lunarw0rks

[lunarw0rks]

new fav trope is that ghoap comes in a package deal

you can't date just one of them. surprise! you're fucking them both!

#this works with pricegaz as welllll #<3 #brownie points if reader doesnt know whats happening until its happening and then poof has two boyfriends #need them fr fr #ghoap x reader #ghoap au #simon ghost riley #soap mactavish #rachel speaks #not writing

[lunarw0rks]

i dont find this behavior attractive in the slightest irl. that being said...

price driving home all angry with you in the passenger seat. he practically has steam coming from his ears. swerving, speeding, one hand on the wheel, the other digging into the fat of your thigh.

and the most terrifying part? he'd be silent the entire ride home. maybe one look when the engine stills. but you know better; it's The Look he gives you before─

#based on that mission in mw3 #angry price angry price angry price #i dont know why he is but he is just for the sake of horny thoughts #john price x reader #captain john price #captain price #call of duty #task force 141 #mw2 #mw3

[lunarw0rks]

how did this post blow up

john “big stretch” price

simon “make it fit” riley

soap “just the tip” mactavish

kyle “give me one more” garrick

#why is it always my incoherent thoughts that surge on here??!! #you're all mentally ill (affectionately)

[lunarw0rks]

mafia boss price....................................................

#yeah <3 #hehehehehe #imagination goin wild rn dawg #captain john price #john price #rachel speaks #not writing

[lunarw0rks]

john price is not a brat tamer—

he is a brat breaker

#and he’d be proud of it too #one chance pls pls pls pls #aye aye captain #thank you for coming to my ted talk #john price #captain john price #price modern warfare #price headcanons #task force 141 #rachel speaks

[lunarw0rks]

gaz gives the vibes of someone who grew up well off and i can’t pinpoint why. he gives off old money vibes

#maybe he’s so pretty that he just exudes excellence??? #but in his lore he was a gymnast from a young age so i’m picture an expensive private school +extracorriculars and tutors - the works #imagine a fancy military school too <3 #i think it’s his sarcasm/attitude idk #but i love him #gaz <3 #kyle gaz garrick #rachel speaks

[lunarw0rks]

the hate sex potential after price wouldn't let johnny kill makarov would go crazy.........

#ugh imagine him all angry coming home to you and you cant even get a word out befor- #yeah..... #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #cod mw3 #call of duty mw3 #call of duty #task force 141 #rachel speaks

[lunarw0rks]

SOMEBODY WRITE THIS

Hush (2016) but it's just Ghost flirting 🙄

#THIS HAS BEEN ONE OF MY FAV MOVIES FOR SEVERAL YEARS !!! #SO GLAD SOMEONE SEES THE GHOST VIBES IN IT AS WELL #i live love laugh a slasher fic because thats just ghost saying hi lmao #if you havent seen it - watch it <3 #simon ghost riley #rachel speaks #not writing

[lunarw0rks]

hear me out ,, gaz jealous sex ? Like he knows you're loyal but seeing other men wanting u drives him wild ,, he gets so mad and its so,, 🫣

dudeee i’ve been waiting to touch on gaz for awhile now and this was the idea i needed. he’s levelheaded most of the time— but you can definitely catch glimpses of his temper in the campaigns.

now imagine with a lover, and sprinkle in some jealousy…

he knows you're loyal to him. that you can't do anything about stares or flirting when out and about.

i can vividly imagine gaz saying something like "i don't wanna look at your fucking face right now" before stripping all your clothes.

and naturally ends up fucking you prone bone until you can't even lift your head anymore, let alone get a word out. drool and tear-stained cheeks (and bedsheets) by the end of it.

the lil freak himself^

#and the aftercare would be supreme let me tell you #it always is with gaz but we're talking angry gaz here #he'd upscale it x10 #kyle garrick #gaz smut #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #gaz x you

[lunarw0rks]

pricegaz x reader

a threesome with two doms using you where one degrades you and the other praises you >>>

#dare i say

[lunarw0rks]

i feel like u could literally punch johnny in the face and he'd still be like "can i hit?? 🥺🥺"

#brother is starving #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish headcanons #mw2 #call of duty #task force 141 #rachel speaks

[lunarw0rks]

angst or fluff today fellas?

#sweet thing part two is in the works ^^^^ #rachel speaks #not writing

[lunarw0rks]

john “big stretch” price

simon “make it fit” riley

soap “just the tip” mactavish

kyle “give me one more” garrick

#i feel as though i am wholeheartedly correct and will not share my research with any of you #but i am also half asleep and thought of this list ina cold sweat so LEAVE ME ALONE #!!! #mw2 #call of duty #task force 141 #mw3 #141 task force #141 #rachel speaks

[lunarw0rks]

sweet thing | part one

˖⁺‧₊˚ read it on ao3 | masterlist | ask box

price takes a liking to his neighbor. vulnerable, expecting, and in need of his helping hand. it's a good thing he always wanted a family.

john price x pregnant!reader (based on this idea of mine.)

warning(s): MDNI (18+); NOT EDITED, price is touch starved and kinda pathetic, pregnancy, angst/depression, alcoholism, fluff, fem!reader [wc: 1.3k]

Involuntary stress leave, they called it.

But for John, it was just short of decay. Sedentary, bitter—restless. Stuck at home while there's still a fight to be fought, men who need guidance. His men.

Before the stress does him in, he figures boredom will close in on him first, and it would be less merciful than any bullet or blade. Chores are a necessity, and hobbies are nothing more than a temporary soothe to his aches.

Every morning, irony wakes him up cold. Takes its pound of flesh. The world he devoted his adult life to fighting for, has nothing in it for him.

(Stiff fingers, heaving chest, bile in his throat, tremors marring his nervous system.)

It's hours before he can shake the feeling, so he compromises by rising at ungodly hours and fulfilling a rigid routine—still a trained soldier to his core. And by nightfall, he nurses a bottle until he's warm again, ready for the reset at dawn.

As they gaze out the window, his eyes search for purpose. Two fingers parting the blinds. Something, anything, please. But nothing. The sharp sting of cheap booze rushes past his teeth, and he's ready to retreat.

He winces through the taste before he's at attention again. The rumble of an engine cut short right next door. He angles himself to catch a clear view of the person. Instinct yells for him to be vigilant, but the sight in front of him snuffs the bellow.

The flow of a slip dress in the breeze, sticky strands of hair pulled back, glowing skin, a nurturing hand resting on the bump that shows through the fabric.

You look anything but thrilled while you wrangle your bags and fight the wind gusts, and you're well aware of it.

All John sees is bloom. Purpose. Duty.

Before he can gather all his wits, he's closed the front door behind him, his spilled bottle dribbling along the end table. It's not so much your beauty that drives him; he isn't a superficial man and can't afford to be.

A living, breathing person is what quickens his stride. Someone to talk to. Someone to touch and study. As of late, the only people near have been on the other side of the TV screen, fueled by dramatics and in character.

You find yourself stuck in your headspace again, mentally listing all the tasks that await you inside your house. Chores, mostly, some grocery shopping—and loads more of that endless baby planning. Relaxation wasn't an option and you're actively learning to accept that. Although, it's admittedly difficult to feel any other way when you've got another human to consider now.

John clears his throat. "Let me take tha' for you, darling."

He waits until you meet his stare to extend a hand, fingers grazing the flimsy straps of your shopping bags. You freeze, soaking in the sight of him.

"Hm?" Your brows knit together, and it's only then that you catch up with him.

"Your bags."

The man has already taken them before the words finish rolling off his tongue, but he stays in place.

A soft chuckle comes out of you to crack open the sheet of embarrassment. "Sorry, I'm a little out of it today."

Pregnancy brain, you want to blame it on. But deep down you know it's because kindness is a new taste nowadays.

Most are courteous and accommodating, making way for you. Others look at you like dirt on their shoes. Fatigue draining your features doesn't help, and neither does the absence of a wedding band. Early on, you were naive enough to believe society had moved beyond the stigma. Wrong, more wrong, and a fool is all you are nowadays, even if only in your head.

Exhausted, not out of it, he analyses, and his heart aches.

"It's alright." His voice is smooth as nectar, leaving goosebumps on your skin that you'll chalk up to the wind. "Shouldn't be carrying all this by yourself, anyhow."

You fight the urge to scoff and instead lead the way to the front porch.

He's right. You shouldn’t be doing any of this alone.

Turning the key, you step inside and let the words spill. “Yeah, I, uh— I didn’t have anyone to call.”

Price should be more shocked by your words, but he isn’t. He is really, and truly, desensitized to all the misfortune around him. And it’s not any different with you. His eyes—conditioned to spot every minute detail of a person—took milliseconds to notice your left hand.

Feel her out. Find out more.

“That so?” He questions softly but doesn’t give you a chance to respond. You’ve painted the whole picture and more.

His words are full of every sensibility possible. “That’s a shame.” Pity. Empathy. Grief. Outrage. All except condescension; none of this is your fault, he can sense it.

You expect admonition.

Leading a stranger inside is bad enough, and walking the fine line between small talk and oversharing is worse.

But you can’t bring yourself to taste it. Outside of some coworkers and your mother, this is your first taste of organic interaction, and it’s been overwhelmingly amicable so far. Not something you can take lightly; loneliness is prevalent.

You let out a tired sigh, letting the silent gesture speak for itself. What else can you say? He's already got you pegged after spending all but two minutes with you. Makes you wonder how you haven't noticed him sooner, though you remember his driveway is usually vacant and the blinds are always closed.

By now, it's obvious that if he had ill intentions, he would've acted on them by now. The silence isn't thick or stiff—it's refreshing, oddly enough.

When his mouth upturns, the crow's feet around his eyes are made visible. They've witnessed things, awful things, no doubt. But he's also got a world of wisdom in them.

This is the part where you find a farewell, something moderately polite so you don't feel awful for kicking him out. (Not your fault you need to rest your feet. At least you get the sense that he'll understand.)

In search for the words, you place a hand on your stomach, "well, it was kind of you to bring that in, uh—"

"—John." He interjects.

Out of habit, you form a clumsy smile and ache to get the proper words out. "It was very kind of you, John. Thank you."

Without any further direction, he's able to pick up on your hints for him to make his exit. The bar is so low these days, it's almost shocking. Shuffling to follow him to the front door, your hand seizes the knob.

There's a lot left unsaid, despite meeting your handsome neighbor only a short time ago. The voice inside urges you to keep it short. Send him off, get out of his hair. He was just being nice.

"I should thank you again," you blurt, almost abruptly. Price turns on his heels with little surprise, a leer written on his thin lips. "Next time, I'll take another trip to carry the bags."

"No next time, love." A purr and a new nickname.

Too smitten to even notice the ruffle of some paper when he reaches a hand in his pocket. Even stole the pen off your entry table (a.k.a the junk-pile-of-mail-table) and you were none the wiser. Dated, the way he scribbles on the crumbled receipt and hands it to you between his index and middle.

Heat rises up your neck and to your face when you inch closer to retrieve the number, somehow finding it within yourself to not break eye contact. John's gaze stays genuine, despite the puff of his chest and the way he breathes your scent in shamelessly.

Albeit frazzled—you weren't born yesterday; he's attractive and extremely luring and you're single and hormonal. Wouldn't take much for something to happen.

And if not, you know you'll have fond daydreams, at the very least.

"You ever need anything, give me a call. 'M good for more than bag carrying."

#divider by benkeibear #not sure what to think of this #john price #captain price x reader #price mw2 #john price x reader #price x reader #captain john price #price cod #price x you #john price x you #task force 141 #cod

[lunarw0rks]

why is this site lacking in dark!price and dark!gaz. that's a crime.

#its always the quiet ones.... just sayinnn.... some prime fucked up writing potential there guys #............. #ignore me #rachel speaks #not writing

[lunarw0rks]

#dare i say #soap mactavish #!!!

[lunarw0rks]

i forgot what i wrote in the ask that got eaten tbh but anyways more valeria thoughts because i need her

OH WAIT I REMEMBER

thoughts about valeria coming home from a long day and using you to destress but the day also wasn’t easy on you and one of her degrading comments goes a little too far, hits a little too close to home.

her being the absolute master of reading body language, catches onto the slight shift in your demeanor before you can even safe word/signal out and everything comes to a complete stop.

and like the switch between the domme/intimidating persona and the one where she genuinely cares about you is night and day. before you know it, she’s hovering over you, cupping your face in her hands and scanning you worriedly.

maybe i just need to be comforted… i think being in her arms would solve 99% of my problems tbh

-🎧

(it's egregious how long it took me to respond to this and i apologize pookie.)

﹌﹌afab!reader. dialogue would be in spanish. implied, notorious purple strap, naturally.

valeria is used to tears, whimpers, even you— clawing at her even when you don't want her to stop. she's a seasoned dom by this point, and even more so when she finds that one special partner.

though she loves you more than anything, she still uses you to distress. and we all know she's got loads of stressors, so it's more often than not you're subjected to some rough play. all in good fun. you're pampered endlessly afterward. and of course, it's pleasurable for you.

but sometimes it's just too much.

like any other hard session, you're limp below her at this point. so many rounds that you've lost count, and you can't feel your limbs. only the nerves ablaze at the apex of your thighs. the sting of her strap abusing your cunt repeatedly, past the point of pleasure. it's only seconds before you register the discomfort— and even less before valeria slows to a stop.

"shit." she curses, "i'm sorry, amor. was i too much?" kisses along your wet cheeks to pry you from your dazed state, until you give her a nod, a look, anything. it'd be dumb of her to expect you to get words out right now, and she's able to read you like a book.

even quicker, she reaches for a towel (fresh, folded, and laid out beforehand) and smooths it along your sweaty skin, her hooded eyes trained on you through it all. wipes you clean and cares extra for any bruises or marks.

absolutely no sessions for at least a while after. insists on having the chef make you something filling and made with love, all while she's getting you in some flexible clothes and clearing her calendar for the next day.

#🎧 anon #valeria garza #valeria mw2 #valeria garza smut #valeria garza x reader #mw2 #call of duty #los vaqueros #kortac #rachel speaks