Might as well be,” he quips, tilting his head at you and raising his eyebrows nonchalantly.

“Oh bullshit, a fucking doctor please,” you scoffed. “You really love yourself, don’t you?”

“Who else is going to?”

You let the room fall into a gentle silence after that, when he is done with attending to your face, you both sip at beers he had in the mini fridge in his room, but you soon turn to him with a deciding sigh.

“I guess you have a lot of experience with injury,” you resort to. “You must have picked up a few things.”

“My ex wife actually taught me that about the scarring. She thought it could help mine,” he points to his face then. “Bless her heart.”

You watched as his eyes glaze, a transient fleeting few seconds of reminiscing, you wanted to take advantage of the little opening, the little opening of openness.

“How’d you get them?”

“Everyone always asks,” he brings his cigarette to his lips, eyes narrowing into cool consideration. “Everyone’s always so nosy about it. I don’t get it.”

“Wouldn’t you be?”

“I don’t think so. I’d just put it down to bad shit happening to people and leave it at that.”

“Well we can’t all be as cool as you, Adler.”

You glanced up at his face, and you marvelled, because yes it was handsome, but there was something far more interesting than that, there was the almost immaculate duality. Like the strange and beautiful creature who lurked in the opera house, like Jekyll and Hyde, like hell’s fire and heaven’s celestial. You touched it, his face, you wanted to touch the battle torn half, you wanted to fill the diverse topography, the dents and dips and valleys, but you felt it a step too intimate, so you glided your fingers, as feather soft as you could, across the undamaged side instead.

The man doesn’t flinch, but he does slips his eyes onto you with a manner of frosty suspicion and cynicism, he searches your eyes leisurely, patiently yet intently as you continue your light caress.

You found the insinuation of confusion on his part confusing, because you had been ninety nine percent sure he had discerned your attraction to him by now, yet here he is now, coming across so precarious and untrusting, you felt like you were trying to win favour with a perpetually anti-social, precarious dog.

When you lift your hand away however, he does grab it, and not gently either, it is just outside a death grip and it hitches your breath in your throat. You refuse to look away from him, you hold firm, rooting yourself into the ground beneath you, not tearing your eyes away from his. “You’re still too green.”

“You mean… like, envious?”

“Too fresh, too trusting. I’m terrified for you,” he is muttering to account for how close your faces are. “You are…decent, but this life isn’t for you. I can always tell. Trust me, you’re either meant for this shit or you’re not. It’s not really something you can learn.”

“That’s bullshit,” you whisper back shaking your head, a sickened smile coming to your face. “I couldn’t imagine doing anything else. I couldn’t imagine a life without this, without people like you.”

“Then you’re gonna hurt,” he tells you, his eyes have softened now, something faded and dim and quietly melancholic, like cloudy sapphires. “You’ll have to get chewed up and spat out again, and again, and again, until you’re tough and dead enough inside to be what you need to be.”

You felt your stomach drop, despite yourself, but you do not display it, simply grinning and rolling your eyes instead. “Why would you be worried about me? Spies get killed, we’re all just collateral to the top dogs like you.”

“You don’t know shit about me sweetheart,” he drawls, raising his cigarette up to his mouth.

“You’re right,” you murmur voice suitably honeyed, you lean in, a hand coming to grasp his thigh firmly to balance yourself. “I’m sorry.”

It is you who’s made the first move by doing this, the first negotiation into whatever transgression was going to transpire, but it is he who actually bites the bullet and kisses you.

A hand snakes around your waist, his thumb presses irregular shapes into your hip. The kiss is not what anyone could have anticipated from a man like him, it is substantial, but then it is also slow and delicate and feathery, his lips soft and patient and forgiving and almost somehow non intrusive against your own.

“I’d be pretty fucked off if you got killed actually,” he mumbles after he’s broken away from you, he’s talking into your ear now, before he presses a firm, deep kiss to your lobe which starts a wildfire internally and a heaviness and electricity darts straight between your legs.

“Why?” You breath as he starts to litter more kisses down your face, beneath your ear and across the bones of your jaw and flesh of your cheek, as gentle and tickling as water droplets landing and splashing onto you, when he reaches your neck you can’t stifle the little whine that travels up your throat, especially when he begins to nibble on the taunt, excruciatingly sensitive skin.

He has you. You hadn’t even realised how much he did, but he has you. You had melted into his hands, your body was subdued and limp and supple, your head was light, airy and drifting off somewhere as rapidly as a ballon set free into the skies.

You ached and throbbed for him, your heart nearly burst at the sneaking reminders that there wouldn’t be much more of this to come because he’d be long gone by morning. Tomorrow you’d lose him. It could be forever, you could very well never see him again and you’d never get to feel this ever again, you didn’t know.

“I don’t know,” he murmurs after a while, hand snaking between your legs to stroke the plush flesh, albeit through your clothes. “You’re different, and you’re so beautiful. I wanted you the moment I saw you, those few years ago. I’ve often times thought about you since then. I bet you didn’t know that.”

“Bet you didn’t know it’s all mutual,” you quipped back, almost aggressive, desperate and breathy as he caresses travel up higher, with no sign of stopping.

“Oh no,” he brought his head down, you felt his hair brush your temple, he chuckled, unabashed and right into your ear again. “Don’t worry, /I/ knew. I always know.”

“Well chances are you’ll probably never see me again,” you say, catching your breath and placing your hand on his wrist to still him, to catch your breath. You look up into his eyes, through your lashes, you feel sordid and dirty yet so powerful, so powerful over such a powerful human being

. “So are you going to make the most of me this time, or not?”

With his face gradually shifting into a slow, hazy smile, he takes the glass from your hand and physically moves you up to the headboard of the bed.

He takes his time with you, really takes his time. He kisses you for what felt like hours, pulling your body so it curves and moulds into his own so securely, you click together like puzzle pieces. When he enters you it feels like what he said, it makes you muse the reality that you both knew this would have to happen eventually. Mutual lust. To be able to express and display every iota of feelings left unsaid, finally. It was ripping off the bandaid, it was releasing dangerously built up pressure.

He growls sweet praises into your ear and strokes your face and even tells you that you’re his, and with that you wonder if he is acting out his fantasies, if that is what he truly desires, someone to be well and truly his and only his. Did he mean it in a wholesome, domestic sense? Did he mean it in hedonistic manner, did he truly want to own someone? You didn’t know. You didn’t know this man, and you didn’t dare allow yourself to believe that, for whatever it was that his heart desired with every pump, it inherently involved you.

He just craves the intimacy, you decided. He craves passion and adoration, you were sure. In fact, this is what he needs, you consider as he flips you onto your stomach and you bury your face into the plushy cool, snowy pillows that smell of his woody, spiced cologne rendering them an aphrodisiac, who cared about the world that waited for you outside of this room, for now, you consider as he enters you and you moan out deeply, sweetly, this is all you both need.

And then after a couple of hours, you are both done, you lay in the amber glow of the lamplight and his vastly long arms, and this time you do touch his scars.

“It was Vietnam, they got me, pinned me down, pulled out some silly little knife,” he recounts, voice hoarse and low and deliciously thick, rumbling against your temple as you rested your head on his chest. “Luckily there was a squadron not too far behind, they saved me before they my throat got slit.”

He inhales deeply on his cigarette as his eyes pierce the wall opposite him. “It’s nothing more interesting than that.”

“Can you remember how much it hurt?”

“Every day,” he stressed, and then he pauses before chuckling easily, lazily, the sex had mellowed him out, softened and blunted his rough, razor sharp edges. “Fuck did that shit hurt. Really really fucking hurt. Those God damn bastards.”

You laugh as well, his sudden display of humbleness endearing and lovely, it was a moment that you could be likened to the rarest of gemstone.

“I like you, Adler.”

“…Yeah,” he mused, gradually contrite and melancholic as he ran a rough, jagged skinned hand down your arm. “I like you too.”

You shut your eyes, fall in tune with his smooth rise and fall. “I’ll be alright, you shouldn’t worry.”

You fall into the most blissful sleep you’ve had since your were small, and then the daylight is creeping through the curtains and nudging your body awake, and as predictable and inevitable as death, he is coldly absent and you quietly fall apart.

#russell adler #call of duty cold war #call of duty #russell adler x oc #gender neutral reader #Russell Adler x reader #fic #black ops Cold War #this is bad but it’s okay #trying to tackle my obsessively perfectionist tendancies and just write #minors dni #vague smut

[thefanfictioncorner-blog]

Read now! (11)

#wattpad #x reader #fanfiction #games #call of duty #call of duty frank #frank woods x reader #frank woods #cod cw #cold war #call of duty cold war #cod russell adler #russell adler #Frank #Frank Woods x you #x you smut #smut #love #cod #alex mason #Mason #cod Mason

[cheesy-mak]

i should put these in order but oh well LAST SNEAK PEEK THIS IS BEFORE SHIT GETS SPICY

#phillip graves #russell adler #cod mw22 #cod mw2 #cod bocw #smut

[cass-the-mess]

Was it Real?

Vikhor "Stitch" Kuzmin x Bell!Reader SMUT 18+ MDNI

Photo cred: @pricescigar

A/N: This has been brewing in my drafts since MARCH lol, and I suddenly felt the urge to finish it today so I hope you guys enjoy it!

Synopsis: Bell manages to break out of Adler's mind control early on in the game. She infiltrates the KGB to hopefully reconnect with the current leader of Perseus himself Stitch, angst ensues, old feelings emerge, betrayal happens, they deal with it in the most reasonable way: Shmex :)

CW: Dark themes, dubious content, SMUT, office sex, ex-lovers to enemies to lovers? Stitch is a bad guy ish, possessive sex, degrading, PWP, canon typical violence (this is COD) but not the main theme of this, they're in love but it's complicated because she's a double agent, not really a happy ending but also not a sad ending.

P.S. this one is dedicated to @stararch4ngelqueen because she's great and she makes me wanna keep writing so :)

P.P.S. Dialogue in Italics are flashbacks, dialogues in bold are russian.

You see him right away when you turn the corner of the hallway, his imposing form walking out of the elevator surrounded by some of his most trusted men. The silvery scar tissue cutting through the left side of his face and into his eye adding onto the threatening aura around him.

You remember him, you remember the relationship you had with him before you got taken away and had all of your memories jumbled and carefully rearranged to fit into the narrative the Americans wanted you to be a part of.

Vikhor Kuzmin aka “Stitch”, current leader of Perseus, your mentor, the man who had taught you everything you knew. The man who had made you into the woman you were. That woman was long gone, that thought angered you. You had no loyalties to the American cause, nor to the men who you were currently working for.

Your loyalty to Russell Adler, the leader of this operation, was especially treacherous. You knew what he did to you, the lengths he had taken to turn you against the very people who had built you from the ground up, whatever charade you were currently playing by “helping” him sneak into the KGB to recover intel, was about to end. Sooner rather than later.

You watch intently through the shaded glass of the door you’re hiding behind as Stitch walks through the empty corridor, the armed men at his side posting themselves at strategic points in the hallway as he continues to make his way through the space, not sparing them a second glance, his patterned eyes ice cold and constantly searching and analyzing. The hood covering his head as well as the mask obscuring the bottom half of his face keeping his true emotions from shining through.

Your heart squeezes painfully at the sight of him, you didn’t know where you stood with him anymore, you knew just how important Perseus’ cause was to him, and how loyal to it he was. You doubted he’d ever forgive you, no matter the circumstances surrounding your disappearance, people didn’t just leave Perseus, and if they did, they were found and dealt with. You knew because that was your job, the executioner. The shadow of death, you were the last thing traitors saw before the light left their eyes.

At one point in time, you were his most trusted advisor, his right hand, his friend. You’d spent countless hours with him, the both of you planning, scheming, organizing, a myriad of different operations to spread your influence through the western countries. Most of which had greatly succeeded, you were always five steps ahead of the Americans.

You don’t know when exactly it changed, when your relationship with the stoic, brutal man, changed. When you became something more, when he started looking at you with a glint in his eyes, when his face relaxed a little when it was just the two of you in the same room, or when he started removing his mask around you. Exposing the gnarled, scarred skin of his face to you, letting you see just how truly broken he was.

But you didn’t think he was broken, you saw a man that had overcome challenge after challenge, continuously coming out on top and never giving up. Your respect for him grew, as did your heart. Butterflies swarming your abdomen whenever he looked your way, not needing to say a single word to you, his eyes always speaking so loud in the silence of the room.

Then he started smiling at you, not a full-blown smile, you didn’t think the man was even capable of such a feat, but a small, subtle quirk of his lips. So small you thought you’d imagined it at first. A fleeting curve of his full lips towards you, gone as fast as it had appeared. The memory makes you blush slightly in the dark space of the office you’re hiding in, chewing at your lips anxiously as you wait for him to dispatch the men around him, giving you an opening to talk to him. Hoping your connection plays in your favour, hoping the man won’t shoot you where you stand, knowing that he would, knowing that he should.

Afterall, you’d not only betrayed your cause, but you’d also betrayed him. That realization had weighed heavy on your shoulders ever since you woke up from whatever trance Adler had you in, all of your memories coming back to you in painful bursts, flashes of images blinding you as they assaulted your brain. The pain you had felt as each memory hit you, still sizzling inside you, causing a shiver to trail up your spine.

You take a steadying breath as you watch him through the tinted window, his white, scarred eye, glinting under the artificial light emanating from the fixtures above him. You’d asked him once if he could still see out of that eye, out of curiosity, but also because he seemed to see everything, all the time. Nothing ever escaped him, you wondered how he was able to be so alert with half his vision gone.

“I see.” Had been his curt answer, not giving you anymore detail than that, leaving you to speculate in silence about it, you found it unlikely that his vision had remained intact after taking a knife to the eye, though you supposed miracle stories could happen and he might’ve just been very lucky.

What had surprised you the most though, was weeks later, when you and him had been working together late one night, both absorbed in your respective tasks, you weren’t really paying attention to him, too preoccupied with finishing your own paperwork. He was though, you’d come to learn that he always was, his eyes always straying back to you, no matter how many times he tried to scold himself. You remember it like it was just yesterday, the scene playing out in your mind like a movie. That had been the start of something that meant so much more.

“it’s colour. I can’t see colour.” He’d said suddenly, his voice gruff from lack of use, the heavy Russian accent wrapping clumsily around the syllables of each word, startling you out of your state of deep concentration and forcing you to look up at him, your mouth agape at his sudden answer. The dim, amber lighting of the light above you, bouncing off the discoloured surface of his eye as he looks at you with an unwavering gaze.

“I- is it, weird…? Seeing colour with one eye and not with the other?” You’d replied to him after a beat, your voice coming out unsure as you took a hesitant step towards him, his two-tone eyes following your every movement like a hawk.

He’d never really given you a clear answer, his shoulders lifting in a shrug before dropping his gaze from yours and going back to his work, pensive look on his face as he continued to meticulously organize the papers before him. You didn’t blame him for not answering, hell, the fact that he even talked to you in complete sentences was something to marvel at. Considering he usually only interacted with his men, and even then, he would only really bark orders at them before dismissing them.

He tried though, you could tell he did, his English was choppy at best when he tried to talk to you, sometimes jumping back and forth to Russian when he couldn’t find his words. You’d started to learn Russian that way, and he started to learn English. It was beautiful really, now that you thought about it, he would teach you words in Russian, and you’d teach him the same words in English. He’d get frustrated when trying to pronounce some words and you’d giggle in your sleeve as he grew more and more flustered, the tips of his ears growing red with embarrassment until he huffed out a curse and gave up.

Your throat grows tight at the memory, eyes starting to sting with unshed tears as emotion threatens to overtake you, he was a complicated, brutal man, and yet he was so patient and gentle with you when you were together, his naturally gruff voice growing softer when he spoke to you. It hadn’t always been that way, of course, at first, he dismissed you as just another body in the sea of men he had to direct, not giving you his time of day, and barking orders your way the same way he would the rest of the men.

But then you’d started to make your mark, your work within the organization gaining more and more recognition from your peers, whispers growing and growing until they became a loud roaring in each room you would walk into, eyes tracking your every breath. Soldiers hanging onto your every word like they were prophecy.

He noticed, like he always did, way before everyone else did. Taking matters into his own hands and tracking your progress, reviewing everything you did himself before approving it to be passed down the chain of command, reeling in the few men who thought acting like dogs would get them anywhere but six feet deep with a bullet between their eyes. And so, the whispers started to change, echoes of Perseus’ executioner leaking from the cracks in the walls, men thrice your size averting their gaze when you walked by, in fear of angering their leader, knowing him as the type of man to not make threats, only promises.

He would seek your advice more often, confiding in you and asking your opinion on certain aspects of operations he wanted to greenlight. You’d been privy to the birth of many successful missions, a lot of which you’d tweaked and reworked under his careful guidance, the subtle glint in his eyes growing more and more every time you managed to surprise him, the pride in his voice unmistakable when those plans came to fruition.

One of those nights after a successful mission, he’d finally kissed you, it happened out of nowhere and even he seemed surprised about it. He’d been watching you all night from across the room, ice cold eyes trailing after you as you mingled with men unworthy of your attention, men who had no idea just exactly who they were talking to. His own thoughts surprised him, the sudden possessiveness coursing through his veins startling him and causing him to stiffen up in the corner of the room he was standing in, the men attempting to congratulate him on yet another successful operation immediately backing up at the sight of their leader so wound up.

You weren’t paying attention, not really, the sudden peak in popularity you were going through quite hard to digest at that time, going from “just another body” to Perseus’ Executioner was already taking its toll on you. So when a harsh slap resounded from across the room, startling everyone into silence, you took a second to understand what the buzz was about, your Russian at the time not as fluent as it was now, add to the fact that your brain was fuzzy from the effects of the alcohol you were drinking, the only words you caught amongst the whispers of the room currently staring in muted fear at their leader were “fucking mongrel” and “kill you where you stand.”

He'd stormed out after that, his anger palpable in the now silent room, the man victim of his wrath left to lick his wounds on the carpeted floor of the decorated conference room you were all left standing in, he wasn’t one for parties to begin with, he’d told you as much during one of your many late night conversations, social gatherings made him feel uneasy, especially when they served no purpose.

The remaining guests had slowly started to leave after that, some of them throwing you a questioning look as they walked out, forcing a frown to form on your face, sure you were still considered an outsider to this whole operation but you’d been with this team for months now, your work was paving the way for generations to come, Stitch was the first one to back that statement, his trust in you unwavering.

With that in mind, you decided to follow after him, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible in your endeavours as the fuzziness in your brain started to dissipate from the alcohol you’d been indulging in earlier. His usual hangout place in the late hours of the evening tended to be in a room adjacent to his office, he used it for multiple different purposes, and right now, that room held most, if not all, of your joint findings for future operations. You decided to check there first.

You found him hunched over one of the tables, a piece of paper crumpled in his large fist, his shoulders heaving under the thick charcoal material of his jacket, the hood covering his head doing little to conceal the man’s current emotional state. You took a hesitant step forward, not wanting to startle, or anger him further in the state he was in.

“Vik…?” You’d called softly, the nickname somewhat new and foreign to you, but you’d taken to calling him that when it was just the two of you alone, his alias always felt wrong to say, you were never quite able to put a finger on why exactly you felt that way about him, but when he’d given you his real name after countless nights spent working with you, you’d decided to go with it, accepting the gesture as what you could only imagine meant something far greater to him.

He never did answer you, his hooded head shaking back and forth in the confines of the room, the flickering light above you doing very little in terms of actual lighting, mostly casting shadows on every corner of the room, illuminating his figure but not highlighting any of his features.

He was mumbling something under his breath, the heavy notes of Russian syllables registering in your mind and forcing you to get closer to him in an effort to understand his tense ramblings. He’d heard you for sure, but he was probably too far into his own head to really acknowledge you at this point.

You took another hesitant step forward, coming to a stop next to him, his words sounding clearer now that you were next to him, but your brain still couldn’t find the right associations at that moment, too overwhelmed with the events of that day to make sense of it all.

“Vik- Can you slow down? I can’t make out what-“

He’d turned around then, his bright eyes pinning you in place, his right eye as blue as the iciest lakes of Russia, and his left eye, as white as the tallest peaks of the motherland’s mountains. He rarely held any warmth in them, even when he looked at you, it didn’t surprise you, after all, the man was a product of his environment, and his environment had been nothing but harsh and unforgiving. All in all, he’d come out of it mostly unscathed, a smart and intimidating man with a steel resolve and an ambition for revolution, it was hard to not admire him in that sense.

“Fucking pigs. Have no respect for their superiors.” He finally answered after a long moment of looking at you, his breathing had calmed down some and he was finally able to slow down when he spoke, the harsh, grating sound of his dialect oddly comforting to you.

You frowned at him then, not understanding his anger, closing the distance between the both of you and gently grasping onto the scarred hand that was holding onto the piece of paper you’d seen him crumpling up when you walked in, extricating it from his grasp and straightening it.

Your eyebrows shot up as you carefully unfolded the paper to reveal the source of his anger; a crudely drawn stick figure with pigtails and enormous breasts, bent over in front of a hooded stick figure holding a knife. The drawing obviously representing you and him engaging in something obscene.

At the bottom of the piece of paper you made out the words “Perseus’ whore”, scrawled in sloppy writing, no doubt an attempt at humor from whoever gave this to him. You shook your head as a deep sigh escaped you, crumpling the offending art project and throwing it in the bin next to the table.

“He’ll get what’s coming to him.” You whispered as you gently placed your hand onto his broad shoulders, the soft fabric of his jacket warm under your touch, your head tilting slightly to catch his eyes. “The men closest to us respect me as they respect you Vik, this will not go unpunished.”

“No matter. I will not allow such vile conduct from lowly insects. He will pay with blood.” He’d said, carefully enunciating every word to make sure you understood his meaning well, his voice had grown rougher with barely contained anger.

The tension in the room had suddenly come to a boiling point, you remember the feeling vividly, his eyes had slowly dragged up your body until they’d landed on your face. The intensity he’d held in his gaze at that moment seared in your mind forever. You feel your breath hitch just at the memory, your throat bobbing as you swallow uneasily.

“My executioner. Together we’ll watch the world burn.” He had finally said, his rough hand carefully taking your much softer one from where it lay on his shoulder, fingers intertwining as he’d closed the distance between you and him. His mask long forgotten on the table next to you, he’d probably taken it off when he walked in, chucking it carelessly onto the pile of paperwork currently taking up most of the surface.

You remember smiling at his ruthlessness, the rough Russian words had somehow seemed so romantic to you in that moment. You remember the way his scarred lips had felt as he’d finally pressed them onto yours, so warm in contrast to the cold man they belonged to. You remember the way he’d held you that night, the way his muscular body had felt against yours, the way he’d whispered your name almost reverently in between soft kisses, his body gently crowding yours against the desk, pushing you up onto it so he could fit himself between your legs, his lips never leaving yours.

He'd taken you, right then and there, on the desk. Pushed everything off the wooden surface so he could have access to all of you without restraint. His lips explored your skin, worshipping every inch of it, every scar, every blemish as if the simple touch of his lips would somehow atone for the sins of others against you. The words he’d whispered to you alternating between Russian and English, he wanted to make sure you understood just how much you meant to him.

You’d done the same to him, ensured to kiss every scar you could see, your fingers gently traced the damaged skin of each and every one of them as you whispered your own words of worship to him, the taste of his skin burnt into your DNA, the shape of each of his tattoos engraved into your mind forever.

That night changed everything.

The memory fades, your heart clenches in melancholy at the knowledge that you’ll never be able to regain his trust, his softness, his love. All that you were eclipsed, and all that could’ve been was now nothing but wishful thinking on your part.

Vikhor didn’t forget, most of all, he didn’t forgive.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally dismisses his men with a curt nod followed by a rough command, the armed men hastily retreating to their assigned post, leaving the hallway deserted for the most part and the path to his office clear.

You follow his gaze as he sweeps the hallway himself one last time, the iciness of his eyes as they take in every detail one last time makes your heart beat faster in your chest, and you’re not sure if it’s out of fear or excitement. After a moment his critical gaze lands directly on the door you’re hiding behind, his eyes squinting at the tinted glass as you duck, a curse escaping your mouth.

The majority of his face is hidden by the gas mask he constantly wears outside, coupled with the thick hood obscuring his head, it’s hard to make out his expression as he finally turns around and enters his office, the door clicking quietly behind him. A relieved sigh leaves your mouth, you shuffle quietly, gathering your thoughts and trying to calm the storm raging in your mind as you get closer and closer to what you came here to do.

You hope he’ll listen, at the very least let you apologize and explain to him what happened to you, maybe even believe you when you tell him that your heart never left this place, that your purpose was and still is to be at his side, to rule the empire you helped him build over the years.

You know your chances are slim to none, but a small part of you hangs on to that sliver of hope that he’ll spare you, that he’ll accept the information you bring him. You swallow uneasily as you get up from where you were crouching on the floor, you throat suddenly dry and constricted. Most of all, you hope that he’ll remember his love for you, the love you both shared for one another before all of this went down, before your entire identity was ripped to shreds, before you were ripped from him.

You scan the hallway one last time before opening the door as quietly as possible, your eyes jumping from corner to corner to make sure no one sees you. You know this place like the back of your hand, spent countless hours walking through these very halls, working with some of these people, and yet, you’re nothing more than a ghost now, another soul lost to the cause, another name whispered, another body never recovered.

You step carefully, gracefully to his office, the blinds behind the tinted window are always closed and today is no exception. You strain your hearing in an attempt to decipher what he’s doing behind the closed door, nothing reaches you but dreadful silence. You grasp the door handle with a sweaty hand, fingers shaking as they wrap around the cold metal, your breath quickening as you slowly turn the handle and push open the door, one foot stepping in before you stop dead in your tracks, your eyes widening.

The sight before you is enough to make your stomach drop, you see the man you love lounging behind his desk, relaxed as ever, one foot propped on top of it, the heavy military boots he wears resting on the worn wood as he stretches his body out. His right hand wrapped around his gun, the metal glinting menacingly in the dim light of the room as he slowly rocks the weapon back and forth in his hand, dragging it over the surface of the desk every so often.

His other arm hangs on the side of the chair, out of view. His head is inclined slightly to one side, eyes pinning you to the spot as he glares at you with an intensity you’ve only ever seen directed at insubordinates within his ranks. The sword of Damocles hanging over your head in the very room you’d engineered Perseus’ most successful hits.

You open your mouth to speak but no words come out, your breath rushes out of you as you try to find your footing.

“Close the door.” He finally says, his English rusty and broken, his eyes unwavering as he tracks your every move like a predator waiting to pounce. You fumble with the door for a moment before finally closing it.

“Lock it.” He tells you, his voice coming out as growl and forcing a shiver of uneasiness to trail up your spine, every fiber of your being telling you to run, to get away, to save yourself before it’s too late.

“Vik-“ You start quietly as you turn around to face him, not moving from where you stand in fear of angering him further.

“Vik? After all this time?” He interrupts you roughly in Russian, his tone dripping with venom and disdain at your use of his given name. You miss the way he flinches at your voice, the lighting in the room too dark to perceive the slight reaction.

“Please listen to me, I promise- I promise this isn’t what you think it is.” You answer back in Russian, your voice quivering with unshed tears as you take a hesitant step towards him, imploring him to find it in him to listen to what you have to say.

“Do you know how many men I have looking for you, executioner? Do you know the price there is on your head right now, my love?” He spits that last part at you like the word leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, like he can’t believe he ever called you that to begin with.

He gets up then, slowly, confidently, his foot slowly dragging across the desk before falling heavily on the floor with a dull thud, the weight of it making the desk tremble slightly. The barrel of his gun drags against the wooden surface as he slowly rounds the desk to come face to face with you, standing well over a foot above you.

His smell assaults you then, clean linen and a hint of fresh mint overshadowed by gunpowder that sticks to every piece of clothing he owns. A smell that was once familiar and comforting now eliciting a shiver of fear in you, pale eyes that once held your entire world now only hold anger and hurt, a hurt that runs so deep you feel your heart crack under the weight of his gaze.

“I’m sorry Vik, I’m so fucking sorry, you have to listen to me please-“ You whisper as your voice breaks under the torrent of emotion raging through you.

“The Americans, they took me, they experimented on me, forced me to forget everything, made me into their puppet so I could feed them information on Perseus.” You tell him, stumbling over your words as you try to make him understand what’s at stake. His eyes harden, the scar running through his left eye looks even angrier like this, the usually pale blue of his right eye now looks almost black as anger simmers in it.

You swallow uneasily as cold metal presses under your chin, forcing your head up and straining the muscles of your neck.

“And? Did you? Did you betray us? Did you betray me, my love?” He whispers as he presses the cold metal harder against the delicate skin there, the heat in his gaze igniting something inside you, it feels wrong, so fucking wrong but you can’t help yourself as a whimper escapes you.

“No. No, I- “ You swallow uneasily as you try to keep your head upright and your gaze on his, refusing the let him see how scared you are.

“I told them nothing, I invented false leads to throw them off your scent. I convinced them to let me come here to get information because I wanted to warn you- They’re coming Vikhor, they want your head, Adler wants your head.” At the mention of Adler his other hand shoots up to wrap itself around your neck, pushing you against the door violently, the hand holding the gun lets go suddenly, the weapon clattering to the ground.

His now free hand comes up to his masked face, ripping away the constricting contraption to reveal more of his scarred flesh to you, his full lips pulled back into a feral snarl as he lowers his head to your ear. “You’re telling me Russell Adler is outside this fucking building waiting for you to bring him intel on ME?!” He rasps out in a deadly whisper, the hand around your neck tightening as he slaps the other one against the surface of the door, making you flinch.

“No. Not here. I’m alone, I promise I came alone, they trust me, I made them believe they could trust me. You need to move to a different location NOW Vik, I’ll give them a random location to give you time to get your men mobilized but you can’t stay.” You reply, one of your hands closing gently around the one at your neck, squeezing gently, reassuringly. Your eyes pleading with him, trying to get through the thick layer of ice between you and him.

He smirks then, his lips twisting in a deformed grin, exposing perfectly white teeth from the corner of his mouth as his hand loosens and his thumb slowly drags across your lips, his breath fanning across your cheek as a humorless laugh escapes him.

“I should fucking kill you, make an example out of you, discard you like the dog you are.” He whispers seductively, his eyes fixated on your lips as his thumb continues to rub gently across the delicate skin there, trying to coax your tongue out to wet them.

“Vik-“ You whimper breathlessly, your heart beating wildly in your chest.

“No, instead I think I’ll let you continue on this mission of yours, you keep feeding them faulty information and you keep giving me information like the good little bitch you are, and maybe, MAYBE, I’ll let you live.” He growls out, his lips now dangerously close to yours, a wicked glint in his eyes as his tongue pokes out, dragging across his own lips as hunger starts burning through the glaciers nestled in his eyes.

His mouth is on yours then, he’s kissing you like he’s never kissed you before, desperation driving his every move as both of his hands cradle your face, one of his knees pushing your legs apart, forcing your core against his clothed thigh, the thick muscle under you flexing to accommodate you.

Your own hands grab onto the sides of his face, his strong jaw speckled in stubble, the rough texture of it making you moan into his mouth, giving him the perfect opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue meeting yours for the first time in almost a year. A guttural groan escapes him at the taste of you, his desperation increasing tenfold as he suddenly scoops you up, one hand securely around your waist, while the other grabs a handful of your ass, encouraging you to wrap your legs around him.

You hear commotion as he drops you on his desk, his lips never leaving yours as he sweeps everything off the wooden surface, in one swoop all the clutter occupying his desk is sent flying across the room, you hear what you assume is a mug, shatter as it hits the floor.

His hands are grabbing everywhere at once, pulling at your clothing as he tries to get as close as possible to you, his need presses insistently against your stomach, pulling a moan from you as you try to move against him, your own delirium getting the best of you, all previous thoughts or worries gone from your mind as you finally feel him against you once more.

“Need you, Vik, please” You whine out, your hips straining towards his for any kind of relief, the Russian words coming from your mouth in such a needy manner pushing him into a frenzy, his hands dipping under the fabric of your shirt, pulling away from you just long enough to tear the piece of fabric off of you, exposing more of your skin to him. His hands immediately going to your breasts, pulling the cups of your bra low enough to expose them.

“Shut the fuck up, don’t say my name like that, not when you ripped my entire fucking heart out when you left, not when you left and took my soul with you. I couldn’t fucking think without you, I can’t fucking live without you.” He growls out, his voice betraying him as it cracks with emotion at his own admission.

Your answer comes as a moan as his lips wrap around one of your nipples, tongue curling over the sensitive bud, your hands tighten around his neck as you throw your head back in pleasure, hips grinding against his pulsing erection, the friction not nearly enough to provide any relief through the thickness of both your pants, you let out a frustrated cry at that, deciding to take matters into your own hands, you slide your fingers down his muscular chest, the wild thumping of his heart vibrating through your skin.

You reach his belt buckle a few moments later, nimble fingers working through the loops of his belt in quick efficient movements, finally freeing it. You hurriedly unzip his pants, his hips push into your hands as he continues to explore your skin, kissing and biting every inch of exposed flesh, making you his once again, making sure you’re real and not just a figment of his imagination.

When your hands finally wrap around the thickness of him, his forehead drops against your sternum, a grunt escaping his mouth as you slowly pump his length, your own mouth leaving a trail of sloppy kisses along his jaw, his name like a prayer on your tongue, reassuring him that you’re actually there, that you’re real, that you love him.

“Can’t- can’t wait. Need you, right here, right now.” He breathes out, his hands fumbling with your pants impatiently, almost tearing them in his haste to get them off of you, not even caring to remove them completely.

“I’m here, I’m here my love, take what you need.” You whisper reassuringly, your lips catching his in another kiss as his big hand cups your core, fingers dragging through your arousal before pushing one thick digit inside you, the tight ring of muscles relaxing around him as he starts thrusting his finger in a steady rhythm, more of your arousal leaking out around his hand.

You push your face against his clothed shoulder to muffle the sounds you make, not wanting to get caught, your teeth sinking into the thick layer of muscle when he adds a second finger, the soft squelching of your wetness resonating throughout the dark room, coupled with the soft curses leaving his mouth occasionally as you continue your own assault on him, precum leaking steadily from his tip and onto your hand, making a mess of his own.

“Always so fucking wet for me aren’t you? Even when you betray me, this pussy knows who it belongs to.” He growls possessively in your ear, his movements growing more relentless as you start clenching around him, the degrading statement only adding to your growing arousal.

You cum suddenly, violently around his fingers. Tears spring to your eyes as you throw your head back, a broken half sob, half moan escaping you as he continues to thrust his fingers slowly inside your pussy, your legs shaking from where they’re still hooked around his waist.

His fingers slide out of you, forcing a hiss from you at the sudden emptiness, but the feeling doesn’t last long, you feel the thick head of his length pressing against your opening, the familiar feeling causes a shiver to rip through you.

“Look at me. Wanna see you when I make you cum.” He commands, breaching you with a steady thrust. You struggle to keep your eyes open at the onslaught of pleasure overtaking you, your eyesight blurry from tears of pleasure threatening to spill out, but you nod clumsily, one hand twisting into the material of his sweater when he starts working himself deeper into you, his breathing growing ragged at the feel of you taking him deeper and deeper with each thrust.

You lose track of the words coming out of your mouth, Russian and English coming out as a jumbled mess, different variations of his name as well as pleas to let you cum fade into one another, his hips stuttering every so often when your voice cracks around the syllables of your prayers to gods who gave up on the both of you long ago.

His hands end up around your jaw once again, the roughened skin holding your face softly as his piercing eyes hold yours, his own jaw clenched hard enough to make the vein on his forehead jump with strain as he wrestles with his feelings and with the pleasure coursing through his body, wave after wave assaulting his senses like an unrelenting storm.

When your release comes, it’s an all-consuming inferno, the muscles in your core collapsing onto the heavy thickness of him within you, forcing his thrusts to turn erratic in turn. Your head thrown back in a silent scream as you soak the desk beneath you with the proof of your pleasure, a pleasure that gets stretched out as he chases after his own release, pumping into you with abandon, strong hands holding onto your head as his own eyes roll back into his head as he finally cums deep inside you.

You both lay there panting for a moment, your minds reeling, your hearts clenched tight with emotional turmoil, wanting to stay here forever, and wanting to disappear at the same time.

When he finally pulls out, a hiss escapes him, his eyes fixated on the evidence of your coupling slowly leaking out of your abused cunt as he tucks himself back into his pants gingerly, the mask of tense indifference he wore earlier falling back into place seamlessly.

“Go. Grab your shit. I’ll find you when I’m ready.” He grunts, turning around and exiting his office without another word, leaving you there.

#call of duty #call of duty cold war #stitch call of duty #vikhor stitch kuzmin #bell call of duty #fanfiction #Stitch x Bell #Stitch x Reader #russell adler #adler call of duty

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titles with ** next to them contain mature content - Read at your own discretion (SMUT, heavy violence, and or some levels of gore)

I mostly write Call of Duty fics but I am willing to do any other kind of requests too Living in the Shadows: Series Masterlist |Simon Riley x Female Reader|

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CoD Black Ops Cold War

** Red White & Blue(Series):Frank Woods x Female Reader

Chapter 1

What The Future Holds: Russell Adler x Reader

The Pain We Ease: Russell Adler x Reader

Electric: Russell Adler x Reader

CoD Modern Warfare II

** Unspoken Love: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Female Reader

Spoken Happiness: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Female Reader

Sweet Indulgence: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Female Reader

Surface Tension: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x GN!Reader

** Sweet Nothings: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Female Reader

Bittersweet: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x GN!Reader

When it Rains, It Pours: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Female Reader

Desire: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Female Reader (WITIP PT.2)

** Loose Ends: Alejandro Vargas x Female Reader

Special Affairs: 141 x G!N Reader

Special Affairs Pt.2: 141 x G!N Reader

Unhealed Wounds: Soap MacTavish x Female Reader

New Faces: 141 x Reader

Stone Cold: Simon Riley x Reader

Stubborn: Simon Riley x Reader

Sunday Punch: Simon Ghost Riley x Female Reader

War and Cookies: Soap Mactavish x Reader

Burning Bridges: Simon Riley x Reader

Dare or Dare: Simon Riley x Female Reader

** Rules of Entanglement: Phillip Graves x Reader

** Fiery Touch: König x Reader

** Home: Phillip Graves x Female Reader

** Broken: Simon Riley x Female Reader

** Ticking Bomb: Simon Riley x Female Reader

Dark Desire: Professor Price x Reader

** Out of Reach: Simon Riley x Female Reader

The Angel of Death: Simon Riley x Female Reader (Part 1) The Angel of Death: Simon Riley x Female Reader (Part 2)

** What Make Us Tick: Simon Riley x Gender Neutral Reader

Flipping The Switch: Simon Riley x Reader

K.O.: Simon Riley x Female Reader

** The Lost Soul: Simon Riley x Female Reader

** An Unspoken Past: Simon Riley x Female Reader

** It was just a dream: Simon Riley x Female Reader Bittersweet: Simon Riley x Female Reader

At Peace: Simon Riley x Female Reader

The things we never said: Simon riley x female reader

Out of our hands: Simon Riley One Shot

Headcannons

How They React To Gossip : 141

Domestic Bliss: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Female Reader

**Stargirl (Domestic Bliss pt 2): Simon Riley x Female Reader

All My Love: Simon Riley x Female Reader

When they Smoke weed for the first time: 141

#black ops cold war #call of duty #cold war #russell adler #frank woods #frank woods is blueprint daddy #russell adler is a dilf #russell adler x fem!reader #russell adler x reader #alex mason #frank woods x reader #call of duty headcanons #call of duty fanfic #call of duty smut #captain price #call of duty black ops #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty ghost #call of dooty

[konigsblog]

TWENTY-ONE, SCOTTISH

this blog contains dark content, with triggering subjects. taboo and touchy topics. profile picture belongs to @/valkyriesouls. 🪦🕊️

my requests are always open, unless i have too many, then they'll be off !! 🎀

minors do not interact. i post smut/lust and dark content. my work isn't made for anyone who is under the age of 18.

i write for call of duty; ghost, soap, gaz, price, keegan, hesh, krueger, könig, alejandro, rudy, valeria, graves, frank woods, russell adler, makarov, horangi, mace, nikto, laswell. both nsfw and sfw. (as well as angst)

spam liking is okay ! no need to apologise, i appreciate it. 🐙

boundaries .

i won't write for scat, watersports (piss), ageplay, pedophilia, underage, necrophilia, feederism, race play, diapers, wound fucking, fisting, vomit, farts, STI/STD.

please don't spam my inbox with the same request, i will get around to it, just give me time. if i don't post your request, it either breaks my boundaries or i'm not intrested in the idea, please respect that 🤍

don't force me to say no to a request. i prefer deleting them since it makes me feel more comfortable !! don't message me to do a request if my askbox is off, they're off for a reason.

please, please put your age in your bio. i won't block you if you don't, but i will be on edge since i don't know if you're a minor.

don't send me anything like gore. i will block you !!

backup account here !!

– @ konigsblog

#call of duty modern warfare #cod x reader #modern warefare ii #cod x y/n #ghost headcanon #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley #cod ghost #cod mw2 #ghost x reader #orla speaks #könig call of duty #call of duty mwii #captain john price #ghost mwii #ghost mw2 #ghost simon riley #ghost cod #ghostsoap #reader x ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #johnny soap mactavish #soap cod #soap call of duty #gaz x reader #gaz garrick #alejandro call of duty #alejandro cod #valeria el sin nombre garza #valeria cod

[mockerycrow]

CROW’S 4K CELEBRATION GUIDELINES

I truly cannot express my gratitude for all of your love and support over the last couple of months. I never imagined I would hit even 1k, and now I’m at 4k?? holy. fuckin. shit. I love you all!!!

NO LONGER ACCEPTING 4K REQUESTS <3

-> GUIDELINES BELOW THE CUT <-

RULES

PROPER REQUEST FORMAT: “character x gender!reader w/ “insert prompt here” + an AU if you would like :-)

One character per request (unless it’s character x reader x character! (i.e ghost x fem!reader w/ “i can’t do it anymore.”)

Specify the gender you would like. plain “character x reader” will result in gender neutral.

AU’s are allowed.

See my general request rules.

please be patient!! i will get these out asap.

not all of these will be full fledged 3k+ word fics!!

characters that I will be writing for this celebration (all call of duty); ghost, gaz, soap, price (including reboot and og), roach, könig, alex keller, farah karim, kate laswell, alejandro vargas, rodolfo parra, russell adler, frank woods, alex mason, jason hudson, david mason, gideon, jack mitchell, keegan russ, logan + hesh walker.

PROMPTS

fluff prompts #1

fluff prompts #2

angst prompts #1

angst prompts #2

smut prompts #1

smut prompts #2

-> 4K Celebration Posts Masterlist

#crow’s 4k celebration #call of duty #call of duty mwii #cod mw2 #cod #mw2022 #modern warfare ii #mw2 2022 #bocw #cod bocw #cod black ops cold war #black ops #black ops 2 #ghost x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #price x reader #russell adler x reader #frank woods x reader #keegan russ x reader #logan walker x reader #gideon x reader #advanced warfare #cod ghosts #mw2 #og soap x reader #og ghost x reader #roach x reader #hesh walker x reader #simon ghost riley x reader

[multi-fandom-imagine]

A/n: All Call Of Duty fics.

Key:

-💋:Smut

Russel Adler:

::Fics::

✨: A welcomed Mistake.

✨: A welcomed Mistake || Pt2 ||-💋

✨: Would you like to put the star on the very top of the tree?

Ronald Daniels:

✨: tall buff characters that are actually gentle giants

Joseph Turner:

✨: Be The One You Need-💋

William Pierson:

✨:Just being a dad

Alejandro Vargas:

::Fics::

✨: Too Cold

✨:Cabin Sex-💋

✨:Five Times Kissed

✨: Jealousy.

✨:Not Jealous-💋

✨:You ride my face,or you don’t get off-💋

✨: Short + Tall

✨:Snow ball fight

✨:You look good in that suite- 💋

✨:I would die for her

✨:Secret Santa- 💋

✨:

✨:

:Headcanons:

💕:Alejandro as a protective girl dad and his daughter wanting to be in the Mexican special forces.

💕: Alejandro as a father.

💕: Being over Stimulated.

💕:Kisses under the mistletoe with the 141 boy’s

💕: How would the COD boys react to Y/N having nipple piercings?

💕:

💕:

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

::Fics::

✨: Rosy Cheeks

✨:Alone

✨:Wrapped in a soft blanket.

✨:Helping with a sickness.

✨: Did you spike the eggnog again?

✨:I’m not sick.

✨:I’ll be better than my father.

✨: Bedroom Cuddles.

✨: The turkey’s not the only thing getting stuffed today -💋

✨: Christmas shenanigans under the tree- 💋

✨:Off Limits.

✨:

✨:

:Headcanons:

💕: chase me through the woods and if you catch me you can have me -💋

💕:Being over Stimulated.-💋

💕:First Christmas with the 141 boys.

💕:Kisses under the mistletoe with the 141 boy’s

💕:

Rodolfo Parra:

::Fics::

✨: Leaves

✨: dance of the sugar plum fairy

✨:I’ll take care of you.

✨:

✨:

✨:

:Headcanons:

💕:Kisses under the mistletoe with the 141 boy’s

💕: How would the COD boys react to Y/N having nipple piercings?

💕:

💕:

💕:

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish:

::Fics::

✨: Flannel Season

✨: The best kind of hugs

✨:Breasts are my favorite things to nibble on-💋

✨:141 x reader where they cheat? And the reader moves on and they regret it?

✨: It’s time for hand turkey’s everyone.” “FUCK YES!!”

✨:

✨:

:Headcanons:

💕: Being over Stimulated. 💋

💕:First Christmas with the 141 boys.

💕:Kisses under the mistletoe with the 141 boy’s

💕:Johnny with a breeding Kink.

💕:

💕:

💕:

Philip Graves:

::Fics::

✨: Saved From a Shitty Date

✨:Thanksgiving Dinner-💋

✨:Hero

✨:141 x reader where they cheat? And the reader moves on and they regret it?

✨:Very Naughty- 💋

✨: Gonna be a dad

✨:

✨:

✨:

:Headcanons:

💕:Kisses under the mistletoe with the 141 boy’s

💕:

💕:

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

::Fics::

✨: You’re safe

✨:141 x reader where they cheat? And the reader moves on and they regret it?

✨:

✨:

✨:

:Headcanons:

💕:First Christmas with the 141 boys.

💕:Kisses under the mistletoe with the 141 boy’s

💕:

💕:

John Price

::Fics::

✨: hanging up the Christmas lights

✨: Risky Business 

✨:Warmth bath.

✨: He’s a silver fox.

✨:

✨:

✨:

:Headcanons:

💕:First Christmas with the 141 boys.

💕:Kisses under the mistletoe with the 141 boy’s

💕: How would the COD boys react to Y/N having nipple piercings?

💕:

💕:

Alex Keller

::Fics::

✨: Walking in the dark to see festive light displays

✨:Injured Confession.

✨:

:Headcanons:

💕:

💕:

König

::Fics::

✨: Helping with a sickness.

✨:Doctor! Doctor

✨:König where it’s his s/o’s birthday?

✨:

✨:

:Headcanons:

💕: chase me through the woods and if you catch me you can have me- 💋

💕:As a father.

💕: König with have a praise kink and size kink.- 💋

💕: How would the COD boys react to Y/N having nipple piercings?

💕:

#drabbles #drabble #imagines #hc #smut #call of duty x you #call of duty x reader #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare ii #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty cold war #call of duty ww2 #call of duty wwii

[mariariley]

-MW2

“Will I ever see your face?”, Simon Riley x gn!reader [fluff]

“Reaching out”, Simon Riley x reader [eating disorder warning]

-MW (2019)

-OG MW

-Cold War

🥀

-MW2

Simon Riley x fem!reader [relationship hcs]

Phillip Garves x fem!reader [relationship hcs]

141 x reader [answering your ft calls hcs]

-MW (2019)

-OG MW

-Cold War

Russell Adler x fem!reader [relationship hcs]

🥀

-MW2

-MW (2019)

-OG MW

-Cold War

🥀

-MW2

Amusement park with the 141 [ask, short hc]

Buying slimes for the 141 [ask, short hc]

141 x fem!reader insecure about her accent [ask, drabble]

“I had a dream and you were in it!” 141 x reader [ask, short hc]

Family cookout with Simon [ask, short hc]

rough!König x reader [ask, short smut hc]

Soap x bratty!reader [ask, short smut hc]

dad!König x daughter!reader [ask, short hc]

Playing video games with 141 [ask, drabble]

-MW (2019)

-OG MW

-Cold War

🥀

Dividers belong to @firefly-graphics 🥀

Banners are mine, tag if you use them 🖤

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty mw2 #call of duty mwii #call of duty cold war #cod mw #cod mw2 #cod mwii #call of duty masterlist #call of duty banners #black masterlist #black banners #black divider #call of duty x reader #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw x reader #cod cold war