waves-against-a-cliff

[waves-against-a-cliff]

Anyway

A deal is struck between you and Soap. One round to get you out of his system and he'll leave you alone.

Cw: piv sex, mean dom Soap, fae magic, afab!reader, mild dubcon bordering on cnc at the end

Fae are often curious about you, but you have to admit Soap takes the cake. He follows you around like a dog on a short leash. It's maddening. You have no privacy and no recourse to send him on his way. After all the fae don't help without expecting something in return, and the police hardly seem bothered by the stalking. As always you have to take matters into your own hands.

You ask him what he wants, because you can't decipher the tangled web that seems to drift around him like a cloud and it takes him a moment. Fae get that question a lot you suppose, and they're so particular about language. It's why you're good at your job and get so few complaints, what you traded your eyes for.

"I want you," he says finally. You catch the spark of a want, lust that's sucked back into the mire of him. You can do that, though it's a little annoying.

"You just need to get me out of your system," you tell him, watching something crumble in his eyes. His brows draw together, his lips draw down, he does a good show of looking upset.

"I don't want you-"

"If I sleep with you, will that work?" You ask, no time for whatever nonsense he's going to try and weave. It perks him up, makes him nod like he can't do it quick enough. You hold up your hand to stop him, "you get one round, then you gotta leave me alone."

Soap mulls it over. You can see the way his lips purse, his tongue running over his teeth. He holds his hand out.

"Deal." He nearly drags you across the bar when you take his hand.

-

"You came, thats-" you sob out a moan, your eyes rolling as your back arches and your hips force themselves down onto Soap's cock, "-That's one."

"Oh no bonnie," Soap grins, grabbing your hips and pulling you down like a toy, fucking his thick cock up into you and hitting just the right spot each time, "the round's nae over until one of us taps oot."

You dig your nails into his shoulders, squeeze your eyes shut against the pleasure that he fucks into you. It feels electric, your stomach clenches, your pussy clenches, your body is desperate for more. The arch of your back forces you to lean closer to him, keeping the angle just right as you struggle against your traitorous body's desire for more. Soap takes the opportunity to lean up and drag his teeth over your nipple, catching the bud in his mouth and sucking hard. You gasp and feel your rhythm falter. Soap's hips still piston into you, but the gap in your hiccuped wailing makes him growl.

He pulls out, spins you around, forces your face down into the sheets and smacks his cock against your cunt. "No tappin' out hen," he tells you, sheathing himself inside you in a single hard thrust, "ya want this as much as I do." Your moan is high and tight. Your cunt aches, your insides battered and throbbing for more. Everything is tight, tight, tight. Your breath comes quick, gasps between moans, everything is wet and wonderfully painful, pleasureably painful. Too much and yet you still want more, more, more.

Soap smacks your ass, rubs his hand over the sting when you press into it. His hand slides to push your shoulders down, muttering for you to arch your back, but you can't, not when he makes you want to run with every perfect thrust. Soap's body blankets you, his thick thighs cage your own, his broad chest presses against your back, and he hooks his arm under your chin to pull your teeth from the blankets. You are well and truly pinned when his other hand sneaks between your legs to rub your clit in quick tight circles.

The come dripping out of you, forced from your cunt with each snap of Soap's hips, provides ample lubrication, and makes your cheeks burn. He flexes, chokes you between his bicep and forearm, toying with your clit while he fucks you. You may as well have handed him a manual on how to make you come. It should have happened by now, should have shuddered through you, but you rest just at the precipice of it, whining and whimpering when you aren't gasping and groaning. Soap kisses your temple, your eyes find his, that awful ice blue shining with something you can't put a name to. Pride, maybe.

"You don't come until I tell you to," he says it like a law, it feels like one. You whine, reach to push your hands weakly against his muscular, hairy, thighs, just for a second of reprieve.

"No-o," you whine, you're drooling, dripping from your cunt and your lips. Soap licks his tongue across your mouth, spreads your slick folds with his fingers and pinches your clit.

"Yes," he coos, "you want to don't ya?" You can feel the undercurrent of the question, the monkey's paw of dealing with the fae. But you do. You do. You're so tight and wet and wanting, you want to come, you want to fell apart for him, you want to be good and give him what he so desperately seems to need. And then you can wash your hands of him. One round to get it out of his system, that was the deal.

"Tell me you're mine," he murmurs, "tell me you're mine hen and you can come."

"Yours." Its out of you before you can even think the word, fucked out you, your body a cock-drunk traitor, "yours, yours." You sob it, scream it, tiny knots loosen inside your chest and the feeling floods you.

You stiffen, your voice and breath caught in your throat as something choked rips through you. Your muscles shake with it, you heart beating like a drum as pleasure crashes down into you. Soap fucks you through it, keeps you full of his cock while your cunt clenches and tries to suck him through another orgasm.

Soap groans, and you feel heat flood you a second time. Your eyes roll back, a shiver going up your spine as it burns against your aching cervix. He pulls back, his cock drags against your overworked, gummy, walls and it's bliss. The gentle stretch, the punctuated ripple of heat when he bumps against your g spot, it's a welcome reprieve. Until he thrusts back inside.

"Can't, no-" You don't think Soap heard you, too busy dragging his stubble against your neck, mouthing at your jaw. You're pushed over another cliff, your pussy squeezing so tight around Soap's cock you think you can feel ever vein on that beautiful thing. He groans, the sound low beside your ear and dangerously intoxicating.

"What did I say love?" He reminds you, "we go until you tap out."

[waves-against-a-cliff]

No joke, I'm eating grapes while reading this. High class smut right here. I love fae soap, nasty nasty man. Needs bonked with a newspaper

A deal is struck between you and Soap. One round to get you out of his system and he'll leave you alone.

Cw: piv sex, mean dom Soap, fae magic, afab!reader, mild dubcon bordering on cnc at the end

Fae are often curious about you, but you have to admit Soap takes the cake. He follows you around like a dog on a short leash. It's maddening. You have no privacy and no recourse to send him on his way. After all the fae don't help without expecting something in return, and the police hardly seem bothered by the stalking. As always you have to take matters into your own hands.

You ask him what he wants, because you can't decipher the tangled web that seems to drift around him like a cloud and it takes him a moment. Fae get that question a lot you suppose, and they're so particular about language. It's why you're good at your job and get so few complaints, what you traded your eyes for.

"I want you," he says finally. You catch the spark of a want, lust that's sucked back into the mire of him. You can do that, though it's a little annoying.

"You just need to get me out of your system," you tell him, watching something crumble in his eyes. His brows draw together, his lips draw down, he does a good show of looking upset.

"I don't want you-"

"If I sleep with you, will that work?" You ask, no time for whatever nonsense he's going to try and weave. It perks him up, makes him nod like he can't do it quick enough. You hold up your hand to stop him, "you get one round, then you gotta leave me alone."

Soap mulls it over. You can see the way his lips purse, his tongue running over his teeth. He holds his hand out.

"Deal." He nearly drags you across the bar when you take his hand.

-

"You came, thats-" you sob out a moan, your eyes rolling as your back arches and your hips force themselves down onto Soap's cock, "-That's one."

"Oh no bonnie," Soap grins, grabbing your hips and pulling you down like a toy, fucking his thick cock up into you and hitting just the right spot each time, "the round's nae over until one of us taps oot."

You dig your nails into his shoulders, squeeze your eyes shut against the pleasure that he fucks into you. It feels electric, your stomach clenches, your pussy clenches, your body is desperate for more. The arch of your back forces you to lean closer to him, keeping the angle just right as you struggle against your traitorous body's desire for more. Soap takes the opportunity to lean up and drag his teeth over your nipple, catching the bud in his mouth and sucking hard. You gasp and feel your rhythm falter. Soap's hips still piston into you, but the gap in your hiccuped wailing makes him growl.

He pulls out, spins you around, forces your face down into the sheets and smacks his cock against your cunt. "No tappin' out hen," he tells you, sheathing himself inside you in a single hard thrust, "ya want this as much as I do." Your moan is high and tight. Your cunt aches, your insides battered and throbbing for more. Everything is tight, tight, tight. Your breath comes quick, gasps between moans, everything is wet and wonderfully painful, pleasureably painful. Too much and yet you still want more, more, more.

Soap smacks your ass, rubs his hand over the sting when you press into it. His hand slides to push your shoulders down, muttering for you to arch your back, but you can't, not when he makes you want to run with every perfect thrust. Soap's body blankets you, his thick thighs cage your own, his broad chest presses against your back, and he hooks his arm under your chin to pull your teeth from the blankets. You are well and truly pinned when his other hand sneaks between your legs to rub your clit in quick tight circles.

The come dripping out of you, forced from your cunt with each snap of Soap's hips, provides ample lubrication, and makes your cheeks burn. He flexes, chokes you between his bicep and forearm, toying with your clit while he fucks you. You may as well have handed him a manual on how to make you come. It should have happened by now, should have shuddered through you, but you rest just at the precipice of it, whining and whimpering when you aren't gasping and groaning. Soap kisses your temple, your eyes find his, that awful ice blue shining with something you can't put a name to. Pride, maybe.

"You don't come until I tell you to," he says it like a law, it feels like one. You whine, reach to push your hands weakly against his muscular, hairy, thighs, just for a second of reprieve.

"No-o," you whine, you're drooling, dripping from your cunt and your lips. Soap licks his tongue across your mouth, spreads your slick folds with his fingers and pinches your clit.

"Yes," he coos, "you want to don't ya?" You can feel the undercurrent of the question, the monkey's paw of dealing with the fae. But you do. You do. You're so tight and wet and wanting, you want to come, you want to fell apart for him, you want to be good and give him what he so desperately seems to need. And then you can wash your hands of him. One round to get it out of his system, that was the deal.

"Tell me you're mine," he murmurs, "tell me you're mine hen and you can come."

"Yours." Its out of you before you can even think the word, fucked out you, your body a cock-drunk traitor, "yours, yours." You sob it, scream it, tiny knots loosen inside your chest and the feeling floods you.

You stiffen, your voice and breath caught in your throat as something choked rips through you. Your muscles shake with it, you heart beating like a drum as pleasure crashes down into you. Soap fucks you through it, keeps you full of his cock while your cunt clenches and tries to suck him through another orgasm.

Soap groans, and you feel heat flood you a second time. Your eyes roll back, a shiver going up your spine as it burns against your aching cervix. He pulls back, his cock drags against your overworked, gummy, walls and it's bliss. The gentle stretch, the punctuated ripple of heat when he bumps against your g spot, it's a welcome reprieve. Until he thrusts back inside.

"Can't, no-" You don't think Soap heard you, too busy dragging his stubble against your neck, mouthing at your jaw. You're pushed over another cliff, your pussy squeezing so tight around Soap's cock you think you can feel ever vein on that beautiful thing. He groans, the sound low beside your ear and dangerously intoxicating.

"What did I say love?" He reminds you, "we go until you tap out."

[waves-against-a-cliff]

reading soap’s biography on a wiki site and being reminded that he has a tattoo on the back of his neck…

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Thinking about Soap and his breeding kink again <3 Thanks to @keegansshark who helped me come up with this idea!

CW: MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI !! 18+ / NSFW content. f!reader with female anatomy, breeding kink, and unprotected p in v sex. Please let me know if I missed anything!

Johnny groans as your silky, warm walls tighten around him. Your jaw goes slack and your eyes roll back into your skull in response to his cock pounding into you at a brutal pace.

“Fuck hen… Clenchin’ around me…” he growls. The thick, black bush of curls at the base of his dick brushes against your clit, sending you barreling towards your climax. Your moans increase in pitch as you arch against his toned body.

“Oh yes, Johnny! Yes!” You cry out when the bliss of orgasm spreads through your abdomen all the way up to your head, making you feel entirely weightless. The Scot follows suit and groans loudly as his cock twitches and his thick cum floods your pussy.

After catching his breath for a moment, Johnny pulls out and moves down the length of your body. He spreads your still-shaky legs gently to get an unobstructed view of your pussy. Milky seed spills from your hole, the load being too large to possibly keep inside you.

“So bonnie…” Johnny whispers to himself at the sight of your messy cunt. His praise is short-lived as more semen dribbles out of you and he clicks his tongue in response.

“You naughty bird,” he mumbles while shaking his head. The Scot collects the spilled fluid with his index finger, pushing back inside you, causing you to whine softly. “Might have tae fill ye again since ye don’t know how tae appreciate what I give ye.”

[waves-against-a-cliff]

NSFW Size Difference HCs with Simon Pt 2

F!Reader, Part 1

Before you, Simon never had a partner that was able to take him more than halfway. So the first time you took his cock all the way down, he knew right then and there he was going to marry you

This man is thick everywhere, which is fun when it comes to stretching your pussy open, but not so fun when it means you can’t fully wrap your legs around his waist :(

Lube is a must-have when you’re having sex, but cum is a decent alternative when you’re in a pinch (good thing he’s always making sure to pump you full of it 😊)

Thinking about trying anal? Go right ahead! So long as you’re okay with not sitting right for the next week

You thought the reason he has such a big car is because he needs the leg room. While that’s partially true, it’s also because he likes to fuck you in the backseat without bumping his head on the ceiling

Speaking of which, you’ve had to rein him in when it comes to getting adventurous on where you have sex. You can only break so many dining room tables before he realizes maybe it’s better to stick to the bed

He got you one of those clone-a-cock dildos because he knows none of your toys can satisfy you like he does. In return for such a nice gift, you make sure to send him videos of you using it when he’s off on deployment

You never understood his obsession with raising your hips up everytime he took you on your back – that is, until you looked down and saw for yourself how your stomach bulged from where his cock was hitting you from the inside 😳

Beast of a man that he is, he doesn’t let himself get too rough with you in bed. He’s not trying to break you, poor little thing :(

That being said, if you give him permission, he’s not above pinning both your wrists to the mattress with one hand as he fucks you within an inch of your life

One of his favorite things to do after pulling out of you is spread your lips apart and watch how your little hole gapes for him

It’s okay, baby. He knows how puffy and swollen your pussy gets after having two loads fucked into it. But you can take another one, can’t you? That’s a good girl…

[waves-against-a-cliff]

GHOST, GAZ, & PRICE OPERATOR INTROS | MODERN WARFARE 2019

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reblog for sample size !!

#i assign you grey cat

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Here, you, uh.. You dropped this. I believe it's something like a newly moved in across the road neighbor Gaz with his shirt off, sweating under the sun, on his knees digging in a flowerbed to plant his tulips 'cause he likes him a pretty home, and then he pops open his larger than life water bottle and sprayes some on his head and the back of his neck while you play droplet race to which one dips beneath his pants the fastest, and then he looks over with those beautiful, shiney teeth of his sparkling as he smiles and makes a kissey face towards you while you stand there slack jawed the entire time in front of your large ass, freshly cleaned windows.

This is yours, right?

oops sorry it fell out of my pussy

ty for bringing it to me, idk what i would've done without my delicious neighbor kyle being a gardener while i stare at him like some creepy voyeur with my mouth gaping like a fish out of water.

hey but then you bring him over some baked goodies to him or something and you're just trying to be the kind neighbor alright (please god, don't let sharon walk past, the old hag doesn't know how to mind her own) and he takes it graciously, a velvety thank you in response and he's british --guys call the ambulance cuz you're about to flatline-- and then some little knee baby pokes his head from behind kyle and you're frozen, ONCE MORE, because he's got a girl some--

"i'm divorced. it's just the little pup and i."

😭😭😭😭

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no johnny, ya mum doesn't count

LMAO GET ROASTED SOAP

i’m gonna make that man (big pookie bear ghost) the best meal he’s gonna ever eat. gonna give him food wars! foodgasms with this homecooked, love-filled sunday roast or something like that

after all, the best way to a man’s heart is through their stomach

literally his. while he's got eyes and warm blood just like any other human, looks aren't so much his thing. not to say he won't appreciate eye candy but he's not much of a looker himself so to demand his li be a 10 would be hilariously hypocritical.

and besides, coming home to a warm home with a dinner table laden with steaming food is his little piece of heaven. he's a simple man with simple tastes, so sue him.

and the best part is that he doesn't care if the food's inedible. the point is that you tried and it'll make his tiny, withered heart race. (he always shows his appreciation post every dinner too)

+ imagine conditioning him to get hard over the scent of your food. like him bringing the guys over and you always cook with a window cracked open so he can smell it and now he's adjusting the front of his jeans shamelessly because at least he's got someone to come home to, can you blokes say the same? and no, johnny, ya mum doesn't count.

[waves-against-a-cliff]

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Could we get Gaz reacting to reader spreading rumours on base that they're dating for no good reason other than to undermine his authority and piss him off? (Inspired by your reader flirting with Gaz on the job piece) 🙏

tasty tasty tasty.

ok so there is a reason other than undermining his authority. but a pissed-off Gaz is a pissed-off Gaz, right?

26 / 1.4k / comes after flirting with Gaz on the job

...

You're on your way to a briefing, eyes cast down on the paperwork in your hands. You did not do your homework, as usual, so you're skimming what you can in the four minutes it takes you to walk to the meeting room.

Which is why you almost don't see Gaz standing in front of you, arm braced on the wall, blocking your way. To someone else, he'd read as neutral. You know his face too well to misread the stern glower tightening his features.

"Excuse me," you say, trying to sidestep him.

Gaz doesn't move. He also clearly knows he can't be moved. Not by you.

"Late for a meeting?" he asks lightly.

"No, sir, but I will be in just a few minutes. So if you don't mind--"

"Not at all," he says in a voice that implies the opposite. "Since you're about to be late anyway, how about you and me have a little chat, yeah?"

"I couldn't possibly take up more of your valuable time," you say, slipping into the flirtatious tone you so often direct at him. You try to slide past him, but nothing escapes Gaz. "Though I'm flattered you'd--"

He grabs your arm. Not roughly—he never touches you roughly, probably because you’d just egg him on—but firmly enough not to be ignored. "With me, Private."

You're too flustered to resist as he pulls you through the halls and into a different office. Captain Price's office, you notice.

“Have a seat.” He gestures to the chair in front of desk, then sits himself on Price’s chair. The corner of his mouth curls up. That’s unnerving.

You don't sit. "Sir, I appreciate your urgency, but I really must get to my briefing. Shepherd will wonder where I am."

Gaz's stare is steady as a hawk's. You'd love the chance to gaze into his eyes under any other circumstances. But now?

"Then Shepard can take it up with me," he says. "He wouldn't be surprised to hear we're spending time together, after all. Or hasn't he heard?"

You sweat. Oh, shit. "I, um, don't know why he wouldn't be surprised."

His eyes harden. “No? I hear we've been spending quite a lot of time together lately. Funny how I was the last to know about it."

Inwardly, you cringe. "I can explain."

“Yeah?” he challenges you. He crosses his arms, leaning back. "You can explain where the hell you get off spreading grubby little rumors about how you and I are fooling around?"

"I said I can." You fidget with the stapled corners of the packets of paper in your arm, folding and creasing them as your mind runs at ninety miles an hour. "So what did you hear, exactly?"

"What I heard was that we're seeing each other in the least professional way imaginable," Gaz says, voice clipped. He keeps his expression and tone controlled only with visible effort. "That I’m having a cozy little fling with a private. Someone who is technically my subordinate. That could cost me a lot of time and patience if my superiors decided to write me up."

"But Captain Price would never believe that about you, though. Right? I mean, the rumor mill is always churning out something. Last month it was Sergeant MacTavish and the girl from IT."

His expression gets frostier. "You started the rumor about us. I know it was you."

You fight the urge to glance back at the door behind you. You try to weave an excuse together, but it gets stuck in your throat.

Gaz leans forward now. His glare is so sharp it could slice glass. He seems to grow in size as he stares you down. He’s so intense, so intimidating, so… right there. Way too close. You start to get distracted, swimming in his dark eyes, before his voice yanks you back to reality.

"I know because some prick claiming to be your ex-boyfriend confronted me about it. Said you put the idea in his head that I'm keeping you warm at night. Took a swing at me, too." He narrows his eyes. "I don't like being put in a position to defend your honor just to protect my reputation, Private."

You stumble through a litany of excuses--you had to get your ex off your back; you meant a different Sergeant Garrick; okay, maybe that's not true, but you only just told a tiny little fib. Is it really your fault the rumor spiraled out of control?

It doesn't work. In fact, as you babble on, Gaz only takes your flailing as proof of how guilty you are.

You're prepared for him to tear you a new asshole (though not in the way you'd want), but to your surprise, he doesn't. Instead:

"You’re going to make this right."

You blink. "I am?"

"Damn right you are. I did your dirty work for you, and I'm sure as hell not chasing down your ex and apologizing after the rubbish he spewed."

"Then... you want me to tell him I lied?"

Gaz scoffs. "It wouldn't work if you did."

"Then what am I supposed to do? Ignore it?"

"Quiet down. I wasn't finished. There's no use trying to quell the rumors at this point; it'll only fuel them. So here's what we're gonna do."

…

You're not quite sure how this is going to solve the problem. It seemed rational when he explained it. Then again, anything coming out of Gaz’s mouth sounds reasonable to you.

You're sitting across from him at a low-key dinner joint. Not the kind of upscale place you're used to being taken to on dates. Then again, this place wasn't your choice. And technically you're treating him to dinner. He’s the one who’s quote-unquote "breaking up" with you.

When you'd questioned his logic, pointing out that it'd be way easier to just not and say you did, he gave you a half-amused, half-condescending look that made your stomach too fluttery.

"If you're gonna use my name and risk my reputation to be my fake girlfriend, I'm gonna get something out of it," he'd said. So now you've gotta wine and dine him at his favorite restaurant, and then you're gonna have to sit there and be broken up with. As if he hasn't shamed you enough.

That sucks. This sucks. You never even got a real date with him. And with your luck, your ex is gonna find out.

You do try to flirt your way back into his good graces during this fake-relationship-real-date. He just scoffs. Doesn't just no-sell you--he actively bites back and he's pretty damn mean about it.

You're not just a liar, he tells you--you're dense. If you'd asked him out like a normal person instead of flirting with him and then starting stupid rumors, he'd have considered it. When you tell him you had asked him out and he’d turned you down, he scoffs and tells you he'd have split the bill instead of making you pay, at least.

That's as far as he intends for it to go. But then, while you're waiting on the check, he gets a text from an unknown number.

It's a video. Of you.

You doing some very lewd things to what looks like your ex-boyfriend. Blowing him in the bathroom of some club or a restaurant much dingier than this one. If that's where he's been taking you on dates, Gaz can understand why you broke up with him.

Enjoy my sloppy seconds, chud, says the accompanying smug text.

Gaz is also starting to understand why you lied to get your ex off your back.

"What is it?" you ask, seeing the look on Gaz's face as he stares down at his phone.

"Nothing," he says, putting his phone away as the waiter sets down the check. Gaz pushes his chair out and rises, trying his best not to show any emotion, but his words are a little too sharp. "Let's go.”

"Now?" you ask, surprised. "I thought you were going to--I thought we would get our story straight about the, um, the breakup."

"We can figure it out on the way."

"To where?”

"Your place."

...

[part 1] / part 2

more Gaz / masterlist tag

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DRAGON'S DOGMA 2 (2024)

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Headcanons of the 141 and their nagging injuries.

Price: Arthritis, primarily in his hands. Knobby knuckles and stiff fingers. They're bigger than they should be, and he's so calloused he can move the wood around in a fire without feeling the heat in his finger tips. Doesn't mean he doesn't like seeing them all slick and wet inside you, or cupped around your soft and delicate skin.

Ghost: His hips, by default of his stature alone, but some genetics too. He groans when he stands up. Whether you hear it or not. He lumbers when he walks, and he feels every step, but he doesn't complain. He thrusts like every motion doesn't cause him pain. He'd gladly push himself as far as he's able, just to see the pleasure on your face.

Gaz: His eyesight. He won't admit to needing help, but there's a glare in his peripheral that won't quit. A flash of light that can be distracting, it gives him a blindspot. You sneak up on him sometimes, and he flinches so subtly you don't even notice. But he instantly knows it's you, and he shows you how thankful he is. Every time.

Soap: His knee. He twisted it funny once when he was a lad, and his skipper told him to walk it off. It's never been right since, but he barely notices anymore. Whether he's hoisting furniture around your flat, squatting at the gym, or pummeling you against the wall, he'll bear all the weight, and then some, with a off hand joke, and a blissful grin.

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Okay but chubby chaser! Johnny...

Chubby chaser! Johnny who spots you from across the bar and knows you're the one.

Chubby chaser! Johnny who drinks in your curves, from your full breasts down to your pudgy tummy and wide hips.

Chubby chaser! Johnny whose pants get a little too tight just from the way your lips are moving as you talk to your friend.

Chubby chaser! Johnny who imagines you bent over with the jiggle of your ass as he thrusts into you.

Chubby chaser! Johnny who is dying to suckle at your breasts, knowing very well he can treat you just right.

Chubby chaser! Johnny who just has to muster up the courage to go and talk to a beauty such as yourself.

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TASK FORCE 141 | MODERN WARFARE III CAMPAIGN MENU