#cod prompts

[bleuu-moon]

💭 soulmate au, where your dreams are filled with whatever your soulmate has done that previous day…

simon riley, sits and wonders why he’s never had any true nightmares, even with all of the violence and turmoil he’s faced and remains experiencing. he’s never once woken up, questioning his sanity. instead, his nights are often filled with peace and tranquillity, reading books perched on a porch swing or lay beside the sea. watching blurred out figures, run around and fill his absent ears with echoes of laughter, not knowing who they could be, but knowing for certain it overflows his chest with warmth. nothing ever scarier or more worrying than a minor crash of a car, or the gutting feeling of heartbreak from a faceless stranger, fills his dreams.

but then you, frightful when the night comes around. terrified of the urge to close your eyes. the countless therapy sessions, meetings with psychologists and somnologists, an aid to try and fix the terrors that haunt you as you sleep. the ones that randomly came one night when you were young, and never left. images of places that can only resemble war zones, tragic catastrophes that force you awake with beads of sweat on your forehead. but, there are the rare ones, where your dreams are filled with the restful nothingness. the nights where you’re able to sleep through, your mind taking you to a dimly lit room, lay within a spacious comfy bed and the overwhelming feeling of safety. but that one is a temporary haven, for the both of you.

#this came to me and i nearly passed out #i’m so in love with his concept #i was going to say the dreams stop when you meet but nah make them suffer #ghost who returns from deployment only to watch his love relive it as they sleep BYE #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod prompts #simon riley x reader #ghost cod

[ceilidho]

prompt: repressed bi ghost who won't admit he wants to fuck his girlfriend and soap so he keeps making soap watch him with reader and thinks he just has an exhibitionism kink. definitely puts on a bit of a performance for soap tho (ns/fw) (ghost/reader/MAYBE soap)

-

He won’t say it because it’s not true.

He won’t say it because there’s no room for it in his world. He won’t say it because even the threat of it not being reciprocated is enough to make his chest go tight and sharp like a set of claws raking down his front. He won’t say it even though when Soap is assigned to his team, he spends months sitting ramshot straight in the Humvee next to the sergeant, forcing himself to focus on anything aside from the way Soap’s big fingers wrap around the hilt of his knife or the trigger of a gun.

Besides, it’s not like the possibility of love is closed off to him altogether. Ghost knows that from the moment he lays eyes on you; little slip of a thing that works on base, an analyst from a department that doesn’t intersect with his own so there’s no conflict of interest there. It doesn’t take much to get you into his bed and then keep you there—a couple of soft words, arm on the wall next to your head, looming over when he pulls the mask over his lips and he sees the way your eyes go wide at the sight of his mouth and he grins—

Still though, for how deeply entrenched you are in his heart, Ghost can’t shake the feeling that bubbles up in his chest when Soap sneaks up behind him on base or covers him on missions, like they’re a single unit. There's something he needs there, but he can't say it, not even to himself, but it's real and it exists in the fleeting moments when Soap's body is lit by the sun or gunfire or smoke from a cigarette. 

Interestingly enough, it’s actually Soap that brings it up the first time. Outside the bar, the landscape is soaked with light in the dusk; there’s a thin trail of smoke from Price’s cigar off in the distance, only the red butt glowing in the dark announcing his presence, far off as it is. They're otherwise alone though, unwinding after a lengthy mission that left the two of them exhausted and aching, but still alive, so good.

They’re standing outside of the bar leaning against the porch railing that wraps around the front, taking turns making little quips between sips of whatever they’re drinking. 

Soap makes a comment about you, something offhand about where he can find a little thing like you for himself. Ghost’s face doesn’t so much as twitch, even under the mask, but he doesn’t reply, throat tight. Not jealousy. It’s not jealousy or bitterness because if it was, then that would mean something that he doesn’t want to think about, never mind mull over. Never mind dwell in. Soap can fuck whoever he wants—if there’s a girl somewhere like you for him, that’s none of Ghost’s business. 

Doesn’t mean his teeth don’t clench. 

“Bonnie lass at home,” he goes on, pausing only to take a deep drink, smacking his lips when he pulls the glass away. “Warming my bed, waiting for me to get back. Gaun yersel' for getting a little thing like tha’.”

Still Ghost doesn’t respond. 

“Bet you make her work for it, L.T,” Soap teases with a grin, cockiness belied by the blush that stains his cheeks. He gets shifty once the words leave his mouth, almost like he can’t believe he said it, looking off into the distance instead of up at his superior officer.

Ghost hardly registers the words at first, his brain going staticy, thoughts slipping away fast because he realizes that Soap must have been thinking about—Soap must have been imagining you and him like that to say that. 

When he turns to him, his eyes are dark, only a sliver of blue visible around his pupil. “Why? Something you’re interested in?”

Soap goes still and silent, breath rushing out of him. His fingers tighten around the glass and Ghost sees it for a split second. A way in. 

He fucks you extra hard that first time. Lays you out and drags your pussy onto his cock again and again, hips bucking back against yours and your screams get hoarse like it hurts a bit. Just on the side of too painful. It’s always on the side of too much for you because he’s near twice your size; even as used to his size as you are, Ghost still had to tuck two fingers into your cunt to stretch you out enough for him. Got his tongue in there too, just to make sure you were nice and wet. His mask and clothes have long since been stripped, laying in a rumpled pile at the foot of the bed.

Soap’s on the other side of the room, big hand around his dick, lube squelching in his hand. Ghost allows himself to glance over once, eyes glazing over when he sees the way Soap’s hand tightens at the sharp whimper you make when he fucks you just right.

“Like you imagined it, Johnny?” he goads. Your soft gasps drag Ghost’s attention back down to you and he says something crooning and delicate in your ear, making your nails dig into the meat of his back. 

“Fuck no, Ghost—it’s— fuck, suck her tits, please.” His voice rends Ghost down the middle, makes him hot enough that it’s no trouble at all to duck his head and run his tongue over your berry nipple. 

“How’s she takin’ a big yin like you,” Soap grunts, entirely unaware that his words rattle around in Ghost’s head and make him pump between your thighs all the more unhinged. “Tiny thing. Looks fuckin’ tight, Christ. You’d have to drag me offa her—”

He won’t admit that he comes when Soap digs his heels into the carpeted floor and tilts his head back, come striping his belly and tagging across his brown nipples. He watches Soap come and feels something slot in his chest like everything is right for the first time. 

Ghost fits a hand around your neck and holds you still, ducking his head into your neck and watching you and Soap through slit eyes. When you come, clenched around his cock, breath coming out in high, tight pants, Ghost knows that he won’t be able to give this up. Neither of you.

#cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #cod simon riley #cod x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #ceil writing #soap mctavish #cod prompts #ghost/soap/reader #simon ghost riley x reader x soap

[killerpancakeburger]

Imagine being a member of the Task Force who's pining after Ghost, but thinking he's not able to fall for anyone right now and may very well never be. It's fine though - you're happy with standing by his side - or at least you try to convince yourself you are. Soap has a deeper bound with him than you, but that's fine too. You would never dare to come between them. Never dare to deprive Ghost of someone he needs.

So when you see Soap in mortal peril, you don't even need to think about it. You shove him out of the way and take the bullet/knife meant for him. You survive, but barely. All is well.

Or so you think, until Ghost barges into your hospital room and rips into you. His fury is equal to the feelings you made him go through: resentment for throwing your life away so casually, fear of losing you, and the helplessness of being unable to save you.

All this time you’ve been convinced that he'd be happier with Soap alive, even if it meant you dead, so you're utterly confused in front of his rage.

#not gonna write this so im just sharing the idea #rambling into the void #fic ideas #cod x reader #cod mw2 #ghost cod #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #mine #fic prompt #cod imagine #1k #2k #5k

[gomzdrawfr]

10/10 how to make yo man sleep

this is based of @warenai's post, check it out here :D

#i too want someone to seduce me to sleeo #gummmyart #doodle #prompt redraw #friend's post #call of duty #cod #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader

[princessbrunette]

kinktober : oct 20th

könig x getting caught

könig was shameless.

he had you stood up, arched in an uncomfortable yet perfectly demeaning way as he stands behind you, knees bent slightly — practically using you like a toy. you were naked, whilst only his tight khakis were thrust down to mid thigh. you whine, the sound of his pelvis slapping against your ass filling the room.

“thats it, thaaats it.” he growls, one hand coming up to hold you by the throat to give him a better grip on you. “scheiße, my girl. just mine.”

“m’yours!” you try to appease to him, but you’re met with a gentle grip of the jaw, not even turning you to face him, just a show of dominance.

“quiet. if i want a comment from you, i’ll request it.” he pants and you whimper sadly, clenching hard around his obscenely thick length at his mean tone. he goes to say something else, but the door swings open.

some rookie, fresh faced and loudly proclaiming your man’s name as if he’d been searching for him. poor kid, he’ll learn to knock. you gasp, a devastated whine leaving you — and to your surprise könig doesn’t stop, infact he barely acknowledges his presence, only glancing his way as he continues thrusting, leaning back slightly to focus on the way your ass recoils against him. you swear you hear him scoff out a practically inaudible chuckle.

“close the door.” he commands quietly and calmly and the rookie is spinning around, red faced and silent — probably too afraid to reveal to his peers what he just saw. “tsk, silly girl.” he blames you. you cry out in humiliation, a devastating and whiney noise as you try to cover your teary eyes with your hands, and suddenly he’s a lot nicer to you.

he adjusts his stance, spreading his legs wider, feet caging yours as he wraps his arms around your waist, pressing sloppy and affectionate kisses to your jaw, neck and cheek. “did this embarrass you, liebling?” he asks, tone quieter and more sympathetic.

“he s-saw me!” you wail and he’s shushing you, humungous hand rubbing your stomach in a soothing circle before sliding down to rub against your clit. his thrusts are slower now, hips rolling and tummy tensed at the angle he stands at. you collapse against him a little with an eased moan, he hums.

“need to be quiet then, don’t you?” he chastises, but his tone is still gentle. “why don’t you cum for the colonel, hm? make it worth something.”

#könig smut #könig cod smut #könig x reader #könig prompt #call of duty smut #cod smut #kinktober 2023

[saturncodedstarlette]

Y/N : Only geniuses are able say these four words quickly.

Y/N, grinning evilly : Eye. Yam. Stew. Peed.

Ghost, rolls his eyes : No one is going to fall for that—

Soap, too competitive for his own good : IAMSTUPID—

#Cod #Call of duty #call of duty incorrect quotes #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #cod Ghost #cod Ghost x reader #Cod Soap #Cod Soap x reader #Simon Ghost Riley #Simon Ghost Riley x reader #Simon Riley x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #johnny mctavish x reader #Cod Soap x you #Original prompt : Unknown #1k notes

[duty-calls-for-booty]

Simon “Ghost” Riley feels like the type of boyfriend to have a rivalry with his girlfriend’s cat.

Those fuckers are fighting over lap real estate, the cat is leaving light colored hair all over his black clothes, pissing in his duffel bag.

Simon’s mean mugging the little bastard behind your back. Always silently pleased when he gets to scruff it and toss it out of the bedroom so you two can have alone time. “Accidentally” locks it in the bathroom at every opportunity.

You are incredibly frustrated by their refusal to get along.

It all comes to a head when you have to go away for a few days. You ask Simon to cat-sit for you, and despite his grumbling and bitching, he agrees to stay at your place while you’re gone.

When you get back, it’s clear that something has gone down. The blinds in the living room have been replaced. One of your potted plants is missing and another is in a new pot. The ceiling fan is sitting at an angle…But Simon is sleeping soundly in the recliner with the cat curled up purring on his chest, so at least it seems like they’ve worked through their differences.

Now you have to deal with your boyfriend hogging your cat.

#simon ghost riley #call of duty #cod #simon riley x reader #mw3 #very Dad That Didnt Want The Animal That He Now Spoils coded tbh #headcanon #cod mw3 #call of duty modern warfare #writing #writing prompt #fic ideas #text post

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

oml hiiii, i rushed here immediately when i saw your requests are open ive been in love with the idea of maybe ghost having a teenage niece (his older brothers daughter) who he basically raised when he wasn't on duty but like none of the 141 knows about it because he keeps her a secret. He's basically her father at this point cause the rest of the family was murdered when she was only a baby. Anyways, you can do whatever you want with this prompt or not if you don't want to. But like I can totally just imagine Soap just seeing them in a Tescos and absolutely losing his shit when seeing a teenager swinging from his Lieutenants arm.

if you choose not to do this prompt that's completely fine!!! thank you!!!

—Sole Survivor

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Your father died years ago, and so you fall under the stiff, and unyielding, protection of your Uncle Simon. But it's not all bad. He can be funny when he wants to be.] ❞

When you were the only one to live, the sole survivor of that massacre, Simon knew he was in trouble. 

He’d found you under the bed. The blood was still congealing over the wooden floors—whoever put you there, Tommy, his mother, Beth, or even his nephew, was all a mystery that no one would ever know the answer to. Yet, the larger question was how you, a baby, had managed to stay silent through it all. 

Simon had picked you up with panicked breath and tears in his eyes as the sirens of the police had gotten closer, holding you to him as you blinked awake and yawned. The bodies of his family were strewn around the floor, broken and bent; murdered. But you. Little you. 

Alive.

It would be best to leave you to be found by the authorities. To go somewhere far away from him and the future that was now stained into his soul—the pact of revenge and horror that would live through him like a brand. It was the right thing to do; the correct thing.

And then he remembers his mother’s eyes, and he’s already rushing to the back window while cradling your squirming body. The rest, of course, passed as the flow of time always did. 

“I’m thinking we should have steak,” your voice pipes up as Simon grabs a bag of crisps from the shelf. Brown eyes blink down at you, balaclava tight to this face. 

“You have steak money?” You were a teenager now, older and figuring life out one day at a time. He hadn’t told you the whole story, and he won’t until much later, but you know enough to a point that you were comfortable with. 

You know your family loved you. 

“You’re the one with the job,” he huffs at you as you utter under your breath. 

“Exactly,” Simon grunts. “Eatin’ me out of house and home like I never feed you.” 

“I,” you point a finger into the air, “am growing. Soon I’ll be just as tall as you, y’know that? I’ll be towering over everyone and giving them that same dead-eyed look that—” brown orbs level with you, unimpressed. You beam, punching his shoulder. “See! That one!” 

“Fuckin’ piss off, would you?” Simon grumbles, moving down to the next aisle in his large and darkly-clothed glory. Your laugh trails after him, feet heavy on his heels. “Givin’ me a headache.” 

You both walk around the Tesco, Simon getting strange looks while a beaming teenager walks beside him talking about supper, class, and anything in between. He offered short responses, sometimes sarcastic and sometimes serious—it depended, but the point was that he did answer you, no matter how pointless the conversation. 

“I think I’m going to join a club this year,” you speak as you gaze at the items your Uncle puts in his basket. A gaze side-eyes you slowly. 

“What, then?”

“I don’t know,” you hum, shoulder bumping into his arm and tilting your head. “Were you in any clubs?”

He grunts, shaking his head before a hand descends to your hair, ruffling it as you hiss in annoyance. “Never had time.” Simon hadn’t told you about his father or what he had done, and God help him if he ever uttered a word about it. That wasn’t something that mattered in your story, just his…he’d never place that weight on you willingly.

You frown as your uncle's arm loops your shoulders casually, keeping you to him as other people walk past you. Brown filters over posture and facial expressions—looking for the barest hint of ill-intent. When there’s nothing, and the forms move around you as easily as they had come, Simon’s attention leaves, and he continues on as if nothing had happened. 

“Try Debate.” Your face turns to him, curious. 

“Debate?” His eyes twinkle, and behind his face covering you immediately find the tell-tale twitch of a smirk. 

“Argue so bloody well you could convince a rookie that a P890 can hold 10 rounds.”

You fight the shocked smile that pulls at your lips. “I don’t know if I should be offended or not.” Eyes swirl, and a hand squeezes your arm; jostling you slightly. 

“It’s a compliment.”

“You’ve always been shit at those.” You get a firm glare and a grunt from above.

“Fuckin’ language.” Your lips mock his response, making fun of him before he sends a flick of his thumb and forefinger into your temple.

“Hey!” Simon chuckles lowly, walking closer to the front of the store to get ready to pay as you mutter. “Jerk.”

It was a surprise though, that when you had barreled onto your Uncle’s back for an impromptu piggyback ride as payback—which the man didn’t even flinch at, already used to your antics—that the wide eyes of a man with a mohawk met yours. Your head is atop your Uncles, resting there as the lady at the front gives you strange looks from behind the register as Simon places the items in front of her. 

He was gobsmacked, this stranger with his hair all done up like that, and your eyes blink at the display of tags around his neck that mirror your guardians. Broad, yet not so like Simon, and muscled, also, not as much as Simon. 

“Unc?” You ask, and the man below you hums in question, pulling out notes from his wallet absentmindedly. “Who’s the guy with the mohawk?”

Simon tenses under you, fingers freezing.

“With the what?” It wasn’t really shocking that no one knew about you besides Price—and the only reason he knew was that in the event something happened to him, Simon had made the Captain swear that you would be taken care of. 

Imagine his horror when his brown eyes darted up only to find them meeting the cobalt blues of his Sergeant, the Scot's hand outstretched to a box of pancake mix with a pack of Irn Bru in the other. 

There’s an immediate sinking feeling in Simon’s chest when Johnny awkwardly tips his fingers in a shocked greeting—eyes flashing up to your curious face before he thins his lips and blinks. 

You wave enthusiastically back. 

“Oh, bloody fuckin’ hell.”

#I actually want to write a longer fic with this prompt #so i might do that... #cod #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty #cod mw22 #x female reader #mw2 #call of duty x you #mw2 2022 #cod simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #cod simon riley #simon riley #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #cod x female reader #x fem!reader #cod mw #cod mw2

[frogchiro]

Hrrrnnn thinking about boy next door!Kyle who is the absolute sweetheart of the neighbourhood, the kind whom old ladies praise after he led them across the street and all the mothers want their daughters to end up with him or at least with someone like him.

But he has eyes on only one person, you! You were childhood friends, always together, always playing in the garden together and spending time and even now that you're both in college didn't stop or put a damper on your friendship! Even better, you two somehow got even closer because you just couldn't help but slowly fall for Kyle's big, beautiful eyes, how they softened every time he saw you, his lips that stretched wide whenever you called out to him, not to mention his obvious charm and charisma and his goodhearted nature...Oh if you only knew.

Boy next door!Kyle who is obsessed with for many years now to the point of almost insanity. You're perfect in every aspect to him; your smile, your soft voice, how sweet you are and how you're genuinely the best person he ever met...But that attracted trouble.

He stalked your social media, he took photos of you whenever he couls just so he could look at the in the privacy of his own room and touch hinself to them, moaning your name out and imagining you bouncing on his dick, calling out to him in your sweet voice, but after the deed his mood always soured. He knew that he was far from being the only one who felt for you this way, and he always had to do something about them.

Like that jock in high school, Connor was his name. Up and coming sports star, the golden boy of the football team and the known school casanova who changed his girls every week and it just happened that his flavor of the week was you. Even after multiple times you shot him down politely, he still insisted. And insisted. And insisted until it clearly made you uncomfortable and Kyle couldn't have that right?

What a shame that the same month poor Connor had a incident which basically made him say goodbye to any sports carreer in the future. Pity. But Kyle was so happy! No one made his girl upset. No one.

#kin speaks #yes this is one of the prompts in my old kinktober that I never got to write😭 #but yandere boy next door gaz has been bouncing around my head for the whole day now #i hope you guys enjoy it as much as i did ;; #cod x reader #cod mw x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick

[bleuu-moon]

imagine you’re a civilian who’s held hostage with price, but you don’t know he’s in the special forces, until he’s forced to whisper it in your ear as a way to try and calm you down as you begin to hyperventilate. telling you how if your captors knew, they’d kill him straight away, but he knows his men are already out looking for him.

and then it all starts to make sense, the way he never seemed fazed by the two days that you’ve both been locked up for, the constant reassurance he offered when you began getting overly emotional, the checking in on you, the advice he offered to drink sips, not gulps and ways to conserve your energy.

he knows he gave you hope, as you become more talkative, making conversation about your outside lives. asking him personal questions that he doesn’t mind to answer for you, and seeing how you perk up talking about yours, he reciprocates the questions.

by day five, it feels like ten, but you’ve become a peace for one another. talking escapes you both, temporarily erasing the memory of your current situation.

you’re there, rushing to his side when he gets a blow to the face from one of your detainers, a result of his unsmart mouth, asking him how to help stop the bleeding from the gash on his cheek. he tries to shoo you away, ensuring he’s fine, but once you rip a piece of fabric from your t-shirt and press it to his injury, it’s almost like he rests into your touch.

he begins becoming protective, when a captor makes a beeline for you, he won’t hesitate but to use himself as a human shield. willingly taking another punch or kick a punishment for his distraction. when a small bottle of water and stale food is shoved underneath the gate, he’ll make sure you have more than he does, refusing to listen to your protests. whenever he’s able to sleep, he’ll place himself closest to the door, in front of you, yet always facing you. once you’re tired, he’ll urge you to sleep, making sure he doesn’t sleep for too long at the same time.

the only time that john panics in that cell, is when a gun is pulled up to your head, as a blackmailing tactic for information.

information that your brain doesn’t comprehend as your body is whirling in fight or flight. you watch on as he attempts to bargain with the man behind you, whilst still offering you comfort with the way his eyes soften as they meet yours, and a hand reaching out towards you.

and that’s when the cavalry arrive.

the chance to fall to your knees, free from the enemy’s grasp as he runs towards the gunfire, john lunging forwards to collect you in his arms. cradling you into his chest as you fall apart against him. he soothes you, telling you that it’s all over, that you’re okay.

you don’t leave johns side until you arrive at the hospital. glued to him from the moment he stood you up and walked out the cell with pulled into his side, hearing words of affirmation towards him from those who refer to him as “captain”. in the helicopter, he still had you right there, so close to him, you may as-well be one. that’s why the nurses have to pretty much pry you from him when you land.

conveniently, you both end up on other sides of the building, as your vitals are checked and monitored. not knowing that john was discharged almost straight away, and on his way to find you within the first couple of hours, to everyone else’s dismay.

he doesn’t know the emotion he feels the second he see’s you asleep, but all he knows is that the sight brings him to the verge of tears. the drip that’s connected to the top of your hand, the continuous beeping that mirrors your steady heartbeat, but most of all — how peaceful and healthy you look already. admiring you, he quietly finds himself beside your bed, his hand subconsciously wrapping around yours, instantly noticing the warmth that you now possess. and when you slightly flinch, and flicker your eyes open to meet his, the small smile that forms on your lips almost brings john to his knees.

and that, right there, is how he knows that even though the way you met wasn’t ideal, he wants you beside him for the rest of his life.

#this was one of them things that i wrote read it back got disappointed and then thought fuck it #i will write a longer version of this one day #love these two x #captain john price #this was done in like an hour so bare with meeee #price x reader #captain price x reader #cod prompts

[ceilidho]

prompt: post-apocalypse ghost/reader fic where ghost and the rest of his team come across the feral, blood-soaked reader who stabs first and asks questions later. (on ao3 here)

-

The world ends on a Monday.

Abysmal timing; they’re on leave by chance, the whole lot of them. Soap and Gaz are playing cards in the barracks when they get the call. Price is still in his office when a phone in the corner of the room that never rings suddenly does (he stares at it for a time before picking it up). Ghost is someplace, no one knows for sure; what they do know is that when he does finally answer their calls, he’s out of breath and there’s a thread of panic in his voice that makes the blood in Soap’s veins run cold. 

He’s never heard him sound like that. He never will again.

The virus rages across the country, hopping borders like they melt away into the ether. Country after country toppelling to this unnamed virus that demolishes society so completely that there was never a chance for the military to contain it. That chance evaporates before even the faintest spark of hope is lit. 

Soap is used to killing, but what he never gets used to is the sight of those things that take human shape. Calling them zombies is easy at first, but even that name comes with a sense of distance; it evokes things seen in films and tv shows, not the real flesh-and-blood of it all, not sitting in a caravan speeding down the motorway with bodies torn apart and scattered across the road. He learns to bite his teeth and hold his bile down at the sight of one of those creatures hunched over the masticated remains of a person. 

Then suddenly it’s seven months later. The core unit of them make their way across the continent, taking back roads where they’re less likely to encounter the hoards of infected. They’ve had too many close calls for them to take chances anymore—even armed to the gills and strapped in body armor (the remnants of the military efforts that collapsed within days), Gaz’s shoulder pad has crumpled beneath too sharp teeth and Roach has had his legs swept out from under him, his throat nearly exposed, nearly torn open.

Ghost’s hands are still wet with gore from taking that infected apart. If any of them make it, it will likely be him.

A part of Soap worries about Ghost. Even he feels the tender edges of his own humanity bristle at the day-in and day-out struggle that is now a luxury rather than a hardship. Just being able to survive is a miracle. Ghost just goes dark. From the little Soap knows of Ghost (which is still more than most; he’s confident enough to say that of their group, he’s the one that Ghost shows himself to the most), he knows that Ghost has already endured enough suffering for an army. Never mind a single man. 

There’s a flatness behind his eyes these days and it scares Soap, just a bit. He no longer looks like a person behind a mask but rather the sun-baked skull itself. 

His worry only fades when they come across the girl.

She’s a feral little thing, half-starved and out of her mind. They see her slip in and out of abandoned houses when they make their way through a small village in the French countryside (or what Soap thinks is France), hair matted with sweat and blood. 

It’s Ghost that pauses, Ghost that makes them stop and detours long enough to creep up on her, holding a big hand to her mouth when she howls and tries to tear his whole arm off. It takes over an hour to calm her down long enough to reassure her that they mean her no harm. She tries to take off no less than six times.

Soap has never seen Ghost look smitten, but there’s no other word for it. 

When Price tentatively suggests leaving the girl behind—not a terrible suggestion after she tries to stab Ghost—the look Ghost levels him with brooks no further arguments. They’re keeping the girl. 

She’s his problem, as far as Soap and the rest of them are concerned. No name, unless it’s Soap yelling “Girl” or “Hey, you!” when she does something stupid like actively seeking out infected to kill. Ghost chuckles all deep baritone when he sees her hack away at an infected man’s neck. It’s enough to make a man hurl. Love in a time of zombies. 

He hears them murmuring to each other sometimes, late at night when the team is holed up in a house or a barn they’ve commandeered. Doors always reinforced, someone standing guard on the roof. The low rasp of Ghost’s voice, almost susurrous, almost intimate. Her voice like a chittering wolf. 

Hovering between sleep and wakefulness, Soap doesn’t look away from the wall in front of him. He knows if he does, if he turns over from where he’s supposed to be sleeping, he’ll see Ghost hovering over the girl roughly half his size, her face blocked only by the way his arms frame either side of her head. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to stomach the sight of his friend’s hips bucking into the girl.

He hears him mutter something like, “You needed to be found. I needed to find you.” and then it’s enough. He lets his brain shut off. 

If it keeps Ghost sane and with them, so be it. 

#cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod prompts #soap mctavish #cod simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ceil writing #simon riley x you #ghost/reader

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The junior quintet riding a giant illustrious cod.

(For @sandpancakecat)

#poorly drawn mdzs #mdzs #digital art #Jin ling #lan jingyi #lan sizhui #ouyang zizhen #nameless red disciple #codfish #What an incredibly whimsical prompt! I enjoyed the how it tickled my mind! #I do *not* have more to say about what is going on here as this was not wholly my brain child. But I enjoy it! #Perhaps they are on a night hunt and trying to catch a giant cod spirit. #I am just so delighted to be able to draw these five hanging out again that my mind has gone blank. #Regardless - I'm feeling happy with how this turned out! Fish are fun to draw! #One more raffle post to go! See you all tomorrow!

[gomzdrawfr]

y/n please

redraw of @warenai's incorrect quotes from this post

shameless plug but my commissions are open :]

#you're no fun Lt #yeah well the base burning down is no fun either #pftttt #gummmyart #doodle #prompt redraw #friend's post #simon ghost riley #incorrect call of duty quotes #incorrect cod quotes #call of duty #call of duty x reader #cod #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader

[princessbrunette]

kinktober : oct 29th

könig x manhandling

könig often made you feel weightless.

it was one of your favourite things about him, the way he’d handle you. can’t reach something? he’s grabbing you beneath your arms and lifting you effortlessly in the air so that you can, large hands splayed across your ribcage. not cuddling him when you’re sitting on the couch? he’s manhandling you into the position he wants you until your cheek is pressed to his chest and he’s holding you close. giving him attitude in public? he’s gripping the back of your neck and walking you like a dog swiftly back to the car, at his pace of course — so you’re stumbling and tripping over your feet to keep up.

best of all, you love when könig manhandles you during your more intimate hours. you’re bending over the kitchen counter for him, drooling and whining on the marble as he fucks you. it’s almost too much, almost — he knows how much you can take. you squeeze your thighs together, crying as you wriggle away, and without thinking he kicks your feet open wider and roughly yanks your ass back against him by snaking a thick arm beneath your stomach.

“keep those open.” he hisses like it’s nothing, referring to your trembling thighs. you accidentally disobey, unable to hold your position anymore as you whine pathetically. your knees go jelly-like, unable to hold yourself up anymore and he tsks, pulling you up by the elbow and turning you around to face his hulking frame. when he lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist you think he’s going to carry you to the bedroom to finish things off, but instead he leans back, lining himself up with your entrance, holding you by the ass cheeks. then, he’s pushing inside, planting his feet wider on the floor for balance and using you like a fleshlight.

he’s so much bigger than you, and you feel like you’re being speared in the best way imaginable. humiliatingly, each time he bounces you on his cock, you let out a little squeak — like a dog toy being trod on repeatedly.

“horny little thing, love being roughhoused hm?” he snickers, accent thick and cruel as he glances back up at you, between watching himself enter you and watching your tits bounce.

like you said, könig really made you feel weightless.

#könig cod smut #könig smut #könig x reader #könig prompt #call of duty smut #kinktober 2023

[saturncodedstarlette]

[Ghost and you cuddling in bed after a long, exhausting day]

Y/N, with chin on top of his head :

Y/N, sniffs his hair :

Y/N : Your hair smells like… roses? Is that the new shampoo?

Ghost, his head resting on your chest with comforting grip around your waist :

Ghost : I figured you’d prefer if I smelled nicer. I guess… it’s not manly?

Y/N, snickered, placed a gentle kiss on his head : I like it. It smells nice. I’m just a little surprised, that’s all.

Y/N : And you’re always manly to me, Simon. Whatever shampoo you use.

#Original prompt by Under the Oak Tree Manhwa #but i tweaked a little #Cod #Call of duty #Cod incorrect quotes #call of duty incorrect quotes #Call of duty x reader #Cod x reader #Cod Ghost #Simon Ghost Riley #Simon Riley #Cod Ghost x reader #Cod Ghost x you #Simon Ghost Riley x reader #Simon Ghost Riley x you #Simon Riley x reader #Simon Riley x you #🌻Relaunch old incorrect quotes🌻 #My 2024 works

[duty-calls-for-booty]

Ghost and Soap are on leave during a fireworks display and Soap decides to distract them both from the stress inducing booms and pops by calling out the names of the elements used to get each color.

“That green one there, that’s Barium.”

“Strontium gets you red. You can even mix them like paints. The yellow is Sodium and if you mix it with Strontium you get orange.”

“Blue is the hardest color to make. It uses a Copper and has to be heated to a certain temperature. Too hot and it flares too bright and washes out the color. Too cold and you lose the intensity.”

Ghost basks in the familiar cadence of Soap’s voice, letting it soothe his anxiety. He asks questions intermittently to keep Soap engaged, let him know that he’s present.

It’s the most either of them have enjoyed fireworks in years.

#ghost x soap #ghoap #call of duty #cod #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #modern warfare #writing #my writing #fic ideas #writing prompt #drabble