#i will pull no punches fuck the military

[duckapus]

In the Candace-as-Spiderwoman universe Baljeet is the first ever Hulk. Hulkjeet still insists on being called Hulkjeet, no matter how much all the news outlets and SHIELD want to make him more "serious" and use "The Hulk." When he first shows up Candace fights the military because they're trying to shoot A CHILD with fucking TANKS just because he's big and scary and breaking stuff. One of them tries to pull the "you're supposed to be on our side!" card and she's just like "you know vigilantism is illegal, right?"

Anyway this is the start of Candace having a team because there ain't no rule saying Spiderwoman can't have a team! Fuck the Avengers they can have a different Main Four this time Hulkjeet's a Danville hero.

#phineas and ferb #spiderman #marvel #the incredible hulk #candace flynn #spider woman #baljeet tjinder #hulkjeet #jjj's actually on spiderwoman's side just this once once because that's his nephew's best friend! #candace does her best work when she's leading someone #i will pull no punches fuck the military #shield #they *would* try to make someone's alter ego more clinical sounding for branding purposes #spider-candace au

[mockerycrow]

Hey hey, can I request the 141 boys + König's reaction to a random soilder slapping fem! Reader's ass, preferably platonic! where they see reader as a sister. Thank you your work is *chef's kiss*

141 + König’s Reaction to Fem!Platonic!Reader’s Ass Slapped By Rando

cod masterlist

I’m having a 400 follower celebration!!

A/N: I feel ehhh about this one, but rest assured that i tried!! also, all characters are aware you can defend yourself. they are just protective.

You were talking with him softly, leaning an arm on the nearby counter with your hips jetted out. You laughed at something he said, your head tilting to the right for a moment before there’s a loud smack! you make a panicked noise and turn around quickly and you’re met with the face with a young man with a smug face, with an expression like he did something that you liked. Your eyebrows furrow and you prepare to give the young man an ass whooping when he swoops in.

-> John Price

“Keep your bloody hands to yourself, soldier!” Oh, Price is fucking fuming. He doesn’t stand for workplace harassment and unwanted touching for anyone, this is the fucking military—not a place to try to hookup.

Price does not let the man get a word in, even when the man is stuttering out his apologies—that are ordered by Price, by the way—and he drags him out of the kitchen area to file an official report of his behavior.

He subtly threatens the man, ensuring that if this behavior continues, “you will be dealt with. I will promise you on that.”

Price is very aware that you can handle yourself, but he just was not in the mood.

-> Kyle Garrick

He’s seething and Kyle doesn’t hesitate to push the man away from you, shouting, “Have you gone absolutely mad?!”

It does not matter if this man ranks above Kyle, he throws ranks out the window by this point, yelling about how he’s disgusting. “You’re acting like a bloody chav, get ahold of yourself!”

You’re so convinced Kyle is about to punch this guy, but he shows a good amount of self-restraint, spitting another insult through gritted teeth, voice low, “Next time you’re being dodgy, I’m throwing you to the fuckin’ wolves.”

-> John MacTavish

He pushes himself between you and the offender, an unhappy and unamused look prickling at his features. He has a faux-smile, his lips tight and uncomfortable. He laughs and claps a hand down on the man’s shoulder, making the man wince from the force.

“Buddy!” Soap calls him, his tone edging onto unsettling happiness. He’s absolutely furious because no one deserved unwanted touching. Soap sees you as a little sister and he’s always been protective of his little family. the 141

He leans in and whispers something to the man, causing all of the color to drain from the guy’s face and he runs off, causing you to glance at Soap. “What did you tell him?”

Soap just offers you a cheeky smile. “Oh, y’know, If he decides ta’touch anyone like that ever again, I’ll make sure that he physically cannot.”

-> Ghost

Ghost immediately pulls rank, right away. He isn’t the type to do it really, but this is absolute unacceptable behavior. His voice is dripping venom and is rough as sandpaper, nearly snarling with every word—yet keeping a calm composure at the same time.

“Go outside and dig a hole. Don’t stop until it’s as deep as your height.” “W.. What? Sir..—“ “Do not make me repeat myself. Go on.”

He 100% uses PT (physical training) as a punishment on these types of guys, and ordering him to dig a hole is a task laced with humiliation.

His glare screams “I’ll kill you if you touch her again, and I’m not joking”. Ghost is very protective of the ones he cares about, and that includes you,

-> König

Using his size to his advantage, he looms over the man with a deadly glare, the rumors you’ve heard—the terrifying man that belongs on the battlefield? That very man appears in the common kitchen that night.

He’s also the type to pull rank—and this is one of those times no one realizes he’s a Colonel until he mentions it and absolutely does if the guy talks back to him. “What did you just say to me?”

König snarls with every word, berating the man’s behavior, asking him if he would like that done to him or any woman in his life, etc.

You would have to hold this fucker back from actually hurting him, or else you’d end up with König on a two week suspension.

#call of duty #call of duty mwii #cod mw2 #mw2 2022 #mw2022 #modern warfare ii #cod #mw2 fanfic #mwii #john price x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #ghost x reader #konig x reader #könig x reader #captain price x reader #john mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #headcanons #modern warfare 2 #modern warfare two #modern warfare #mw2 x reader #mw2 #könig call of duty #könig #konig #captain price #fem!reader

[krypticcafe]

Reader/ Y/n coming back to base covered in blood and tortured while 141 + Alejandro had no idea where reader was since they left in the morning.

Reader is "the little sibling/adopted child that we must protect all cause" to the boys

Love your writing so much ❤️

As Long as I'm Here

rating: mature

pairing(s): platonic gn!reader x 141 + alejandro

warning(s): canon-typical violence, language, drugs and drugging, torture, blood, military inaccuracies, no use of y/n, no beta read

a/n: Hope you don't mind that I decided to put this all in one long fic, kinda struggled with the writing direction with this since I had to rewrite it multiple times and I had to cut it short so I'll probably make a part two?

synopsis: it's going to take a lot more than simple torture to keep you from going back to the 141.

Part Two is now up!

"I'll be back before they know it."

Those were the last words you thought to yourself before you hopped off the helicopter. You and a team of other capable members of SpecGru and the Los Vaqueros had left before the crack of dawn for a joint operation and anticipated coming back by the afternoon if things went smoothly. And of course, they didn't.

No, you couldn't be afforded such a luxury as seen by how you were overwhelmed in battle. You wish you could've said you did your best, but god dammit you should've checked before entering that building, thinking you could lure the enemy away from the rest of your team. Compared to the hours you spent strapped to a chair with nothing but fluorescent light and a buzzing in your ears to compliment the throbbing pain in your head, you started to prefer the option of joining the rest of your teammates becoming target practice instead.

It didn't help either that the people who caught you were sick bastards. You could deal with the punches, a kick to the crotch, the hair pulling, cigar smoke, the blades, and having your body slammed around the place. It was nothing compared to practice with the 141 and prior missions you had with them. But when the metal cart of syringes came out, you knew you were beyond fucked, even when you had a swollen eye, a busted lip, broken ribs, open cuts, and burns. They took it a step further and injected experimental drugs you were supposed to investigate, homemade concoctions as they lovingly called them.

By pure shitty luck, you only escaped because one of them was stupid enough to clean up after offering you a glass of water when you woke up after passing out, dropping and shattering it in front of you, and not bothering to clean up. When your guard left to go take a piss break, you threw yourself to the floor and tried to squirm your way to the glass, using a shard to cut through your ropes. Once your guard came back, you pretended to still be bounded to your seat, coaxing him to come closer as if you wanted to confess something, and slit his throat. From there, it was easy now that you had a gun.

Or at least it was supposed to be. Maybe it was the heat of the moment or the adrenaline of finally being able to move, but the drugs hadn't fully kicked in until now. Your whole world seemed to sway, or maybe it was just you. You couldn't tell, all that mattered was that you could fight. Based on the layout of the building you were in, you were still in the same area as you were before. It took more bullets than you would've liked to admit to take down the guards that were in your way, but how was it your fault when the only two thoughts in your head were 'Where the fuck is my stuff' and 'God I'm gonna puke'.

Whoever kidnapped you really didn't think things through. Security was tight on the second floor but the bottom floor just had a single guy in the kitchen messing with a bag of crackers. You aimed your gun at him and click!

Click!

Clickclickclick!

Shit.

Well that caught his attention. You ducked down right when he reached for his gun, tossing your empty one to the side now that you'd be doing this the hard way. Waiting with bated breath, you took your window of opportunity, lunging when he had to reload. You took him by such surprise that he fumbled to put in another magazine and that allowed you to knock the weapon from his hands and tackle him to the ground. The both of you struggled on the hardwood floors for what felt like hours, but it was only a minute at most. Even in your feverish, dizzy, survival-instincts-only state, you overpowered him and stabbed him with his own knife.

Towering over the body, you gasped for breath, feeling your lungs struggling to expand and contract if you didn't force yourself to focus on the task. Great, now you're sweaty, weak, bloody, and out of breath. Based on how your hands started trembling, your symptoms were getting worse. Pacing around the area, you found your bag on a couch and fished around for the radio, yelling out your callsign before the rest of them would discover why their friends were suddenly so silent over comms.

"Sending coordinates, get a chopper over to exfil ASAP. And a damn medic."

The 141 were back from their own mission when they had heard the news of your distress call. Ghost was on the verge of strangling one of men that was on the team with you if they didn't add the fact that you made a reckless move for the sake of the team. Ghost could agree that it was something that only you would do despite his constant arguing with you and his protectiveness over you. He'd keep an eye out for you from the shadows both on base and in the field, be the one to challenge you to push your limits during your sparring matches, make sure you were well-trained so you could protect yourself. And yet you would instead protect the 141's asses countless times.

Ghost was brooding in the helicopter, well, more like sulking after a mission with you and Soap. During the crossfire, he wasn't able to keep an eye out for his flank and see the grenade flying for him. In a desperate move, you shoved him out of the blast range with all your strength, landing you with a couple burns and injuries, but nothing fatal. You knew he was going to get moody afterwards, giving a knowing glance to Soap before turning back to Ghost and nudging his leg with your boot.

"Hey, L.T, you were in the British S.A.S, right?"

"..."

"Just answer the question! C'mon Ghost, for me? Pleaaaase?"

"Affirmative."

"So back then, if you were to get bathroom duty, would they call you a Loo-tenant?"

"... negative. Was promoted after joining the 141." He turned his head away, and despite his blunt, by-the-book response, you knew he was smirking under that mask of his, especially with how Johnny and you were both snickering your asses off.

"Ghost?"

Simon snapped out of his thoughts and looked back at Soap, visibly concerned for the masked man but reading him all at the same time. Years of working together helped Soap get over the boundary of Ghost's silence and stoicism, and Ghost wasn't the only one looking out for you after all.

"You alright, L.T?"

"Solid, just need a talk with Price."

"I know what you're thinkin', and as much as I'd love to shove it to the bastards, they're going to need us when they come back. Price will come up with something, we just hafta wait 'til then." For once, Soap was the voice of reason and Ghost couldn't argue with his point.

"He's right, you know." Price stood a few feet away from the two in the hall, "Kid's capable of themselves but they're going to need a shoulder to lean on when they get here. Maybe a couple stitches, too."

Price hoped it was only going to be a few stitches. Though he knew it probably wasn't the case. Alongside Roach and Gaz, he had trained you for these situations, ensuring it would never happen and it never did thanks to his mentorship. He saw you as one of his own and ensured that you'd be able to fight tooth and nail so that it would never end up like this. But now that it has, he could only wonder what could've been done to you for you to get captured.

He didn't want to wonder.

"Bloody hell, what did they do to you?" Gaz muttered, watching as you stepped down the ramp with a soldier aiding at your side. There was an attempt to bandage you up on the way, though it only seemed to be temporary since your bandages were already stained with blood and some of it oozed out. Even the bandages around your head didn't stop the crimson liquid from spilling down the side of your face. The soldier passed you to Gaz, immediately urging that your injuries be tended to.

"Something's wrong, look." Roach helped support your other side to allow Gaz to examine you.

With a closer look, Gaz found that your pupils were disturbingly dilated, eyes glazed over in a way that made you almost look dead. You were muttering and mumbling nonsense under your breath, something about the mission and wanting to go home.

Gaz swallowed an anxious breath and nodded, "We'll get you home soon, buddy. Roach, help me take off their gear."

As soon as the other man began unclipping your vest from your body, it seemed something had pulled a trigger in you.

"No... no you're not- don't fucking touch me-!" You slurred, weakly tearing yourself from the hands of your friends. It surprised Gaz that you had the energy to punch his chest with that much force, but it broke his heart all at the same time. Roach guessed that you were so out of it that you could barely comprehend your surroundings, hell, you probably thought you were still in captivity. It hurt to imagine your perspective, and how vulnerable you felt, thinking they were your enemies.

"What's going on here?" Price's voice rose over all the noise as people tried to calm you down, Soap and Ghost following behind him along with Alejandro, who joined them with no hesitance after hearing what happened.

Roach approached them, "I don't know, the Sergent just came back like this, like they're in some kind of haze."

"They're drugged, at least, I think. I took a look at them and they don't even look like they recognize us," Gaz struggled to keep you from falling but you were insistent on getting away from him, from everyone. Thankfully, Ghost had come up from behind you without being noticed and locked you in a hold. You tried to flail even more, but with your weakened state and Ghost's strength, all you could do was yell with sloppy words for him to let go of you. It hurt them all to hear you yowl and yelp like an animal in pain, but they knew that you'd only hurt yourself more if Ghost didn't keep you like this. He forced himself to ignore your cries and clenched his jaw, focusing on keeping his temper and how he was going to let it out when given a chance.

"Steamin' Jesus, Price, I thought this was a cartel recon mission?" Soap seethed at the thought of what might've happened. Torture was one thing, but it was this whole new level of "fucked-up" that had him wanting to snap and tear at the throats of your tormentors.

"It was," Alejandro spoke up, "There was talk of a new drug on the market, released even though it was 'incomplete'. Nobody know that it was more dangerous than it was supposed to be, nobody outside of them." The words left a sour taste in his mouth. Cartels being reckless was nothing new to him, it was something he had seen time and time again. But it was the lack of awareness, the blatant disregard for safety and society, and how they betrayed their own people that made him livid. As a leader, he emphasized his loyalty and dedication to his soldiers, which was why he considered those who worked for and with him to be friends or even family, like you. So to him, if someone had messed with you, they were messing with him and his army as well.

Price glanced in the direction of you and Ghost for a moment, watching you finally begin to calm down from tiring yourself out. His gaze softened after you finally went limp, but still breathing, and he felt a pang of disappointment in himself for the briefest of moments. Maybe if he had known you'd leave so early in the day, he could've better prepared you. Maybe he should've assigned one of the others to join you so you wouldn't be in this predicament. But he didn't know. He didn't expect things would go this far south. None of them did.

"We'll finish the job first and then," Price took one last look as you were taken away on a stretcher, unconscious but writhing with a pained expression.

"We give them hell."

#x reader #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty #cod #codmwii #codmw2 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #soap x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #roach x reader #gary roach sanderson x reader #task force 141 x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #los vaqueros x reader #platonic

[undercoverpena]

home and the ghost mug

simon “ghost” riley x reader (cod)

this is unedited, and born from a random thought as I put away dishes and cleaned my kitchen at 1am. warnings: none. themes: fluff, cute mug moment, ghost and a non-military partner. just toothrotting 1am thoughts.

you don’t like to think you live alone, but you know you spend more time waiting, than you have with him.

this time it’s been months. the last contact weeks ago. it’s normal, but it doesn’t lessen the frustration you feel—or how it balls and clumps with worry.

you know you signed on to this. married yourself to the wondering and standing by when you bought the house with him. it’s why you’ve perfected the art of keeping busy, remaining distracted.

today, your mind slips. falls down on the job, scrapes the skin from your knees and bruises your heart. thoughts appearing, the faint sound of his gruff voice echoing in the walls. unable to unsee the shadow of his last time here—how broad he appears in your door frames.

it’s the slip up that means you unconsciously make a tea for yourself in his mug. a no-go, a thing you never do. the cup sacred, forever off limits unless he’s here. the one you’d bought as a joke, wrapped it in paper and watched him stare at it when he unveiled the skull on the side with the bone handle.

“this bought for me?”

“well, it’s not for next door, simon.”

suddenly, you don’t fancy tea. your heart aching, all heavy and downtrodden in your chest. so you pour it away, washing it out and putting it away quickly. because you know it’ll sting seeing it on the drainer in the morning. practically punch you in the gut—because your mind will trick itself into thinking he’s home. that he’s back. for whatever time he can spare.

by the time his car pulls onto the drive, the house is coated in darkness. the moon full, high in the sky. shimmering a luminescent glow on everything and anything it can touch.

you must be tired, shattered. no murmur of his name or quickened footsteps when he slides his key on the lock, when he takes his boots off. he does do it with precision, care—almost mouse like for a man that’s more mountain than man. shoving them away in the contraption you bought sometime between the two of you moving in and him coming back to you.

and because the house is quiet, silent. a pin being dropped sounding like a shout, he begins his routine. the one where he shoves the things away he doesn’t need to have. not needing reminders of what he does as ghost when he’s trying to focus on being simon.

his routine concludes with a shower in the downstairs guest bathroom, watching the places he’s just been slide down the plug hole, all out of sight, out of mind. you know this routine, keeping some of his casual clothes—sweats and tees in a drawer, for moments like this.

even if he should expect it by now, he still smiles as your genuineness. your kindness. the one that comes ti you with ease.

it’s why he craves being next to you, being able to hear your breaths—close his eyes and allow the evidence to bury the niggling worries he amasses when he’s not with you.

but, joining you isn’t possible. discovering you star-fished, snoring lightly—one of his t-shirts covering and concealing you. practically burying you. and so he closes the door, heads back downstairs. running a hand over the back of his head, feeling clumps of long and short hair from his bad diy cut you’ll undoubtedly have things to say about.

but it isn’t until he’s walking past the kitchen, does he notice the mug and glass cupboard ajar. a thought appearing, his hand retrieving his mug and placing it on the side. a sign, he hopes—a bold exclamation that he is home, in case you wake before him.

you don’t wake before him. simon and fucked up body clock, as usual, wakes at the first break of sunlight. only rising from the guest bed when he hears the floorboards above. your feet eventually coming down the staircase, all slow and heavy, his mind imagining you rubbing your eyes, softly sighing at another day.

he waits in the doorway—the one connecting the guest bedroom to the kitchen—watching you come to a standstill, eyes blinking as you stare at the mug.

simon doesn’t know the error you made yesterday, that you’re going through a crisis of whether you’d put it away or not. whether you’d lost your mind from missing him so much.

he just knows you’re not reacting. not whispering, never mind shouting his name. so he clears his throat, loud, purposeful.

and your head spins—he’s even pretty sure he hears it crack—and then the reaction he expected lands.

it erupts over your face. an explosion of confusion and joy, tear-filled eyes and a large smile, before you’re in his arms, face buried against his chest as he feels you shake with sobs he hopes are because you’re happy.

“take it you’re happy i’m home?”

“more than you think.”

his chin comes to rest on the top of your head, fingers stroking up and down your back.

the mug becomes a sign, a beacon.

it only ever used to indicate he was home—a trophy that remains on the side, until he gets the call that he has to go.

then he is the one to put it away, hating how he turns to always find your lips being chewed by your teeth.

“it’ll be back out before you know it.”

“it better be.”

simon doesn’t promise. because he knows—as do you—that there’s none he can keep in the games he plays. he comforts you without words, his mouth slanted over yours.

I’ll always fight to get home to you.

#ghost x reader #cod ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost riley x reader #cod x reader #cod mwii x reader #cod ghost #ghost cod x reader #ghost cod mw2 #ghost cod x you #mwii x reader #ghost x you #Simon Riley x reader #simon riley x you #cod mwii #cod mw2 ghost

[gremlingottoosilly]

[If you need to be mean] chapter 2

Chapter 1

Konig decided to meet his new favorite civilian at the cafe you work at. Unfortunately for both of you, you're both socially awkward. TW: Konig being a huge pervert, Canon-Typical violence, Dub-Con, Innocence kink, Age difference(Konig in his yearly 40, Reader in young 20)

Pairing: Konig x fem!Reader Tags: Fluff, Power Imbalance, Hurt/Comfort, Size Kink, Possessive Konig, Yandere Konig, Creepy scary stalker Konig, written mostly from Konig's perspective

— Did something good happen, colonel? You are practically shining. 

Horangi always had this special ability of telling nonsense with the most serious face and deep voice. He also was the only one in his unit to ever be brave enough to joke with his superior – even though all the other KorTac members usually don’t risk their asses to be put on fire list because of some silly joke. He is the closest König has to a friend – and it’s kinda sad, actually, that a broken gambling addict is the only person who can read his emotions so well, even with his hood and permanently sour expression. 

But something good did happen – you happen, of course. 

He spend a few days of self-reflecting, drinking and punching training manekens in the gym, trying so fucking hard to put your adorable civillian face out of his mind. You were out of sight alright, but the way your features would get distorted into something even more adorable every time he closed his eyes, was concerning. He dealt with those little obsessions before – nothing that a few good rounds of jerking off until he would feel nothing but emptiness and hatred to himself couldn’t handle. He surely can’t fall that deep down, he only saw you for like an hour and it was literally three days ago! 

— I read your reports about the last terrorist encounter. Good job, Horangi. 

— And I heard about that civilian girl you pulled, sir. Thought we are bringing those to the police, not their houses. 

— I had to make sure she wasn't a spy. 

— And she wasn’t? 

König thinks – would be far easier if he would have an official, legal reason to keep you locked up on the base without the right to come out. Would be far easier for him to just think about you as an enemy, so he would have normal reasons for thinking about you constantly, and not feeling guilty. It’s normal to think so much about your enemies – this is what keeps you alive on the field, if you can determine their shortcomings early and make sure that you can fight them. He would love having you as an enemy – it would at least give him some info before starting obsession over little ol’ you. 

— No. 

— That would give us at least some lead to the terrorist cell. Feels like all locals are protecting them from it. 

— I understand your frustration. But at least they are not cutting our pay. 

— We might as well rebel if they’d try to. 

— We are not stepping on terrorist’s route. 

— I was joking, sir. Only thing that’s left here except for card games. 

Horangi hates stationing in this country as much as König is – and, given that he is a sergeant and doesn’t have as much rank expectations, can talk about this openly. This operation is perfect except for the lack of intel, lack of action and lack of basically anything to do – the local forces are handling minor threats, while mercs here are mostly to show off how the government has money to hire them. KorTac would pay for actually having to fight some bad guys around here – but the bigger ones are hiding and lower ones are already getting tracked down by the local military. 

The only interesting thing to do, seemingly, is to obsess over local girls – and König thought he is better than this. 

But he isn’t losing sleep over thinking about how scared and fragile you looked that night. Especially not even going to think about how adorable your little pout was, and the way your hands were trembling. He definitely doesn't want to know every tiny detail about your life, what you like and what you hate, what is your favorite position in bed and the color of underwear you are currently wearing – or even if you are wearing one. And he isn’t some sort of creep that would spend an obnoxiously long amount of time registering on social media – god, he is too old for this shit, it literally feels even more humiliating than his whole school experience – just so he can find your accounts and get instant masturbation material. 

You really shouldn’t post so much half-naked photos – yes, this is a reel from your last summer vacation and yes, this swimsuit looks beautiful on you, but have you ever considered that some creep(not someone like him, he is palming himself very respectfully) would use those photos as a way to get themself off? Terrible, scary, he can’t wait for you to post some new photos – maybe in something that he would buy you, way skimpier and more expensive, so he could protect you from those people. 

He looks at your posts about work – and he hates this stupid blue bird app because it never works for him, always filled with some assholes who are trying to argue with literally everyone, and the way he can’t even see your posts properly because of the weird ads. No, he doesn’t need a “Thing that would make your dick longer” he literally has a problem with making it smaller. No, he doesn’t need some dumb T-shirt even though he kinda reflects with the funny pun about pokemons and would love to wear something containing his major interest even though it would look ridiculous on a 6 '10 killing machine. 

But König reads all of your short posts about the way you hate working in customer service, and his hand is almost slipping to the ad about wedding rings. You hate your job, he hates his – practically soulmates, even though he doesn’t really hate the killing part of his employment, he just doesn’t want to be in charge of people and making them steal the fun of destroying. He would, however, agree to get as many ranks as possible if that would mean providing for you. If that would allow him to be by your side and listen to your sweet voice, he would agree for the next promotion even if higher ups would want him to make some PR wawes and become a fucking fashion model. 

But he is completely sane about you. Totally normal. Absolutely nothing is wrong with him when he can’t even think about visiting you in real life, but he leaves a like on every of your posts in every social media he has – you have terrible online safety habits by the way, he can already see what the inside of your apartment looks like, your place of work from three different angles, and how the front door of your apartment is held together by a very easy to destroy lock. He could snatch it in one deliberate kick, not even speaking about just shooting it. Not like he would need to, he wants you to be with him willingly. Or, at least, don’t fight him too much in case he would actually lose his patience and do something drastic. 

It has already been three days and he feels like he is going crazy. He had those things before, overthinking about tiniest details in someone he never truly knew, but even then he’d understand that he can’t be with them – it could be his school crushes that were, ironically, crushed because of his anxiety. It might be some casual flings with his fellow soldiers that would either get killed in the field or never happen because it would be fraternization. Some random people he saw at the airport and already imagined life with multiple kids and a dog. He always knew he had a problem – but it was never like this before. Never dangerous. 

The problem is – he knows that he can have you. 

Maybe not in a traditional way, he doubts that you would just marry him on the spot, but he can court you at least. He can shower you with gifts or ridiculous tips at your job, he can just snatch you away and leave you as his perfect little bedmate. He can make his men kidnap you, and while it is inhumane and you don’t deserve this, he would calm you down – and then have his happily ever after. 

He knows that he can have you – and it drives him crazy. He could stop himself previously, when he didn’t have anything for himself to be considered desirable – but now, with his rank and all the new opportunities and money it brings, he can’t stop but fantasize. 

You under him, panting and blushing, lips puffy from kisses, skin glazed from sweat and marked with his teeth.

You under him, so wonderfully tight, not letting him go even for an inch – and you are perfectly taking him, no matter how gigantic he is. 

You under him, smiling, cuddling after a long night – every night after a mission, where he could spend his free time deep in your body, listening to your melodic moans and little whines. 

You under…

— Can I…can I take your order, sir? 

He is a disgusting human being because lives of thousand people are on a stake, he would just doom them all if he wouldn’t find those terrorists soon – and he wastes time on sitting in this tiny ass cafe, trying to place himself on the small seat while being all too nervous to just talk to you. Like a person. Of course he had to go to your shift – he already determined which days you were working because it increased the number of angry “I hate my job and want to kill my manager” posts on that dumb social media, and he knows which hours you work at – of course it’s almost night time, the closing shift, because he simply can’t have himself not worry about you. 

He is a creep, weirdo and all that words in a song that he’s been blasting in his tiny headphones all of these days because he can smell the sweetness of your perfume and the way you are munching on the pen you are using to write his order. Oh, yes, order. He is supposed to order something, he can’t just give you money for how adorable you look in that white apron – even though you are absolutely stunning and should get money. 

God, he would murder everyone in this building just for them to never look at your legs again. 

God, he would bury himself between them if only you’d allow him to.

— Sir, is everything okay? 

He served in the military for far longer that you lived, probably. Most of his life, he got used to being referred to as something honorable, or referring to other people like that – and he never thought that just being referred to as “sir” would make his dick twitch in his pants. He crosses his legs, hoping not to get too imposing – he already towers over the tiny table like a giant he is, barely even fitting in it. He thinks he has a healthy amount of self-control – then he looks at you again, and thanks all the gods he knows for the mask he is wearing – at least under the black surgeon piece and dark glasses you won’t really see his blush. Or that little twitching in his eyes that is indicating danger. 

— Sorry, I…can I, um, have a coffee? Bitte…please, I mean. 

He hates how nervous he is – like high school again, asking his crush out just to be ridiculed. But you look perfect like this – controlled environment, you can’t just laugh at him and say that he is a weird nerd from another class, you have a manager who is controlling of such behavior. He would never tell on you, of course, he wants you to be happy, even if this job makes you the most miserable – even though he kinda thinks of you as a weak for this, his job literally involves killing people and he doesn't argue that much! 

But you giggle – sweet, innocent sound, it drives him crazy even more than he previously was. It doesn’t feel like those girls at school – yes, he still can’t let that go, even though his therapist says he has to – and he loses all control at how beautiful you sound. He wants to take you away right now, pay you for your workplace however you get them, and just use you as he wants – no matter how socially unacceptable. He protects this country, he has the right for a little prize, right? No, this would be terrible, he shouldn’t just harass sweet little civilians like you, he should…

— What type of coffee, sir? Do you want some dessert? 

This is a typical question, he was at cafes and coffee shops a thousand times but, for some reason, it feels almost like you are teasing him. You bite the end of your pen with those adorable teeth of yours – he wants to feel it on his fingers, he wants you to leave bite marks all over his body as a sign of marking him as yours. He smiles under his mask, hoping that you would somehow feel it – how happy you make him feel, how hard it’s for him not to lose control. 

— No. Just coffee. 

— Sugar? 

He would like some sugar, of course – but the one he wants is probably not for sale, even though that adorable white apron of yours makes you look like a candy. He would love to unwrap you from those silly clothes and devour what belongs to him for the right of protector, but he knows how scared you might be. He is not a good person, he killed more people that he could count – countless fathers, sons, mothers, he shouldn’t even think about having a right for a family of his own after all of this. He is not a good person and his moral code changes with every kill he gets – but for hell sake, he wants to be nice with you. You deserve it, he knows. More than he is, for sure. 

König doesn’t really like sugary stuff, it was always too childish, made him too energetic, disrupted his very peculiar way of eating things. Sweets makes him only more hungry, makes him crave more, and he wants to be as serious as possible – so he usually drinks and eats stuff that is no tastier than a pile of dry sand. But he responds before he can think, too focused on that shiny lipgloss you have on your lips. He would lick and bite it all – soon, he hopes. 

— Ja. Thank you. 

— Good choice, sir.

Your lips are curling into a small, shy smile and he likes sugar now. He isn’t sure if you are telling everyone that their order is a good choice, maybe you just want to get more tips, but he hopes that maybe, he is special. Maybe there is something nice happening to him after all. A small reward for not being a total monster on the last mission he had, even though he could. He can’t do anything but to stare at you, his only saving grace is the dark lenses of his glasses – he can’t wear his hood in civil situations, unfortunately, people would stare, stare, stare and that would make him want to pull their eyes out. 

But you smile and he smiles also, even if you can’t see it. He is looking at your legs and, fuck, he is a disgusting old creature that preys upon younger women because he never had a positive experience before. He is a total creep and a monster that should be put down already – but he stares at your legs under that waitress dress, and he would pay your manager a few thousand Euros to cut the length of your skirt in half. 

Then he sees all the others looking at you the same way – old people, young people, there aren’t a lot of guests at this time in the evening, most people are afraid of going into public places while the war on terrorism is going on. There aren’t a lot of people while it’s almost closing time, but he doesn't even want to think about all the other men looking at you like this. Devouring you with their eyes, probably leaving sleazy comments as you go through the small cafe, just as overworked as your other coworkers. He wants to take you from here. 

You don’t deserve people looking at you like you aren’t even a person – only he can look at you respectfully, stripping you with his eyes. He can be soft for you, can be perfect – if you would just let him. 

König doesn’t want to be a creep around you, but he was looking at your legs for five minutes already, picturing the way your body would look under all of these clothes, and his cock gets painfully hard. He thanks himself for wearing normal, baggy pants, not something tighter – at least his embarrassment is completely covered by his clothes. 

— Here is your coffee. Anything else? 

You look nervous, of course – but he seems way softer than he was a couple days ago, at night. The absence of his creepy mask is obviously helping, and because he is sitting, you don’t have to tilt your head too high, causing your neck to stretch uncomfortably. He looks awkwards, like a big dog that still tries to fit into his old bed, and it causes you to smile a little bit more. You made sure to place a couple of sugar cubes on the plate, so he could decide for himself, if he wants to use them all – but the mere thought of that giant of a man, a colonel, hardened soldier liking something silly and sweet is making you giggle. 

He looks way softer than he was that night, and you can almost forget about how scared you were – how you were thinking that this would be the end for you, that one, overthinking part of your mind already making up the scenarios of getting martial lawed because of the broken curfew. You can even see his hair – and fight the urge to touch it a little. He is still who-knows-how-old and still a military presence in your peaceful country. 

You still want to ruffle his hair. 

He still wants to take your clothes off and make you his. 

— Nein, thank you. 

He stares at the cup for a good few seconds – if he wants to drink, he needs to actually take it off. He has many scars on his face, and his mouth sometimes feels like it has more dead skin than alive one – he doesn’t want to attract attention. Some people are already staring at his badge and how awkward a giant man like him looking in that cozy, tiny place – but he also wants you to see how much pain he can withstand without getting killed. How he can protect you from anything because there literally isn’t anything he won’t do for you. You would appreciate a man with scars, it’s a sign of bravery, right? 

Then he thinks about all the times he would take off his mask and how people around him would look at him – with pity, with fear, with disgust sometimes even though he is certain that his face isn’t as deformed as some other parts of his body. He even almost managed to grow a beard once! Then he had to scrub it all off because hair was growing in very uneven patches and he looked like something crawled on his chin and died. 

König fought in countless battles, spent his youth training to be the best killer possible, took part in many major conflicts and killed hundreds of people while feeling nothing but recoil. He isn’t afraid of anything – except for talking to people sometimes, maybe, and even now he is trying to work on it with his therapist, instead of just killing anyone who looks at him funny. He isn’t afraid of the dark, of death, of uncertainty in his life. But he is afraid of you looking at him unmasked and thinking that you, in fact, find him disgusting. 

You almost want to take your time to look at what he will do – is he going to take off his mask? Is he going to drink right through the fabric? You have too much work to just stay at his table and stare, even if you want to – but you are trying to give him occasional glances as he just…sits at his table. Not even moving, just staring at the cup and sometimes moving his head to look at you – or just ornaments at the wall behind you. Yes, probably the ornament. 

König sits at the table and, well, he doesn’t even want to drink his coffee because just looking at the way your ass sways under that terribly short skirt is enough to set him on fire. He wants to take you home with him – even though his home is all the way up in Austria. He would take you, you probably wouldn’t even be mad at you – you could be a perfect little family. He already waited too long to start one, never finding anyone who would win his heart for a long run but he was sure that this three-days-obsession would last long. He isn’t sure, however, if he likes it or not. 

He ended up not drinking at all – he knows that he can’t just waste multiple hours, he already got his lieutenants covering the spot with paper work while their commander is away at searching for the love of his life. He wants to be with you longer, probably walk you home again and make sure to protect you from any creeps that would want to attack. He can’t have that, it’s obvious – he is a colonel, unfortunately, he is still on the hunt for those terrorists, he can barely give himself an hour of free time these days. 

He already indulged in his fantasies too much when he folds a 100 Euros banknote and puts it into the bill – not sure about how much money it is here, not wanting to give you any trouble with exchanging currency, he just hopes that would be enough for you to at least not worry about food for a few days. Or buy yourself something nice – what girls like these days? Guns, books, some fancy lip gloss, a hat for their adorable little turtles? He would buy you a pet turtle, he always wanted one as a kid – right before his father said that all lizards are products of sinful corporations and a lazy pet like a turtle, unlike a giant dog breed, is completely useless and unmanly. 

He doesn’t want to be here when you’ll get the bill – he is too afraid that he didn’t gave you enough, that you'd be disappointed. He would love to give you more, of course, but he doesn’t want to just shove you the money like you are some sort of cheap whore – he wants to give you gifts, something meaningful, to steal you from poverty altogether. König is an expert in infiltration and escaping arts, he can exit the location without anyone noticing a thing, even with his size – and then you look at him, directly into his eyes, covered by sunglasses – and your face is twisted in shock as you realize what exactly he left you. 

— Wait, sir! Please, I…god, I will get you the change right now, I’m so sorry, it’s closing shift, I…I’m sorry, I completely forgot…

You are almost begging him to stop and let you give him his money, a honorable deed really – but all he can think of is how nice you would look on your knees, begging him to fuck you already. How perfect you would look all whiny and spoiled, asking him for something expensive, whatever your cute head would want. You would look so complete on his lap, tugging on his shirt and asking your daddy for a new toy. You would…

— It was a tip. Take it. 

He wants to be able to tell you how perfect you look, how he wants to just throw you over his shoulder in a totally non-creepy way and make you his little wifey. How he would take multiple months of leave to just be with you, marry you, breed you. He wants to have a way with words, but they are useless to him – he can’t even say he likes you, it’s embarrassing, he is almost forty, he got his rank as youngest colonel in history of KorTac, he can literally have almost everything he wants – except for basic social skills. 

He feels like a creep, an old man trying to steal that perfect girl from the shiny world, and he hates himself for it – but then you blush and he can almost convince himself that yeah, you like that creep too. 

— I…shit, I mean, sorry…thank you, sir. 

— Don’t wander at night again. 

He feels like a scolding father and you giggle again, too innocent and naive to understand his thoughts. 

— I won’t. Promise. 

He then slowly leans closer, puts a hand on your shoulder again – goosebumps are running on your skin. His head is near yours now, he is whispering in your ear – and you are almost sure that you shouldn’t have come closer to him like this, that it’s unprofessional from your side, that everyone is staring at you. They are – and you try to ignore it, but…

— Wear shorts under your skirt next time. Never know who might look at your legs like that. 

You would slap him here and there. You would scream and run away right now, but for some stupid, dumb, completely terrifying reason, you…almost like how protective he sounds. And the money he gave you is also helping – even if just a little bit. 

König looks at the way you blush even more, and he knows already that he won’t ever let you go. 

Tag list: @iwritesjud3

Please write if you want to be tagged in the next chapter!

#call of duty #cod x reader #cod x you #cod #konig mw2 #konig x reader #reader insert #yandere #yandere konig #yandere x reader #yandere cod #fem reader

[wildechildwrites]

Attitude Adjustment

Simon "Ghost" Riley/Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Light angst, violence

No use of Y/N

Summary: Ghost beats the shit out of you no I will not elaborate

A:N: Ghost's hands are rated E for everyone

AO3 Link: Attitude Adjustment

You're sitting in furious silence during the mission debrief, Gaz and Soap shooting you sympathetic glances that you pointedly ignore, Price's anger filling the room like natural gas, smothering you. Ghost leans against a wall, shadowed and silent. 

Price finally dismisses everyone else with a bark, and you’re left alone with your fuming captain and his silent lieutenant, haunting your peripheral. 

“You ignored a direct order.” Price’s voice is gruff, leaving no room for argument. You know you should apologize, but you can’t stomach it. Not when you saved his goddamn life.

“You think I was just going to let them kill you?” You ask, indignant. Price glares at you.

“I think, corporal, that you ignored a direct order from your commanding officer.” Price’s tone is sharp and dismissive. 

"You put yourself and the rest of your team in danger. You could've been killed. You almost were."

“But sir–” You object, still trying to justify yourself. If he would just listen– Price shoots up from his desk, stabbing a finger towards the door. 

“Don't fucking argue with me," He growls, chest heaving. "Get out."

You stand, stunned, feeling your traitorous tear ducts begin to sting. Ghost has offered nothing, and you catch his cold gaze before spinning around and storming out, slamming the door behind you. 

You knew you were out of line, had vaulted out of order the moment you ignored Price, the moment you ignored every instinct the military had beaten into you, but it wasn't fair. He would’ve pulled the same stupid bullshit if the situation was reversed. You scrub angrily at your eyes, potent rage bubbling in your chest. He was singling you out on purpose, angry at you for something he would’ve excused had it been anyone else. You turn a corner, stomping down the hallway. 

Soap is lingering near your room, acting far too interested in the leaky ceiling tiles. He spins around to face you when he hears your footsteps, opening his mouth to say something, but you cut him off before he can speak.

"Just don’t Johnny.” You snarl, aiming for a biting tone. It comes out as a plea, and the Scotsman gives you a pitying look that just stokes the rage curling in your chest. He steps in front of you, trying to slow your momentum, and you purposefully slam your shoulder into him, ignoring him as he calls after you.

You make a beeline for the gym, heading for a punching bag. Your fingers are numb, and you can’t stop shaking, so you throw yourself at the bag, hurling punch after punch. 

“Price ripped into you good.” Ghost calls out from behind you. You jump, throwing him a sour look over your shoulder in response. You hadn’t heard him come in, unsure of how long he’s been standing there.

“You ripped into him right back.” He observes. His gaze is cold, prickling along your spine. You bite your tongue, landing a hard kick on the bag. 

“Heard you also barked at Johnny.” He adds, as if an afterthought, his tone deceptively casual. You know then that you’re in real trouble. You’d been a bitch to Mactavish, and now Ghost was here to defend his honor. You roll your eyes, giving yourself that small amount of defiance before turning to face him. 

He’s wrapping his hands, standing on the sparring mat closest to you. He cocks his head, eyes flat and expressionless, but the challenge is clear. You're angry enough to take the bait, abandoning your punching bag. 

Ghost wordlessly gets into a fighting stance. You mirror him, waiting for the lecture, and the first blow almost knocks you on your ass.

You’ve sparred with Ghost before, but you don't think he's ever hit you that hard. It's staggering, and you double over slightly. Simon doesn’t give you a second to recuperate, throwing another punch. You barely dodge it, sliding under his arm, aiming for his ribs. You’re sloppy, and he blocks you, adding a shove to throw you off balance. It’s a dirty move, one that pisses you off even more, and you’re back on the defensive, protecting yourself as Simon throws another punch, harder than the first. You block it with more success, then move closer, aiming low. He blocks you again. 

You’re panting, already exhausted from the mission, heat in your cheeks, anger building. Ghost has the advantage, twice your size and fucking mean, and you’re just trying to defend yourself. That’s all you’ve been doing all fucking day, defending yourself from your own goddamn team. 

You kick him hard in the stomach. Ghost seems unaffected, those cold eyes unreadable. You throw another punch, putting all your weight into it, and he grabs your arm, using your momentum against you, flipping you over his shoulder. You slam onto your back on the mat. 

“What the fuck Si-” you snap, and he kicks you in the ribs. You scramble backwards, trying to regain your footing as he advances on you. 

“Price is too relieved that you’re still alive to give you a proper punishment for insubordination.” He says. "I have no such scruples." 

Ghost’s blank expression doesn’t change, not even when he slams his boot into your shoulder, sending you tumbling onto your back again. You glare up at him, your chest heaving.

“Fuck you.” You spit.

“You need to remember who your superiors are,” Ghost continues evenly, ignoring you. 

You go to stand, and he knocks you over once again. You practically snarl at him, shooting out and grabbing his leg. Using his body weight against him, you bring him crashing down onto the floor next to you, then slam your knee into his stomach, knocking the air out of him. Your victory is cut short when Ghost grabs you and flips the two of you over, pinning you to the floor with his body weight. 

“You scared all of us,” he says. His eyes are still flat and cold. “Pull something like that again, I’ll pop your shoulder out of socket.”

You grapple against him, cursing, but he just tightens his grip, pinning your arms. It hurts, your shoulders and ribs screaming, the air being crushed out of your lungs by the weight of the giant man on top of you, but you keep fighting him.

“Get off,” you rasp. Ghost leans down, his face inches from yours.

“Are you done being a brat?” He asks lowly. You manage to twist one of your hands enough to dig your fingernails into his stomach. In response, Ghost grabs your wrist, pulling your arm behind you with enough force to wrench your shoulder. You’re completely immobilized.

It’s all too much. The exhaustion and pain, the anxiety of the mission, the humiliation of being reprimanded, the indignant rage that’s been bubbling inside of you. Everything comes crashing down, tears you’ve been fighting all day suddenly pouring out. You let out an involuntary sob, and Simon lets up, just enough to allow you to breathe, keeping you pinned beneath him as your tears build up steam.

“There’s our girl,” he says, his gravelly voice uncharacteristically soft, almost frayed. It only makes you cry harder, keening wails muffled by the large man on top of you.You're confused at the sudden switch, overwhelmed and disoriented. He rubs comforting circles into your wrist, and you’re falling apart, coming unspooled.

You sob until you run out of tears, your cries trailing off into sniffling, and only then does Ghost let you up. The anxiety and anger is gone, leaving tender exhaustion, the soreness from the fight a tangible sensation, grounding you. 

“I think a hot shower is in order, corporal” Ghost says gently, helping you to your feet. You’re wobbly, trailing after him on unsteady legs as he leads you to the locker room.

He leaves you to it, disappearing back into the gym, and you strip, letting the warm water wash off the rest of the day, standing under the stream until your eyes are drooping. 

To your surprise, Ghost is waiting for you when you get out, eyes closed, head resting against the wall. He looks tired, his dark circles a bruised shade of purple, showing through the half smeared off black paint. He opens his eyes, expression unreadable, and you sit down next to him.

“Apologize to Soap, will ya? He’s gutted. Sensitive, that one,” Ghost grumbles, rolling his eyes, but there’s real warmth behind the gruff, dismissive tone of voice. “And the next time you want a lashing, come straight to me instead of stomping about.” 

Heat rises unexpectedly to your face, and you open your mouth to protest. 

Simon holds up a finger, silencing you before you can say anything. 

“Don’t fight me on it, we both know that’s what you needed. Price would've gladly taken you over his knee, but I figured you’d bite our heads clean off at the suggestion."

Your brain short circuits, your mouth opening and closing wordlessly as you stare at Ghost. He holds your gaze unflinchingly.

“I should, um,” you stutter, stumbling to your feet, “I should go find Soap.” 

You practically run to the doors, and you swear as you step into the hallway you hear quiet laughter, echoing behind you.

#if I say this is a vent fic are yall gonna be weird #looney tunes pt 3 coming soon promise #ghost #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost x reader #cod x reader #cod mw2 #reader insert #ghost/reader #simon riley x reader

[meatonfork]

need me a fluff fic with the entire task force 141 at a club but some men gets handsy with grim and everyone else beats the shit out of them

Hands Off

——————————————————————————————————————

pairings: platonic 141 x grin

warnings: alcohol, violence, non-consensual touches, ghost fuming

summary: grim gets touched inappropriately and their boys are not happy

———————————————————————————————————————

your mission was successful. and, with a success comes a reward.

you lot had booked a hotel, and then decided to hit a local club for some drinks. seeing as you were only 20, being in a country that allowed you to drink at 18 was an even bigger win.

you could hold your own. alcohol never affected you too deeply until around the seventh drink. 

you were sat around a table, laughing at something soap had said, when you decided you wanted another drink.

“hey, i’ll be right back. just getting another drink.” you got up with a smile gracing your face. this was the most laid back the guys had seen you. your hair was down in it’s natural waves, and you finally wore something that wasn’t military-esque clothing. some mom jeans and a light colored graphic tee. your converse lightly tapped the bar’s floor below you. 

waving down the bartender, you told her your order and waited patiently for your drink. you all decided to put it on price’s tab without telling him. 

you felt a presence next to you. expecting it to be soap or gaz, you turned with a wide smile. 

it wasn’t soap, or gaz.

in fact, you didn’t know who this man was. he was tall and had a dark beard. his hair was fluffy and hung above his eyebrows. he was fit and seemed to be around 6′2.

you tilted your head, squinting your eyes, “can i help you, sir?” your smile didn’t leave your face, but it did falter a bit when you saw it wasn’t your boys.

“hey, yeah. i think you can, actually.” he bit his lower lip and made eye contact.

“okay..?”

“you mind if i buy someone this pretty a drink?” his voice was gruff, but it sent the wrong shivers down your spine. you didn’t trust him. not one bit.

“uh, actually, i do mind. you don’t need to do that.” your voice was even and soft. you didn’t want to be rude, yet you really wanted nothing to do with him.

“oh, come on. just one drink! you’re too pretty to be buyin’ your own drinks, sweetheart.” he was persistent, you’d give him that.

“no, really. it’s fine.” you were short with your answer. your eyes narrowed and your smile fell completely. 

your brows pulled together when he shifted closer. he lifted a hand to wrap a finger around one of your curls.

“i insist.” he just wouldn’t drop it.

you scoot back, but his hand grips your waist.

you tried to push him off, but his hand slid down to your ass, giving a rough squeeze. ick.

you let out a yelp and his face moved closer and planted the sloppiest, wettest kiss you’ve ever had the displeasure of receiving.

your eyes widened and you kept pushing.

when he pulled back you yelled, “what the fuck! get the hell off me!”

gaz’s head snapped over at the sound of your distress. your small figure was pushing on a man much bigger than you, eyes frantic and full of panic.

“oh, shit. guys.”

“what?” 

gaz pointed to where you were struggling across the bar.

the sound of a chair being pushed back and thunderous footsteps headed your way.

“hey! get off ‘em!” soap’s voice sounded over the music, and the man was pulled back.

“they told you to stop. get off.” price gently grabbed your arm and pulled you to the side. your vision was slightly blurry from tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.

“i’m good. i’m good, really.” a whisper left your mouth.

“who the fuck even are you guys? can’t a guy get a nice piece of ass in peace? i mean, look at the ti-” the guy was cut off when ghost wound his arm back and punched him in the mouth. 

“oh, shit. ghost stop!” your voice was shrill with panic and you jumped forward to grab his arm. but, he managed another punch as the guy stood up. you froze, panicked. 

“don’t.” punch. “fucking.” punch. “touch them.” punch. 

you took this as your queue to finally grab his arm. 

“stop. stop. i’m okay. let’s leave.” hearing your voice made ghost still, and he turned to leave. price dug his wallet out and slammed a few $100 bills on the counter and rushed to follow the rest of you, not before spitting on the sad piece of shit on the ground. 

the whole way back to the hotel gaz had his arm in yours, and soap was talking nonsense to get a smile out of you. which worked, by the way. 

once back to the hotel, you changed into sweats and threw your hair up in a bun. you grabbed a blanket and left the room, locking your door behind you.

navigating the halls to a certain masked man’s door, you knocked lightly. “ghost? it’s me, grim. can i come in?”

the door opened and ghost took a step back to let you in. he had changed into sweats, as well as a sweatshirt. his mask stayed on, but his eyes gave away enough to see that he was still pissed.

 you shuffle in and he closed the door behind you gently.

you sat the blanket on his bed before turning and grabbing his hand, leading him to the bathroom. “c’mon, big guy. let’s look at your hand.” you smiled up at him and turned on the light. 

“sit.” your finger pointed to the toilet, and he obliged. grabbing a small towel, you ran it under warm water before standing between his legs and lifting his hand. 

you worked in complete silence, wiping the blood from his cracked knuckles. he studies your face the whole time. you were content. after a few minutes, a small chuckle left your mouth.

“s’funny?” his voice was raspy and you laughed a little harder.

“nothing, really. but, you looked so pissed. thank you, by the way. i really appreciate what you did.” you made eye contact with your gentle giant and gave him a toothy smile.

“yeah, yeah. whatever.” he dismissed you, but his eyes crinkled at the edges. he was smiling back. 

you finished bandaging his hands with some small talk here and there.

“movie night?” you sounded tired.

“yeah, movie night.” a squeal left your lips and you ran out the bathroom, flopping on the bed.

a small chuckle left his lips, and he crawled under the blanket you were holding up for him. once he settled, you crawled to his side and put your full weight on his left side, and turned on a movie.

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a/n: hope you enjoyed reading this, loves <3

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #soap #john soap mactavish x reader #soap cod #john soap mactavish #john price x reader #john price #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #cod mw2 #cod #cod mw2 imagine #cod x reader #cod mw22 #mw2 #mw2022 #141 x reader #task force 141 #grim au

[kitkatscabinet]

Limerence

Pairing: John Price x reader

Summary: While on leave John runs into an older but still familiar face, he let you slip through his fingers once and he’s determined to make sure it doesn’t happen again.

Word count: 1.3k

The first few days of leave are always a difficult adjustment. It takes conscious effort to pull himself from the commanding mindset that is captain. More than a few times John’s rolled out of bed earlier than necessary out of nothing more than habit, halfway out the door before it sinks in that he’s not on base. He’s never quite sure what to do, he’s very few friends outside the military and there’s an instinct hammering at his mind, to move, to do something. There are only so many books one can read or exercises be done.

That’s why it is a relief when he tries to find a shirt for the day and realises too many are ruined with stains or simply don’t fit anymore. Even if the crowded bustling of the store sets him on edge, eyes instinctively scanning his surroundings for threats. It’s only when he notices, his feet slowing to a stop as he stares. It can’t be you… can it?

He watches intently as you turn to the side, letting him see more than just your profile. Just like that John feels like a lovesick boy once more, staring longingly from across the classroom as you chewed the top of your pen absentmindedly.

There are crinkles in the corners of your eyes where there wasn’t before, but almost everything else is the same, is so clearly you. He’s moved closer before he can stop to think, a confident swagger in his gait as he approaches with a warm smile.

You haven’t really seen him yet, probably don’t recognise him, not that you could be blamed for that. It isn’t until he’s already at your side, hand raised and your name on his lips before it clicks how creepy he must look. Some random man seemingly accosting you in what he’s just now realising to be the children’s section.

The damage is already done though and you turn to assess the new presence in your space with a slightly furrowed brow. He watches as your eyes flicker across his face for some sign of recognition, arms crossed as if to guard yourself. He starts to open his mouth, rapidly trying to backpedal before you punch the air from his lungs with a single word. Not just any word, but his name.

“John?” There’s surprise in your tone and just a little bit of confused breathlessness that he knows he’ll be revisiting in his dreams that night. He’s so stunned that you remember him that it takes a few moments before he nods, eyes never once leaving your form. “Oh my god, how long has it been? What nearly… twenty years, fuck. That makes me feel old” you laughed, still somewhat in disbelief.

Surreptitiously his eyes dart to your left hand. Ring finger bare with no signs it had ever been claimed and it’s with smug satisfaction that he notices your eyes trailing over his from too. He especially doesn’t miss the way your eyes linger on his biceps, trailing down his thighs before quickly darting back up to his face.

“You look good, a far cry from the boy I knew in high school that’s for sure.” He blinks at that… were you flirting with him?

“And you’re as stunning as ever” your eyes widen slightly at his reply, the surety in his tone leaving you a little flustered.

“Oh stop it, now I know you’re pulling my leg” you try to deflect and he frowns, did you really not see yourself the way he did? That would have to change, quickly.

“I’d never lie about that. Thought you were gorgeous in high school but you’re even more perfect now” there’s an alarming amount of conviction to his words, a confident nonchalance that leaves you reeling. It’s probably for the best that a little voice calls your name before running up towards you, lest you say something incredibly embarrassing.

Price watches with a slightly strained grin, of course someone had given you a kid already. No ring didn’t necessarily mean no partner, though John was of the opinion that whoever it was needed a swift kick up the arse for not giving you one.

The boy stops his excited chatter abruptly, turning to him in blatant curiosity. “Who’s that?” The attempt at a whisper is a little hilarious but Price plays along.

“Ah, this is John, a friend from high school”

“Oh, so he’s old like you then.”

“Charlie!” You scold in embarrassment and just a little bit of horror, eyes darting back to John to assure no offence was taken. He’s quick to offer a reassuring smile and a shrug.

“The lads not entirely wrong”

“Yeah, but his mother’s already on my case about swearing. Last thing I need is her blaming me for atrocious manners too. Speaking of, where are mine! John, this is my nephew Charlie.” The introduction allows for a small tendril of hope to unfurl in his chest once more. Using his guardian's apparent distraction, the kid tries to sneak both the toys in his hands into the basket now placed at your feet. Unfortunately for him, he’s still too young to have properly grasped the concept of stealth. You make a chiding noise, hands on your perfect hips, and John has to wrench his gaze back to the kid before he starts to picture it’s his own hands grabbing you instead.

“Ah! I told you, one. Now go put one of them back” there’s no room for argument in your tone but still the boy narrows his eyes somewhat defiantly. Bottom lip jutting out like that will make you change your mind, obviously it doesn’t.

“Listen to ‘em kid” he grumbles. It's a habit, years of disciplining young boys thinking themselves men that has the statement slipping. An apologetic look is thrown your way but you seem grateful, no sign of annoyance at his potential overstep. Charlie, on the other hand, does not look impressed with his interference. It’s nothing short of adorable, and for a split second he thinks the stink eye resembled a look he’d received many a time from Soap. Holding back a chuckle, his eyes never leave the kids as he gets the distinct impression he’s being sized up. Finally the kid blinks, turning with a huff as he reluctantly trudged off to return the toy.

You turn to apologise once the kids out of ear shot but John waves you off, “nothing to apologise for love.” Once again his words are rewarded with your flustered face as you shuffle nervously from foot to foot.

“I-“

“Let me take you on a date” the words leave his mouth without much thought, any plans to woo you going straight out the window. You blink in astonishment and just as Price readies himself for rejection your new nephew appears once more, obviously still upset at not getting his way. Tugging at your hand insistently, done with today's expedition. A sigh of exasperation leaves your lips as you gently scold the impatient boy. Holding out your phone you grin,

“Here, give me your number, I’ll text you a time and place.” Dumbfounded, his hands shake a little as he hurries to fulfill your request, almost outright dropping your phone as you lean in to whisper, “I’ve been waiting twenty years, hope you’re ready to live up to expectations.” Taking your phone from his grasp, you lean in to give him a light kiss on the cheek, pulling away all too soon to cater to your demanding nephew. With one last wink and a wave Price watches in a daze as you leave, eyes drawn to the sway of your hips as a hand runs down his face.

The clothes could wait, he needed to get home as soon as possible, before the memory of your scent and the feel of your lips on his skin faded. Though as he walks swiftly to his car it occurs to him that it was the visible love you held for your nephew that really stirred something in him. You clearly loved kids, and John had always wanted his own, he just hoped you'd agree that sooner was better than later.

#john price #x reader #john price x reader #cod mw x reader #cod mw #captain price

[miniwheat77]

Anger. (141 x Reader.)

!cheating, violence, blood, guns, military talk, 141 is there for reader during hardship. NO MINORS!

*not edited*

Your hands shake violently as you sit on your couch.

You’re waiting for him to come home, you’ve got every bit of proof you need sitting in front of you.

You hear his car pull in the driveway, and you gather everything off of the table. Holding it in your hands. You hear his car beep as he locks it. The door opens and he steps inside, freezing when he sees you sitting there. The TV is off which is unusual. “Uh.. hey.” He says, confused.

“Come sit down.” You entwine your fingers together, resting your elbows on your knees. “Is.. everything okay?”

“Just sit down.” You sigh. You’re surprised when he listens. He sits down in the chair off to your right. You slide the hoop earrings from beside you and lay them out on the coffee table in front of you. “Who’s are those?” You ask. “I think they’re my sisters.”

You nod your head. Standing up. “Than I suppose these are hers too?” You raise the panties up, setting them down near the hoops. He stands up too. He knows he’s caught by this point, but hopes he can still weasel his way out of this. “Cause that’s pretty weird. But I’d get it, if I hadn’t found this too.” You throw down the burner phone. The one he’d been using to contact other women while you’ve been out on deployment. He’d been meeting up with random women for months now.

He’s quiet. “Y/N. Listen to me-“ he makes a move to touch you. You raise your shirt up, flashing him the pistol that lies in your waistband. “You come near me and I swear to god I’ll shoot you.” He takes a deep breath. Stepping back.

“Get out.” You cross your arms.

“Y/N. No. We need to talk about this!”

“There is absolutely nothing to talk about. I’m gonna get out of the lease, I’m moving out. Your name isn’t on it anyways, so get your shit and go. You have 10 minutes.” You sit down. He looks down. Knowing there’s nothing he can do to fix it. He gathers all of his stuff which isn’t much and as he’s passing the couch, he tries to start but you don’t acknowledge him.

The door opens and a girl walks inside, and you can feel the rage starting to boil inside you. “Who is that?” You turn to him. “Why do you care?” She makes her way inside closer, seemingly to help him carry his stuff out. “Looks like I’m your replacement.” She smiles. “Oh yeah? You’re proud of being a home wrecker?” You stand up. He can see you’re getting stiff, taking a step closer with your fists balled at your sides. A clear sign that if she doesn’t back off she’s going to leave in an ambulance. “Hey, come on. Don’t.” He tugs her back. “Nah, she’s stupid.”

“Oh, I’m stupid.” You laugh. “I’m not fighting over a cheater, he’s all fucking yours sweetheart.” You laugh.

“But you better remember who’s house you’re in.” You stand tall. “I don’t care.” She moves closer, getting into your face. Her nose is nearly touching yours.

“Hey! I said don’t!” He goes to pull her back. That’s when she takes a swing at you.

She hits you right in the nose and you take a step back, holding onto it. You can feel it starting to drip down your face. You wipe it off, seeing the blood on your hands. The hair on your body stands up. Maybe it’s what you’ve seen in the military triggering you. But she’s a threat. And threats get neutralized.

You lunge at her, taking a swing.

Training in the military means you pack a punch. You knock her back onto the ground and climb on top of her. You get a few good hits in, deciding you were done. You stand up, giving her a good kick to the ribs before drawing your pistol from your waistband and pointing it at your now ex-boyfriend. “You’re fucking stupid for bringing her here.” His hands are raised up in surrender.

He’s genuinely scared that you’re going to shoot him. “Get her and all of your shit. And if I hear one word, one fucking thing. You’ll both leave here in body bags.” You point the gun at her. Seeing tears start to stream from her eyes. “GO!” You scream. They both scramble, picking up his bags and leaving. You pace back and fourth, setting your gun down on the coffee table. You turn to the side. Taking a deep breath. You’ve trained to be in stressful situations. You kill people and watch innocent people die every day and you can’t take this.

You swipe everything off of the shelf by your tv. Destroying any and everything in your wake in your fit of rage. Your knuckles are bloodied and you’re sure you’ve got glass in them from the tv by the time you’re done. You slide your gun back into your waistband and hurry outside. Lifting your phone up. Your hands shake violently as you look for your captains contact. He would know what to do. He always did.

“Y/N?” He asks. “Hey.”

“What’s going on? Is everything okay?” He asks.

“Uh.. well.” You laugh. Holding back the pain that seeps through your every pore. “Not really. Is it okay if I come back to base? I won’t need that week off after all.”

“I’ll see you in 10 sergeant.” He sighs. He could hear the pain in your voice. You can’t hide it from someone like him.

“Everything okay?”

The other 4 members of the task force sit around the oak table in the conference room. “No. Something happened. She’s on her way back to base.”

“Shit. I hope she’s okay.”

“She’s fine. She’s a fucking brick wall. Probably just that scumbag she’s with.”

You don’t think to clean up. Your upper lip and around your mouth have blood around it from the hit you took. Your knuckles are busted and bruised. You’re sure you look like shit. You speed to the base, you shouldn’t but you needed to get there. The only people you could even handle anymore are them. Your family. The only family you’ve ever had that give a shit about you.

After identifying yourself on base, you pull into the parking lot. Parking where you usually do. Next to Johnny’s truck. You lock your car up and make your way inside. You don’t know what awaits you. You don’t know what they’ll say or if you can even keep it together.

“Hey.” A voice drags you out of your thoughts. It’s Laswell.

“They’re waiting for you in the conference room sweetheart.” She smiles sympathetically. “Thank you Kate.” You smile. Your heart aches in your chest.

She would talk more, but she knows who you’re after. Your bothers.

You open the door and step inside, closing it behind yourself. “Shit- you okay?” Gaz stands up immediately. Soap follows suit. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

Price beats him to it and he steps closer, tilting your face to get a good look at your nose. “It’s not broken but it’s gonna hurt like a son of a bitch for a while.” He mumbles. “Did he do this?”

You shake your head. “No.”

“Start talking.” He pushes you further up with his hand in your lower back. Helping you sit down in a chair. You sigh. He disappears out the door for a second, coming back with a washcloth. He washes the blood from your nose first, moving to your knuckles. It takes you a few minutes before you can talk without breaking down.

“I.. got home before he did. Found a phone on my coffee table.” You sigh. “It was.. a burner phone. He’d been using it for the last few months to meet up with other women online.” You look down. “Jesus.” Soap mumbles.

“Asshole.” Gaz groans.

“Prick from the start.” Ghost rolls his eyes.

All of their commentary makes you laugh. “I told him to pack his shit. He had a girl come help him move his shit and she sucker punched me. So I.. I guess I blacked out. I was on top of her, got a couple hits in. And than I-“ you freeze up, “I just told them to leave and they left.” You flinch slightly as he picks a piece of glass from your knuckle. “But.. maybe it’d be a good idea that someone keeps this for a couple days.” You tug your gun from your waistband, setting it down on the table.

Soap laughs. “I’ll keep it safe for ya lass.” He slides it closer to him. “Why do you say that?”

“Ah, it’s how I made em leave.” You mumble, looking down. Captain Price nods his head.

He nods his head to the door. “Boys, a minute?” He asks. The three of them stand up. Each patting you on the shoulder as they exit.

John licks his lips, he’s got your knuckles cleaned up. They need some bandaging but you’ll be alright. “You gonna be okay?” He asks. You nod your head. “Yeah, I’ll be alright.” You look down at your hands. “I’m gonna have to stop myself and the others. To not go track him down and disappear him.” He laughs. “I wouldn’t stop you.” You laugh. “Things haven’t been good. Obviously. I took a week off to see if we’d be able to work things out. Take some time to work on our stupid relationship and that backfired like a motherfucker.” You laugh. John shakes his head. “I hate to break it to you.. but that’s why none of us are in a relationship. Relationships and the military just don’t mix. I think just about every single one of us have been in your situation.” He sighs. You nod your head. “I think I’ve learned my lesson.” You laugh.

The room settles into a comfortable silence.

You break it.

“Something weird happened to me.” You mumble.

“Hm?”

“When she hit me, my nose started bleeding. And I wiped it off. When I seen I had blood on my hands.. my brain just got foggy. And I blacked out. Couldn’t control myself.” You look confused.

“It’s probably just the aftermath of our last mission. It was a pretty tough one on all of us. You know?” You nod your head. “It’s hard to adjust back to the real world when you’ve been out on the battlefield. You know how it goes. You’ll be alright though. The strongest girl I know.” He rests his hand on your knee. “Thank you Captain.”

“Hey, this is 141 we’re talking about. We got you, nothing to worry about. And this hardship, it’ll pass. Just like it always does. Your wounds will heal. Physical and Mental. You’ll be alright.” You nod your head. “I think you should get some rest for now, sweetheart. Get those bandaged up and head on to your room.” He pats your thigh. You smile, standing up. “Bloody knuckles and a broken heart aren’t good enough to get out of drills either, see you in the morning.”

“6am sharp Captain.”

“Good girl.”

#call of duty mw2 #cod mw2 #soap mw2 #captain john price #ghost mw2 #price mw2 #captain price #johnny soap mactavish

[thewulf]

May I Kiss You? || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - But a story where it’s Jake x reader and she’s in the dagger squad and her and Nat are like “one of the guys” and reader hates it cause she likes Jake (Jake likes her too) but she thinks he sees her as manly and everything... Read Rest Here

A/N: Ahhhh this was so much fun to write. I love a sweet af Jake. A good hurt/comfort if you will!

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Y/N

Word Count: 3.0k +

“Nat, this is too much.” You checked yourself out in the floor-length mirror feeling terribly self-conscious in the skintight gold lacy mini dress she’d picked out for you. You’d never been one to show off and this dress was showing off everything, not much was left to the imagination. You felt like your boobs were spilling out and the cutouts left little to guess about.

She shook her head, “No it’s not! You look hot as fuck Bee.” She grinned checking you out without shame, “Besides, it’s just for a couple drinks then we’re going to the show. It’s not like we’re dressing up for the guys.” You’d earned your callsign, Bee, after not shutting the fuck up about bumblebees and why we needed to save them. Needless to say, you’d gotten the guys to plant wildflowers everywhere they could and trees where they shouldn’t. What could you say? You were convincing.

“No, you look hot.” You pointed to her even tighter red dress that looked rocking on her olive skin. Not much would look bad on Nat though, she could rock pretty much anything you were convinced, “I look so fucking out of place.” You sighed in defeat.

“Shut up Y/N. Seriously, you look really good. Jake won’t be able to take his eyes off of you.” She grinned knowing how to push your buttons perfectly.

“He will not. He doesn’t notice me at all.” You frowned, “I’m just one of the guys to him.” You wished it didn’t affect you so deeply but here you stood. Sad and upset.

She laughed, laughed of all things, “You really have no idea do you?” She quirked her eyebrow up in the most Natasha way possible. Basically, calling you a dumbass right to your face without outright saying it.

“Don’t put these thoughts into my head Nat!” You groaned careful not to smear the makeup you’d just spent far too much applying.

She punched your shoulder lightly, “Come on Bee. Think about it. He goes out of his way to sit next to you in class. He basically demands you be his wizzo. Jake Seresin has never had a wizzo before. He rushes to sit next to you at lunch… honey he likes you. Maybe even loves you.” She smirked knowing that’d truly get through to you.

You pursed your lips thinking it through, “So?”

She laughed, “Stop deflecting. He doesn’t act that way with me. Or Halo. He’s simply obsessed with you darling. He’s going to lose it when he sees you in that number tonight.”

You groaned again, another fresh set of butterflies erupted in your stomach, “Don’t remind me.”

“Why not?” She turned towards you.

“He’s literally never seen me in anything other than a military issued uniform Nat. What if he doesn’t like what he sees?” You were letting your nerves get the better of you. You knew you were being irrational.

She scoffed, rolling her eyes right in your face, “Well he’d be a fucking idiot then, wouldn’t he?”

When you walked in you made a beeline straight towards the bar. Not having a damn clue you’d drawn the eyes of the blonde pilot you’d grown to adore in your time back at Top Gun. The two of you just clicked. Two peas in a pod. He made you feel safe. You made him feel comfortable.

He, quite literally, couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Nat noticed. You didn’t. She’d make sure to point that out to you later.

Nat had to pull you away from the bar

Payback whistled when the two of you finally made it over, “Don’t you two look lovely. A little overdressed.” He quipped, digging a little?

Nat roller her eyes, “We’re going to a play after this.

“Would you look what he cat dragged in.” Bradley spoke up setting his drink down and taking a seat across from you, leaving the seat next to you for Jake whenever he wanted to join the group. Little did you know he was stalling because you quite literally took his breath away. He didn’t know how to not look like a dumbass in front of you.

“How nice Roos.” You rolled your eyes feeling yourself ease at the boys casual banter with the two of you. They weren’t making your feel great but not like shit either. Classic men.

He sighed, “You both look pretty. It’s just weird. We’re not used to seeing you guys look like women.”

You smiled, “I said the same thing!”

Nat groaned, “Please don’t encourage her boys.”

Jake then joined sliding in next to you giving you a soft smile before turning his attention towards Rooster across from you. He was trying his damnedest to not start right at you. You smelled beyond incredible it took all his damn willpower not to scoop you right on up for himself, simply irresistible.

The conversation flowed before Nat tapped her watch letting you know it was nearly time to go. You nodded in understanding trying to hurry up and finish your drink.

“Bagman you’ve been awfully quite.” Nat smirked trying to draw something out of the lovestruck man knowing it was her last chance for the night.

But the words that came out surprised even his fellow pilots who made light-hearted jokes, “Mama always said if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say it at all.” Bob’s wide eyes said it all for the men in the group. That was just mean and so wholeheartedly untrue.

Your heart dropped immediately, was that how he really felt? You didn’t think you were ugly but damn did that comment dig deep. The rest of the group must’ve felt the tension growing between the two of you as they scattered instead of hyping the conversation up.

Nodding your head, you set your glass down on the nearest table, “I think we were ready to go, right Nat? Don’t want to get there late, they might not let us into the play.” Laughing nervously, you gave your friend the wide eyes indicating you needed to get the hell out of that bar, now.

“Yeah, you’re right Bee. We gotta get going.” She set her glass down too, “Later boys.” The two of you waved as you walked out right on out of the bar without a second glance and to her car.

When you got inside the safety of her vehicle you sighed pressing yourself back into your seat wishing it would just eat you alive, “That was mortifying Nat.”

She hummed in agreement, “I don’t know what’s gotten into him. Let me talk to him okay?”

But your groan indicated you did not really agree with her, no, “Nat, just leave it alone. He clearly doesn’t have feelings. He wouldn’t have been so fucking brutal tonight if he did.”

She shook her head while navigating through traffic, “He was just trying to look cool in front of his buddies. You know how men are. Irrational.” She tried leveling with you. You knew the argument was moot anyway, neither of you would give in. Never.

You sighed, “Whatever you say Nat.”

A knock on your front door woke you from the light sleep you’d fallen into while watching football on a lazy Sunday afternoon. You tried ignoring it, but the person kept knocking. Definitely not a delivery driver.

Pulling yourself up from the couch you swung open the door surprised to see the blonde pilot on the other side of the entryway. Your heart starting racing and your mouth suddenly felt very dry.

“Jake, what are you doing here?” Your wide eyes and defensive stance let him know how badly he’d fucked up. All that time he’d spent with you seemed to be flushed down the drain at a stupid half-brained comment he didn’t even really mean.

“I’m here to apologize.” He stepped forward.

“Oh.” You were a little confused. He’d seemed so adamant about he felt not moments ago.

You looked like a deer struck by headlights. Jake nudged your side trying to draw you out of your head, “Can I?” He asked.

“Do what?”

He frowned, “Apologize?” Did Nat put him up to this? Was it some sort of stupid, sick joke?

You nodded, stepping aside to let him in. It felt awkward. So, unlike any other time you’d been with him. This felt forced. Uncomfortable.

“I’m so sorry. I did not mean what I said. You have to believe me Bee. Please.” He went to grab your hand and you let him, he seemed sincere, “I got caught up in the moment. The guys were teasing me before you two got there looking as good as you did. And Jesus, did you look good Y/N. I just wanted them off my back and I took it out on you. And that isn’t right.” He grabbed your chin with his other hand seeing your eyes well up with a fresh set of tears that threatened to spill over.

“Don’t cry. Please don’t cry beautiful. Please. You have to know how highly I think of you. You’re everything and more love. Smarter than any woman or man I’ve met. Quicker than any pilot in the air. Prettier than any girl I’ve ever laid eyes on. You’re it Y/N.” He whispered. That was all it took to in cry even though he asked you not to. This was the Jake you were used to. The Jake back at the bar was more like Hangman, an utter fucking dick. This was Jake. Your favorite sweet boy Jake. The one you’d fallen madly in love with over the years.

See you and Jake met at your first go around at Top Gun years prior. Jake had always had a soft spot for you. Especially after you waxed his ass so flawlessly in the air. It took him months to find a way to beat you. When he did you have him a high five. The competitiveness didn’t matter, your colleague was getting better. That meant better for everybody in the field.

But you were never available. Whether it was your long-term shithead of a boyfriend from college or some random fling the timing just never worked out. Then you were shipped off to the other side of the country and you lost touch.

Jake about lost his mind when he spotted you sitting next to Natasha the night before the first day at the Hard Deck. Rubbed his eyes and all, you just didn’t seem real. When he went up to talk to you he was quite frankly shocked to find you without a rock on your finger. You were a fucking catch, why weren’t you taken? It really confused him when he learned you were single. He was ashamed of the male population. But it meant one thing. Jake could focus on you and only you now. He didn’t need to fuck around with these meaningless one-night stands. He could find meaning with you.

When he wrapped his arms around you it just felt right. Even if you were upset with him you couldn’t help but to melt right into his loving embrace. You just felt so whole. So protected and secure. Like he’d never even let a bad thought cross your mind. But it was never suffocating. It was just right. Everything you needed when you asked. Jake was special and you knew it. You’d never let one little slip up crack the foundation the two of you had so delicately been pouring for the last few years.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled when you pulled away from his chest.

Jake frowned deeply. Using both his hands his pushed your wild hair away from your face, “What are you apologizing for sweetheart?”

You let out a breath trying to regain your normality, “Crying. Messing up your shirt.”

“You have to know I don’t give a damn about that Y/N. Are you okay?” He placed his palm on your cheek wrapping his fingers around your head gently. You nuzzled into him out of habit.

Closing your eyes you nodded towards him, “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just glad you’re here.” You admitted softly.

Using his other hand, he pulled you back into his embrace. He brought your head into his chest, “I’m so sorry lovie. You looked so stunning in that dress. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. Payback said I was literally drooling.” He chuckled squeezing you softly.

You were enjoying every second of this sweetness between you and him. You’d learned slowly how he loved, through touch. He needed this as much as you did. As touch adverse as you’d been when you’d met him you’d grown to crave his every touch. Anytime, anywhere you’d let him grab ahold of you. You didn’t care, you wanted it more than anything. It blew your mind how he had changed you so wholly in that regard.

“It’s okay Jake.” You kissed his chest through his clothing. Something so innocent but sent him into a damn frenzy. He’d never had anybody do something quite so… sweet? Intimate? Love on him the way he wanted?

He knew it was officially over for him the moment you did that. Something you’d likely never remember doing but was now officially seared into his brain for forever, not that he was complaining. No, not at all.

“How’d I get so lucky to find somebody like you?”

You shook your head in his embrace, “Shush.”

He smiled knowing how hard it was to give you a damn compliment. Something he was going to work on with you. He knew he needed to do something major to really let you know how he felt, or you’d never believe it. He was tired of waiting. Tired of seeing you slip right through his grasp.

“Can I tell you something?” He asked knowing you’d never expect what was going to come out of his mouth next.

He wasn’t sure if was going to be able to tell you before he melted into a puddle seeing your sweet little doe eyes looking up at him, waiting, “Anything Jake. You know that.”

He tightened his hold around your waist before letting it all out, “You really are the most beautiful woman I know Y/N, inside and out. Fucking stunning. And you… you are so easy to love.” He smiled seeing your gaze on him, soaking in every single word, “What I’m trying to say is, I love you.” His thumb rubbed the skin where your shirt rode up sending shivers throughout your body.

“You what?” Your eyes widened as big as saucers as your voice raised an octave or two, certainly not expecting that confession.

“I love you.” He smiled, the words spilling out of his mouth much more freely than before. It felt fucking freeing to him to admit that to you.

Your eyes darted around his face before landing on his green ones. His beautiful green eyes, “You do?”

His smile could’ve melted you as equally as you seemed to be able to melt him, “I do. Very much so.” You not immediately darting away was a good sign. He could tell it was just taking you some time to process what the hell he’d just dropped into your lap.

“Oh, wow.” Biting your lip, you really tried of something better to say but that’s all that came to your mind.

He continued grinning seeing your brain short circuiting. You were rather expressive with your features, and he could see the confusion rise and fall. Adorable as ever. One of the many reasons he loved you so deeply, “Have I not made it obvious?” He asked, his smirk would’ve knocked you out had you not been clinging to him.

“I…” You paused realizing he had made it rather obvious. He called you lovie for God’s sake. Nat was right you were just blind to it. Not believing Jake could have actual feelings for you. You too had fought them off for years. You wanted him more than ever when you broke up with the douche bag all those years ago. But Jake was at a different stage in his life, or so you thought. He was bringing home random girls while you wanted a steady partner. It seemed incompatible. Had you actually talked though you would’ve learned he was just distracting himself from you. Two fucking idiots.

“Go on.” Jake urged you on, giving your hip a light squeeze.

You laughed softly letting the blush coat your cheeks for him to see. You didn’t have much to hide anyway, “I guess you have. I just haven’t noticed.” Smiling sheepishly, you added, “I am oblivious, you know that.”

He laughed pulling you fully into him, “You are lovie. You really are.” He kissed the crown of your head relishing in the moment. The pure simplicity of the moment made him feel the best he had in quite a long time.

“Jake?” You asked softly. Were you going to admit it to? Did you love him? That was easy, hell yeah you loved him. You’d loved him for a long time too. He showed you what a man was like. How a boyfriend should treat a girl. How to be loved. It was him. It was always going to be him. Your Jake.

“Yeah sweetheart?” He looked down using his free hand to stroke your hair. He didn’t really give a damn if you were going to say it back. You staying with him, letting him hold you was more than enough. It was all he needed.

But you had different plans. You were going to tell him. Had to tell him, “I love you too.”

His eyebrows rose in clear shock, “You do?” This time he was questioning you like he couldn’t believe those words came out of your mouth. Certainly not prepared for that.

“I do. A whole lot.” You giggled feeling that same weight releasing off your chest.

He grinned hearing those words and that joyous sound, “Well that calls for one thing then.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

He smirked, eyes darkening just a shade, “May I kiss you love?

You nodded quickly before you could back out, “Please.” A sinful look crossed his face before he grabbed your face in his hands so gently it sent another shiver down your spine.

Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @mayhemmanaged @hardballoonlove

#top gun maverick #top gun #top gun imagine #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #hangman x reader #hangman x y/n #jake seresin x oc #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fic #jake seresin angst #jake seresin au #jake hangman seresin #hangman seresin #top gun hangman #hangman x oc #hangman x you #hangman fluff #hangman adam page #hangman imagine #tgm #dagger squad #hangman angst #hangman fic #hangman #hangman fanfiction

[burstinn]

Hello 👋, could I request some cod characters (perhaps Ghost, Price or Krüeger) defending a male military reader from a bunch of guys that are being homophobic to him?

Homophobes die

Warnings and Notes:

All relationships here is platonic or could potentially be seen as romantic

Krueger is somehow in the 141, just pretend he is.. Yknow.. Just pretend..

You get beaten the fuck up, your face is literally fucked up

Blatant homophobia

The only people shown is Ghost, Price, and Krueger

Being openly gay in the military is hard.

Not everyone has the same belief, but by God do they need to atleast be a little respectful.

Well, aside from some "out there" remarks about you or some men coming up to you just to ask to help them yknow take some stress off. They're not gay they swear they just needed to take it off without just jerking themselves off.

All that fun shebang, but then there's the 3rd. The people who go out of their way to just fuck with you.

They are literally the mix of the 1st and 2nd group. But make it 100 times worse, but they're favorite thing to do is more physical things.

Beating the shit out of you the chance they get. You're almost used to it now. Can't even snitch about it, they'll catch you before you do. Hell, they'll manage to spin some bullshit to make it your fault.

Which brings you toooo.. Today! The peak of Pride Month! Which you were reminded of by your good pals!

Being dragged off to a corner and beating the fucking shit out of you while congratulating you about pride month.

"It's gay month, hope your f---got ass is happy about that. This is your prize for it!"

"Maybe you were hoping to suck some dick today? No?"

Such great words really wow.

You couldn't really answer much.. Blood dripping out of your nose and pooling down to your mouth, pretty sure you lost some teeth.

Not like you can see either, brutal punches hit really hard. A black eye, a few broken bones.. Maybe your rib.

A few good kicks to the stomach. On your cock as well.

GHOST

- he heard it.

- He was looking for you and 'your pals' since you and them missed training and punishment is needed for that.

- Then he heard it

- stopping in his tracks and peering off in the corner seeing you getting beaten bloodied, black and blue.

- He needed to intervene shit look at you.

- He stepped out of the corner, grabbing the shoulder of one of the guys that was about to connect his hand to your face

- Anger courses through the guy who was about to punch turning around to see who dares grab him. Before his confidence falters seeing.. Lieutenant Ghost towering over them a fixed angered glare on them.

- "Prices office Now"

- There was no argument.. They immediately scurry off. Leaving you slumped over. Bloody, swollen.

- He turned his attention to you, carrying you in his arms.. Cradling you.

- "fuck, are you alright?" " hey! Stay awake soldier!"

- He pulls you close, running off with you in his arms. Demanding a medic.Immediately

- He leaves you to be patched up by the medics. Anger written in his face as he makes his way to Prices office.

- Price waiting on Ghost to explain what happened

- He looked like he wanted to kill them, he could've but he might get kicked out of military or arrested idk

PRICE

- He got a heads up a few minutes ago from Ghost that he was looking for you and these guy that were now in front of him.

- He did remember Ghost stalking off somewhere to find you and the dudes that were right in front of him

- He decides to not ask them and wait for Ghost instead.

- Once Ghost arrived, hearing the explanation made him seethe with frustration and disgust.. He knew you were gay but he didn't think people his soldiers no less would treat you like that

- He doesn't need to hear any more

- He discharged them immediately. Walking off with Simon to see you in medbay

- He had to make sure all his soldiers are safe

KRÜEGER

- He was walking by Price's office, He's heard a figh broke out and the person who was beat up was in the medics

- He might as well see who it was

- Just as he was about to fully pass by Price's office. He heard something..

- He stops in his tracks, leaning now against the door to listen.. And he heard everything

- His expression slowly growing darker and darker as he continues listening

- He's heard just about enough, He decides to skip seeing you.. He could comfort you later..

- I mean, You both were close but not that close. But still it's not like he can't not care about you.

- He has planned.. Something else for those men

- They went M. I. A after that, No one bothers to look. It's not the militarys problem any more..

°°°

| A Week Later|

"Hey.. Guten Tag, hey! Wake up"

.. Krueger.. He's waking you up

Furrowing your brow in annoyance before you force yourself to open your eyes..

You sit up tilting your head to look at Krüeger.

"Wie geht's?"

"OK, Mir ghet es Gut.. Danke, Krueger"

He nods, looking at your bandaged face.

"You should let 'im rest Krueger"

A deeper, more British voice comes from behind Krueger

"I'm just checking up on him"

Ghost is here too.. How nice, they took their time to see you

"Botha' you, Get back to work. Leave him alone"

And.. Price

" It's fine cap, I'm good"

"You sure? You still look messed up Don't worry we took care of them bastards, we discharged them"

Silence from Krueger.. Looking at the ground for a moment

"Ja... Yeah mmhm"

Weird.. But it's nice that these people care for you.

#call of duty x male reader #call of duty modern warfare x male reader #cod mw2 x male reader #gay #cod x male reader #cod x reader #x male y/n #x male reader #male reader #male reader x cod #cod mw2 #codmw2 x reader #cod modern warfare

[gloomwitchwrites]

Hand Necklace (2 of 4)

John Price x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: possessive!Price, jealous!Price, vaginal fingering, biting, marking, dirty talk, rough kissing, established relationship

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

A hand necklace is a reminder that you belong to him.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // hand necklace masterlist

Events are not your thing.

You know how and when to smile. You know all the right things to say. But it is draining. Utterly exhausting. You do it for John but sometimes you wish you could stay home and wrap yourself up in bed instead.

When you and John first became involved, you didn’t think the military would have so many fucking events. It’s too many people to smile at and make small talk with. It’s too many forced smiles and people you don’t know shaking your hand when John introduces you.

And now you’ve been abandoned.

Abandoned might be too dramatic of a word, but that is what this feels like. Someone higher than John on the ladder pulled him away, jokingly reassuring you that they’d bring him back to you shortly. But it’s been nearly twenty minutes, and this absence has left John’s spot beside you vacant. It allows others to slither into his territory, to try and fill that role while he’s not around.

It’s not a false fear. It’s happened before. Once, the interaction was so bad, John punched the guy in the face, splattering you and the people standing around with the man’s blood.

“Lovely dress. Looks good on you.” You glance away from staring out across the banquet hall and turn toward the masculine voice.

You don’t know this man, even though his face is vaguely familiar. Did you meet him tonight? Did John introduce him at some point in the evening? It’s hard to say. You’ve meet so many people that their names and faces are all blurring together.

It’s also possible that you’ve met this guy before at another event. John doesn’t like to ever go alone, insistent on dragging you along with him to each function he’s forced to attend.

“Thank you,” you reply hesitantly, your gaze tracking the subtle movements of his face.

He’s smirking in a way that instantly puts you on edge. His pupils are enlarged and his cheeks are rosy like he’s had one too many drinks. This stranger is likely a bit older than you but not close to John’s age.

“Where’s Captain Price?” he asks, glancing around like he’s trying to find John. But he’s not. The asshole uses this as an opportunity to step closer into your space.

You frown, ready to bolt. Until you realize you’re backed into a literal corner.

Fuck.

“I was just about to go look for him. Excuse me,” you say through gritted teeth, attempting to step around this intruder. You’re trying to be polite, mostly for John’s benefit. The people here are his coworkers, and you don’t want to make a bad impression.

“Now, hold on.” He grabs hold of your forearm and tugs a little too roughly.

You stumble into him, nearly spilling your glass of champagne. It puts you dangerously close to an intimate position and your cheeks flame with anger.

Fuck this guy.

Your gaze narrows. “Please, let go—”

“You don’t need to go looking for him,” he says, completely ignoring you. “A man shouldn’t leave a beautiful woman like you alone. Someone might try to take his place.”

You scoff. “Excuse me?”

The guy shrugs as if this is acceptable behavior. “Someone could slip in. Take his place.”

Your grip on your champagne is close to snapping the stem of the glass. “You—”

A shadow appears across the stranger’s face. His gaze shifts to a point behind you, and immediately pales.

“Is there a problem here?” comes a familiar, masculine voice from over your shoulder.

Your shoulders relax, all annoyance leaving you instantly.

The man shakes his head. “Uh. No. Captain. Price. Sir.” He swallows and backs away, turning on his heel and running off like a kicked dog.

You spin around, only to find yourself dangerously close to John’s chest. Your lips part, mouth opening to tell him how happy you are to see him. But there is anger all over his face, and while you know you’ve done nothing wrong, and his anger is for that piece of shit, it still startles you.

Before you have the chance to ease his worry, John snatches the champagne glass from your hand and sets it on the nearby table.

“I am drinking that.”

John ignores you, grabbing your upper arm, and tugging you against him to whisk you away from the room as quickly as possible. He glances over his shoulder, checking the room. Then, he ushers you down a side hallway before turning left into another connecting hallway.

The noise from the party is distant. Far away.

“John—” you protest, and still, he ignores you.

Instead, John turns you around, pressing you against the wall. Your hands go up to rest against the wall, palms flat to keep you stable.

The moment you’re in position, John slides his hand to the front of your throat and wraps his fingers around your neck. He bends you back enough that your lips are just inches from his.

“Who do you belong to?” he asks.

“You,” you reply in a whisper.

“Fucking right, love.” His mouth comes down on yours in a harsh, passionate kiss. There is nothing sweet about it. This kiss is wanton and possessive. An act of ownership.

John pulls back enough to speak against your lips. “I don’t like when people touch what’s mine.” The hand not on your throat slides over your hip and starts to gather your dress up in its fist. “I think some reminders are in order.” Your dress is almost up around your hips when John manages to get underneath it.

“I’m going to start here.” John’s fingers slip under the fabric of your underwear. “By fucking you with my fingers. Have you come all over them.” He parts your pussy, teasing your clit with a few well-placed swirls that already has your cunt clenching.

John’s lips fall away from yours to trace over your jaw, past your throat, and down to your exposed shoulder. “And while I fuck your pretty pussy, your skin will know my teeth.” He gently bites down on the spot just below where his hand squeezes your throat. Then he sucks it sharply into his mouth, turning the gentle nibble into pain mixed with pleasure. He releases his hold, your skin bouncing back into place, buzzing with a throbbing ache.

“You’re mine to mark, and everyone out there is going to fucking know it when I’m done.”

His middle finger pushes in, seeking your warmth.

“This is a promise,” murmurs Price as he begins to pump that finger in and out of you. “That you’re taking my cock later.”

“Fuck. Oh—fuck. John.”

“That’s right, love. Say my name.” John moves to a different spot along your exposed skin, biting and sucking until the spot blooms with a harsh mark. He inserts a second finger, moving steadily, almost leisurely in the way he fucks your pussy with his fingers and brings blossoming sharp pleasure-pain across your skin.

The base of his palm rubs against your clit, and you whimper. Your response earns you a little squeeze of his hand around your throat.

“Quiet. Someone will hear. And I don’t want anyone else knowing how lovely you sound.”

You answer with a soft whine as John switches between pumping in and out of your pussy, and nipping at your skin. While there is an undertone of gentleness, everything about this is a bit harsh, a bit feral, like John is doing this more for him than for you.

Which is fine, because the palm of his hand against your clit is making your head spiral into oblivion.

“That man will never know your touch. Or what your cunt tastes like,” murmurs John against your skin. “Those are only for me, love. Just me.”

You agree with a repressed moan, only to inhale sharply when John presses against your clit in just the way you need.

“Gonna show me how you come all over my fingers?” asks John, squeezing your throat a bit tighter.

You nod frantically, whispering a needy, “please.”

John’s smile unfurls over your skin. He kisses one sore spot softly, and then begins fucking your pussy in earnest, moving his fingers and palm in perfect rhythm with each other until you’re biting down on your bottom lip trying to hold back the sounds threatening to erupt from up your throat.

Keeping control on your body is its own kind of pleasure. You’re following John’s instruction, and he revels in it, murmuring soft praises as your pussy clenches around his fingers and your thighs quiver.

“That’s it,” he coos, helping you through it.

Your entire body seizes, and then you’re melting, knees giving out, but John is right there to catch you. That hand necklace disappears, easing up to stroke down your back only to wrap around the front of your waist.

“Good to go back out there?” he ask.

“No.” You shake your head. Try to swallow. “I—can’t go out there.”

“What do you want?”

“Home,” you answer, licking your lips, turning your head to gaze at John.

John smirks. “We have to walk across the banquet hall to leave.”

“What!” You turn as much as you can and John’s smile is smug.

“If home is what you want. Then it’s home we will go. But first, you’re gonna show off these pretty little marks, yeah? Make sure everyone knows that you’re off-limits. All mine.”

You nod, swallowing down all the nervousness. You belong to John, just as he belongs to you.

He winks and then helps you off the wall. “Let’s go.”

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @pearljamislife @wrathofcats @keiva1000 @pertinentpostmortem @enfppixie @bbyfimmie @kittytiddywinks @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @marispunk @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @tiredmetalenthusiast

#captain price fanfic #captain price fic #captain price smut #captain price x reader #captain price x you #captain price x fem!reader #captain price x f!reader #captain price x female reader #john price x reader #john price x fem!reader #captain john price x you #john price x f!reader #captain john price x reader #john price x you #captain john price smut #john price smut #captain john price fanfiction #john price fanfic #john price fanfiction #john price fic #john price cod #captain john price #john price #captain price #captain john price imagine #captain john price x female reader #captain john price fluff #cod fanfiction #cod smut #call of duty headcanons

[jupiter-va]

Omg I also never thought of Abby with a gun play thing but now it has me thinking thoughts as well…I need to hear yours!!

Okay I've had a nap and I'm a bit more energized so here we go. These are SFW and NSFW btw (This got long I'm sorry, also, I'm better at dirty talking than I am at writing about sex lol)

✧˖° ‧Abby and her Guns ✧˖°

CW: talks of guns/consensual gunplay, mean!abby, degradation (kinda)

||MDNI

❥I completely agree with the ask I got earlier saying that Abby has sort of a fixation on them. Not in a weird way, she just kinda likes knowing how they work, how each part connects to the other, etc.

❥I'm not much of a gun girly, but I am southern and a lot of people I know have guns so based on my limited knowledge, I think her gun of choice is like a hybrid of a Glock and another pistol, can't recall the name (canonically, it's just called the "Military Pistol" in the game, correct me if I'm wrong but that's what it looks like). But I'm thinking she like's compact pistols for everyday use in general cus they're smaller than a full sized handgun, but they pack a punch and are easy to conceal which is useful for obvious reasons

❥I imagine she keeps them in the best condition she possibly can, of course she does, she needs them almost daily

❥It's one day when she's taking guns apart and cleaning them that you notice just how good she looks doing it. She looks good doing everything, but with this, the look of concentration on her face, combined with how swiftly she takes them apart and puts them back together without fumbling or breaking a sweat. The confidence and precision in her movements is enough to make you squirm and she notices

❥She's quick to break her concentration for the sole purpose of teasing you, asking you to come closer as she rattles off her knowledge about each separate gun to you.

❥She innocently "shows" you the best places to aim for when shooting someone. Slowly dragging an (unloaded) pistol from the waistband of your pants to your midsection, and applying a slight pressure to your stomach with the barrel of the gun

❥She'd notice you squirming/whining and honestly, I think she'd be a little mean about it

"You're sick, you know that baby? Making those pretty sounds for me, all because I've got a gun to your tummy?"

"You do realize how fucked up it is that you're into this, right?"

❥You're more than aware of how fucked up it is, but as she drags the gun from your midsection to your chest up to your neck, until she finally stops, resting the pistol up under your chin, you honestly can't bring yourself to care

❥Someone brought up the idea of Abby fucking you while holding a gun up to your stomach and honestly, whoever it was ate with that, I agree wholeheartedly, however, for the past 20 minutes I've been thinking about her having you get on all fours while having the gun to your back. You can't see it, but you can feel it and you hear the click each time she pulls the trigger and it just ups the sensation you feel by 100

❥Of course, the gun isn't loaded, but that doesn't stop Abby from taking you from behind and dragging the pistol down your back, stopping every so often to pull the trigger. It can't hurt you, but each click of the gun sends chills down your spine in the best way

❥Despite how fucked out and overstimulated you get, it's almost like Abby can't help but to fuck you harder, making sure she drags this out for as long as she can. She loves watching as each click of the gun jolts you back into reality and listening as your now incoherent murmurs grow louder and more desperate with each thrust.

Yeah, this is gonna have to be an audio lol, I have more things I wanna say but I'm much better at articulating them when I'm speaking as if I'm actually in the scenario rather than writing it down.

#abby anderson #abby anderson audio #abby anderson headcanons #✧jupiter's thoughts✧ #abby tlou2 #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson hcs

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

Random Soap MacTavish headcanons {2}

sfw and nsfw

pairing: sgt. Soap MacTavish x reader (cod mw)

tags/tw: domestic stuff, fem!reader, smut, creampie, oral kink, groping, fingering, twt links (straight up porn)

a/n: if I have not seen the scene when Soap floats to he Scottish Highlands, it haven't happened. yes I'm in denial and will re-watch the mw2 campaign religiously, while living in my bubble, I shall feed all of those who wants to join me

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish MASTERLIST

sfw

-god this man chews gum a.fucking.lot, Soap always have a pack of gum in his pocket or bag

-sometimes you send him a look when he starts chewing with the front of his teeth and the sound gets just a tad bit too obnoxious, he always notices but there's two ways he reacts

-either he gives you a bashful smile and shrug before going back to whatever he's doing, mindful to not disturb you again

-or, he simply meets your gaze with arched brows, white gum on full display between his teeth as he offers you a boyish smile, that reaction always precedes his playful mood of teasing you with his chewing, a sharp pop sounding every now and then as he somehow manages to create little bubbles with a simple

-although Soap may be the shortest out of 141, this man is far from small, just put him in a setting where everyone isn't Ghost and he towers over most and it just so happens that you get reminded of it while almost every time you catch him working out

-you just throw him a glance and get kinda stunned when seeing the way your hulking powerhouse of a boyfriend beats the punching bag or throw around weights as if they weight absolutely nothing

-he loves swimming and water

-like, this man wants to go to any body of water at least once on his leave, sometimes just to sit and watch the wave crash against the beach, or the soft clucking of a lake

-sometimes he even takes a quick dip despite being in Scotland and the water impossibly is above 11

-you just watch him in disbelief as he strip and wades into the water until it reaches the middle of his thighs and he submerges himself, you blame it on the military for frying his cold-receptors, but he argues he's been likes this since being a wee lad

nsfw under the cut

-this mf is nasty, Soap loves to see his cum drip out of you and if you’ll let him, he’ll never want to prove his pull-out game is as strong as he boasts about

-sometimes, he is so in his head that he can’t rid himself of his boner until he can shoot his load inside you, jerks himself off with his tip resting just inside your pretty cunt

-ohmygod I just imagined Soap having an oral kink, but more so watching your lips wrap round things, your tongue running over whatever is sealed within your mouth

-of course he loves when you give him oral, having you sink to your knees before him with a football game in the background after a stressful day, he can see heaven the way his head cranes backwards

-but, it doesn't even need to be anything sexual, you can be licking an ice cream, a lollipop, Jesus Christ your fucking fingers from the sauce when you cook, he can't take his eyes off of you

-Soap is sweat in the bedroom, adores making you feel good and reach your high enough times until you push his hands away and lay there with a drunk smile, limbs slack, eyes half-lidded as they meet his adoringly

-however, sometimes he touches you because he wants to play

-you can be laying in bed, short tank top and panties on as he relaxes in joggers, and his fingers just starts running up and down your scantily clad bottom half

-it starts with Soap just running his hands over your arse, lower spine, until they dip again and he toys with your underwear, fingers occasionally slipping over your clothed pussy, pressing into the seam of your cunt before going back to groping your cheeks

-then he pushes it further, dipping his fingers beneath your panties to toy with your cunt, only to take your panties off altogether to lazily finger you

-he plays for a long time, feeling how you grew wetter and squirm all the more, in the end breathing a desperate pleading 'Johnny' and he knows it'll come because he never stops until it does, just wanting to see for how long you'll let him run his hands over you before getting to needy

#soap mactavish #soap cod #soap mw2 #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod mwii #call of duty #john soap mctavish x reader #soap x fem reader #soap x fem!reader #soap call of duty #soap x you #soap headcanons #cod headcanons

[jotarosexhusband]

ANIME TBOY SWAG TOURNAMENT SEMI-FINALS MATCH 2

Kamille Bidan (Zeta Gundam) VS Edward Elric (Fullmetal Alchemist)

propaganda under the cut!

KAMILLE:

in the first episode he physically attacks a military officier for offhandedly saying he has a girl's name

KAMILLE WARRIORS RISE #<- has not watched zeta #i just like kamille

begging and pleading for you to vote kamille he’s one of us

VOTE KAMILLE (below image from here)

64.media.tumblr.com

this ask

RESPECT THE OG TRANS MECHA BOY!! HE STARTED A WAR BECAUSE HE WAS MISGENDERED!

Vote kamille he actually pulls with his Tboy swag

#kamille literally gets in fight over his name and gender more than once

Kamille is 100% banned from lex certified tboy though with a college fuckboy phase.

there are a bunch of tags on his round 2 match that just say "BIDAN BLAST!!"

#Kamille is so so so so trans it’s insane

#Kamille sweep he deserves it he's done so many acts of terrorism

everyone needs to vote for Kamille, he will start another war if he loses

Kamille literally punches a dude for saying his name is a girls he’s so

ED:

#EDWARD FUCKING ELRIC SWEEP #that boy is FULL of gender but definitely numero uno is his trans boy swag

#ed elric is constranly called short idk whats more tboy swag than that #other than using his prosthetics to modify his body to fit his tastes. because thats also pretty trans and therefore swag

#ED SWEEP #the only two characters who might have ANYTHING on him are link and jesse pinkman #but ed is the winner in my heart.

#EDDDDD #edward elric #if a trans person says ed is hashtag relatable #then yeah #slay ed slay

#are you fucking kidding me? are you kidding me. #ed doesn't have competitors. he IS the tboy swag.

#ED ELRIC SWEEP LESGOOOOOO #Hes trans bc i want his gender im not taking criticism

#EDWARD ELRIC!!! #og gender envy anime boy for me #i wanted his gender before i even knew that was a thing i could want

#anime tboy swag bracket #zeta gundam #kamille bidan #fma #fmab #fullmetal alchemist #ed elric #edward elric #semi-finals

[toxicanonymity]

Hey sorry to bother i adore your work! I was wondering if you could do another creepy Joel where he is watching her through the window but she's hooking up with someone (they could just be kissing whatever you want!) Thank you💗

date next door

1.2k / pervy!Joel x fem!Reader / master

conclusion to part one: window (peeping tom)

Tonight, you brought that guy home just for Joel's sake. You and Joel have a date, he just doesn't know it yet. You’re in the mood now, not because of the guy that just left, but because you know Joel’s been watching, and you know what you're going to do. 

CW: perverted, creepy peeping tom Joel, voyeurism, masturbation, unsafe P in V sex, breeding. previous: I8 +mdni.

Joel has gone full pervert after finding out what a beauty lives across the lawn.   He used a pair of pliers to carefully put a kink in one of the blinds, creating the perfect little viewfinder.  He has a chair set up sideways against the window so his eyes can be as close as possible.  He even dug Tommy's old military binoculars out of a closet.  He's making a mental map of every mark on your body.  He can practically feel your smooth skin under his rough fingertips. He knows what kind of lotion you use and has his own bottle of it right there at the window.

You have company tonight.  A gentleman caller, no less.  When Joel checks to see if you’re home, you’re facing the window and your dare is taking your jacket off your shoulders.  The sight of your jacket coming off turns Joel on.  He rubs his arousal over his pants and waits to see what happens.  You don’t close the window.  Joel settles in and unzips his pants as your date rests the jacket on the back of a chair, then kisses your neck.  Joel can hardly stand seeing the man’s hands on you, but there’s a new development - you’re not wearing a bra. 

Joel imagines what it would be like to stand behind you, the smell of your lotion,  the soft peach fuzz on the nape of your neck prickling with his touch as he wraps his hands around you and ghosts your nipples until they’re fully erect before he cups your breasts.  You sit down on your bed with your date, and you kiss.  Joel’s biased, but he doesn’t think you look comfortable.  He imagines your date getting rough with you.  Joel would be right over to save you.  He would tear the guy off you, deck him in the face, punch him a few more times while he’s down, then put him in the corner and make him watch.  Joel would comfort you, make sure you’re alright, then in the heat of the moment, you’d passionately kiss him, and he’d take you right there in front of that loser. 

Joel’s breath quickens as he strokes himself desperately and watches you kiss this loser, imagining what it’d be like fucking you right there on that bed.  You’d urgently pull down his pants, hungry, desperate for his cock.  You’d try to suck him off but he’d only let you for a few seconds.  With his hand between your legs, he’d be overcome by a need to be inside you ASAP.  Your pussy would be so wet and juicy for him and you’d sigh his name as he ran his fingers through your folds.   

Joel closes his eyes imagining it and when he opens them again, he’s shaken from his filthy thoughts when the man stands up.  You’re making him leave, to Joel's delight.   You disappear from your room, then a car starts and drives away.  Joel patiently waits for you to return to your room alone. Hopefully you'll get undressed, maybe even touch yourself. But you don’t come back. 

Joel’s doorbell does, however, ring. He zips up in a hurry.   

-

You want something from Joel, and you're here to take it. When he opens the door, you’re there, no jacket, no bra.  You look him up and down.  You know what he’s been  up to.  You’ve seen the kink in his blinds. You’ve seen the blinds sway when you’re naked.  You’ve seen the light come on when you’re getting dressed and turn off when your light turns off.  And you haven’t done anything about it other than put on a little show and start tracking your cycle more closely. 

You know Joel is hot.  You see him outside, you exchange pleasantries.  So, sometimes, when you're in your room, you bend over with your ass facing the window.  You wear your cutest thongs and boyshorts when you know he’s home. It turns you on knowing he’s watching. 

-

Tonight, you brought that guy home just for Joel's sake. You and Joel have a date, he just doesn't know it yet. You’re in the mood now, not because of the guy that just left, but because you know Joel’s been watching, and you know what you're going to do.  Tonight's the night. When Joel answers the door, you glance to his pants, and the tent you see is all the confirmation you need. 

Without a word, you let yourself in.  Joel closes the door behind you and stands there, frozen.  You grab the hard bulge in his tight jeans and bring your face an inch from his.  

“Do it,” you tell him.  Then you softly brush his lips with yours, and he latches on for dear life, both his hands holding your head.  He moans softly as his tongue claims your mouth, and you grab his swollen package which swells harder into your hand.  When he breaks for air, his eyes are darker. 

He reaches under your dress and his hand plunges into your panties.  He sighs “Ohhh, fuck,” as he feels how wet you are. “Fuck, you’re hot,” he breathes, then walks you into the living room and pushes you down on the couch. You make yourself comfortable lengthwise on the couch, face up. He unbuttons his jeans as he gets between your legs.  He pauses to slide your panties off and pockets them for later, just as he imagined the first time. Then hepulls down his jeans and boxers. 

“Jesus Christ you’re even hotter than I thought,” he says.  He marvels at your face, your body, your whole presence overwhelms him with arousal.  

“Do something about it,” you say.  

He takes out his stiff, aching member and your involuntary reaction is,  “Mmmm.”  The sight of it makes you weak with need.  He drags it through your wet folds and sighs.  He closes his eyes like he’s trying not to come instantly.  Then he notches his tip at your entrance and you wrap your legs around him, pulling him into you.  And he plunges to the hilt with a shudder.  You moan and he groans as he begins to slowly fuck you.  His mouth falls open. “Fuck, you feel good,” he whispers, “So fucking good.”  He buries himself inside you gently.  He opens his eyes and looks like he can hardly believe he’s inside you.  

“Harder, Joel.” 

“I ca-”

“I don’t care how fast you come.  You can come right now. Fuck me harder.” 

He hesitates for a moment, then slams into you even harder than you expect.  His face darkens as he begins to pound you.  He grunts and pants and your spine arches.  Your hips buck into his and he leans in close, grinding his pelvis into your clit as he flexes his ass with unfathomable power managing to pound you and rub your clit just right at the same time.  It only takes a minute for you to see stars.  Your mouth forms an O and he covers it with his as you reach your peak. 

You pry your mouth away with a groan and moan his name.  The sound of it makes him explode inside you.  “Fuck,” he whispers and starts to try to pull out, but your legs tighten around him and you lift yourself closer, sinking his cock deeper as his seed spills into you.  “It’s okay,” you tell him, and keep your legs wrapped around him, tilting your hips up so it doesn't seep out.

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Thank you so much for reading and for your reblogs and comments. 🖤🖤🖤 I love you guys!!!

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