#captain john price reader

[velvet-paradox]

Invitation

Fandom: Call of Duty Pairing: Captain John Price x Vampire!Female reader (Birdie) Summary: Some things just aren't adding up to the captain but he soon finds out the reason and he is more than willing to help you ease you. Length: Long Warnings: 18 + ONLY, NSFW, readers discretion is advised, strong language, explicit content, reader gets hurt, blood mentions, blood drinking, fingering, oral (f & m receiving), swallowing, unprotected p in v (wrap before you tap), detailed smut.

ENJOY!!!

It's dark, almost too dark to see. The leaves of this humid jungle were massive and waxy and were very forgiving when used for covert operations. Like hiding from a parent in a department store rack, enough coverage to see out if you peeled back a layer or two. Pleasantly concealing.

Captain John Price whispered your call name, the others were already waiting against a thick trunk, not as bothered as the the Captain had huffed out role call. Soap gave a shrug and continued jabbing Gaz about some girl he met in town two nights prior. Price signaled with a gloved hand he was going to look for you, hopefully a stray hadn't gotten their hands or blade on you. 

The heavy leaves shielded his view, making the misty night dense as he squinted and said your name again. Only the nocturnal bug responded in kind. He huffed, that cigar he had waiting was calling his name like a lover in the night, he couldn't wait to get to it. Taste that sweet tobacco, bring it to life, breathe it in, have its' flavor on his lips-

He stopped suddenly at an unfamiliar and suspicious sound. 

Whatever the hell it was sounded garbled, a gag and slurp of sorts that if they weren't out here in the elements, Price would've guessed someone was getting fucked or sucked. A hard swallow smoothed over the darkness and he just make out a figure not far ahead, crouched in the fern brush.

"Birdie? Bird... how copy?" He asked in a hushed voice, careful if it wasn't you. "Birdie, that you girl?"

John stopped when saw you raise, cracking your neck and wiping your face. Your mask below your chin.

"Yes, sir. It's me."

"What are you doin'? You're holdin' up the team, wheels up in twenty. We still need to get a move on to the point."

"Sorry, sir. Just uh... gathering my strength," you licked your lips in the moonlight and pulled up your face mask, pitch black balaclava like the rest of the them. You swiveled your rifle in front of your body, holding it steady and fast. You paused as you looked up at your superior, eyes bright in your approach. "Won't happen again."

When you walked past a familiar sweet iron smell wafted after you. Price made a face and knew it was blood but... they'd captured who they needed. No one got hurt, the only shots fired were from your side. And that was a little more than concerning.

Price thought it was sweet how you made sure Ghost's seatbelt was right on the helo out, he chucked you under the chin with burning eyes before adjusting his balaclava. You two talked quietly on the ride, and you eventually succumbed to the missions extended time frame. Your head rested comfortably on Simon's shoulder. He always looked out for you, vouched your position and qualifications as if they were his own.

Sometimes Price wondered if there was a little bit more between the lieutenant and you. He recalled a late night, around a year ago that had his feathers up. He suddenly remembered where he had smelled that sickly bloody stench once before. ....

John stirred awake, light sleeper and all, he'd heard hushed tones in the hallway of a safehouse in Medellín . It was hot. He rolled over on to his back, scratching lightly at the curls of chest hair that splotched his skin. Dog tags jingly lightly.

"For fucks sake Bird, you're gonna get yourself caught." Ghost sounded exhausted, a lower rumble in his throat. A saturation of his usual tone made Price look over at the door, it was shut but he could see both of your boots just underneath the lopsided frame.

"No I won't. I've done this plenty of times, I know what I'm doing. I'm careful." You hissed back.

"Aye, careful huh? You're a bloody fucking mess. Go clean up and straight to bed with you." Simon commanded, he could just imagine the big man pointing one of those sausages he called fingers at your face, maybe poking your chest or shoulder. He sounded mad. And then a foreign hint of something sickly sweet slipped under the door like a ghost. "That's an order."

You gave a curt answer and then your feet were gone, leaving the L.t. to huff and grumble back to his room. ....

It would be good to go home for a spell, he thought. Get these images out of his head, leave them behind as the memories they'd morph into when he wasn't looking. 

You did that funky jerk thing as you were slipping further into sleep, completely spent and rightfully so. Price chuckled and shut his eyes. The whirling luring them to sleep. ....

"To the mission!" Gaz announced, surrounded by a hearty agreement of 'here, here!' at the back pool table. Price looked over his shoulder, rubbing one of his chin with his fingers. 

Birdie laughed as you all clinked your beer glasses, even Ghost had one. Full and intact of course. He'd probably sneak off somewhere in the corner soon and drain the thing.

He liked hearing you laugh. He liked to see his team happy and healthy and safe.

You lined up your stick, solids versus Soap's stripes. Best two out of three. You shut your eyes and had a ball in your sights, trying to show up and show out your teammates.

You took your shot and missed.

The ball hit too hard on the side, clipped one of your own and had somehow flew up in the air. Price stifled a chuckle until it landed in the palm, a rather fucking big glove covered palm with a gentle slap.

He blinked in disbelief.

And here Price thought Ghost was big. Another strong, silent type strolled in through a back door. Your ball looked like a toy in his hand. His face was covered with a clean sniper hood, covered head to toe in all black other than military issued khaki's.

"You need to be more careful, little bird."

You said a name he'd never heard before as he sipped his whiskey at the bar. He felt conflicted watching you pass off your stick to Gaz, he had the same look but was at least smiling at the giant stranger. You barely came up to the mans' chest when you hugged him, he towered over you and could actually set the ball down over your head.

He patted your head before you looked up and up and Price thought you might snap your god damn neck if you had to go any higher.

"You boys survived, yeah? Live to fight another day, as you say."

"Same goes to you, you big fuck." Soap shook his hand firmly with a nod.

"Got sliced," the big man shrugged and you looked nervous. "Don't worry, just another scratch on this ol' hide. You comin' with me, Birdie or what?" He asked as he cupped or rather covered your entire face. Price wanted to jump off this stool and proudly assert himself over in your little corner, bust up your circle but just drank the rest of his drink in one hasty gulp instead.

"Yeah. Of course."

"See you punks around, yeah?" This guys' accent was thicker then as he'd been the one pounding beers all night.

He bent down as if he was going to swoop you up in his arms bridal style but you jumped on his back instead, looping your arms around his neck as he stood like a fucking giraffe, your feet dangling a long ways away fromt the dive bar floor. You laughed as he waved at your teammates, carrying you out the front door, ducking down again as you both disappeared into the night. Your pleasant laughter and beaming face becoming as distant at John's buzz.

He ordered a double this time.

....

Burgundy was a beautiful landscape, neat and quiet. 

Captain Price looked through files on his laptop in the living room of a safe house, monitoring his team from there and making sure they'd have enough evidence before the next nightfall. He closed his eyes for just a moment of a reprieve, took a deep breath. Had just folded his hands on the tops of his knees, legs out spread and thankful for the serene crackle of a gas fireplace.

He sat back on the couch, the laptop next to him as he scrubbed his face, patting his shirt for the half cigar that would finish off his night.

A loud crash and clatter of the back door bounced off the walls, vibrating through the floor that woke the Captain up from an apparent nap he hadn't remembered taking. Growls and shouts of extreme pain joining the safehouse. Price had barely five seconds to register that the sounds were coming from you. Which was odd. Very odd. You'd been shot, stabbed and maimed without so much as grunt of discomfort versus what he was hearing now.

Ghost and Soap had you under the arms and thighs, heavy boots thundering through the kitchen.

"Get that shit outta' the way, man!"

"I'm trying here!"

Broken handmade ceramics and the rush of salt and sugar spilled to the floorboards. You whined again, tearing at your vest.

"Get them out! Get 'em out"

"Where are they? How many?"

"I don't fucking know, you think I stopped to ask?" You shouted, reaching for his face, his radio, anything within reach. "Johnny you gotta' help me!"

Your voice was strained and uncommonly desperate as he sat up, craning his head to make out what was happening.

"We're workin' fast here Bird, just stay with us, yeah?"

"The hells goin on in there?"

"Ambush, Cap. Birdie's been hit." Ghost voiced, his tone on the scary side which made him stumble when he got up from the couch. Everything was happening so quickly he couldn't get a grasp on the handle of the situation until you cried out again. Bile sloshed in his belly when he the state you were in up close.

"Not gonna' work, just take it off."

"Take what off?"

"My gear! Strip me down! Holy fuck this hurts."

"Get her boots and then-"

Price was startled by your urgency and grapple at Soap's arms. "Johnny I swear... jus-just leave 'em. If you don't get these god damn slugs out of me right fucking now I swear I'll rip out your eyeballs and fucking eat them!"

"Where's Gaz?" Price asked, jogging towards the bathroom for a med kit he noticed earlier that morning while brushing his teeth. He unlatched it and set it on the counter for future use.

"Patrol. He'll be in soon, sir." 

And as if on cue the other man appeared, out of breath and wild eyed as slammed the door shut behind him. Gaz panted and looked around the room. 

"Motherfucker that was close!"

"We good?" Soap asked without a second glance, chucking your vest to the side with a wet slump. He worked on your belt and pants while Ghost tore at your top and soaked undershirt. If someone unsuspecting were to come in and see this mess, more than just the authorities would be phoned.

"Affirmative. This is bad..." "Ya' think?" Ghost grunted as he rolled your body over, you whined and settled back. Your glove on his forearm tightening as you snarled out and swore.

You were in incredible pain, sobbing and punching the table below so hard it creaked. Ghost with his big ass hands had let the tweezers slip around the bullet lodged in your thigh. He apologized while Soap made note of where the next wound was. You should've been passed out at this point, Price thought watching his men work. Something was off. He thought he could a faint sizzle coming from you or around you at least. 

"Is that all of them?"

"There's one more. One more.... shoulder, left shoulder." You weakly pointed, you were growing tired and weak and Price was crossing his fingers and wishing on his lucky zippo, gripping it tight in his pocket, that you wouldn't bleed out and become a memory.

"Closest call to date." Gaz pointed. They worked in tandem, the bullets, shiny and wet with your warmth pinged over Ghosts shoulder and into the sink. Gaz gave your boot a little shake, letting you know you were safe and grounded now.

Captain Price frowned and looked about his company, how Birdie whined and just how they'd maneuvered around you. "I feel like you lot know something I don't. Care to inform me?"

"To be fair Captain-- it should probably come from her." Soap explained, wiping his hands on a bit of stripped gauze. 

They wrapped and taped your wounds, lifting you as they had when they'd come barrel assing in and now laid you down on the couch. Price had thrown down a blanket as if that would made the springs any less bouncy.

....

Gaz took it upon himself to go out on patrol once more, patting your cheek with a soft demeanor held for bunnies or babies... not for spec ops. Soap took first watch, setting up his little area in the recliner, a sigh of relief following shortly as you slept.

"Tea, sir?" Ghost asked from the kitchen, they left the items on the floor for now, in the case that you need a once over. Even though Captain John Price was as professional as they come, he was still a little jittery about seeing your bare legs, in your underwear and stained undershirt. He covered your decency quickly.

"Are you all like... together?" Price asked lowly, lighting half a stogie and taking his tea with a little too much milk.

"Together how, sir?"

"Together as in... an item? You and Birdie? Gaz and Birdie? All three of you and Bird?"

Simon chuckled lowly and crossed his arms and legs when he leaned against the counter. "Negative, sir. We're close but we're not that close. She knows us too well, wouldn't stand for half the shit we do to be her partner."

Ghost touched his shoulder when they finished talking, heading up the creaky stairs for a chance at some shut eye, a little nap maybe before his turn to watch over you and the house.

Captain Price stretched out on the recliner, his eyes shut, thick fingers laced other over his chest. He put his hat over his face a good twenty minutes ago in the hopes of relaxing but his mind wouldn't turn off. Wouldn't let the older man rest. To wound up, too wobbly in the mind to figure anything but the calm breaths he puffed through his hat.

"They were silver."

"Pardon?"

"Those slugs. They were silver." You rolled your head his way when he removed his hat with furrowed brows.

"I don't understand."

"Might be hard for you to believe Cap, but when I was younger I was a wild child."

"You?" The Captain joked, a smile on his face that reached up to his crows feet. "There was a time where I had three fake I.D.'s. Snuck out of the house, went to parties... a lot of parties. By the time I was 21 I could drink a grown man under the table, knock 'em back one by one. Then one night, I met my match," you mused with a tired smile. "Nothing seemed to slow this guy down, mixed light and dark, cocktails, on the rocks, neat. I could barely see straight. He was so big and so handsome though... then that night he turned me. I didn't even know what happened until it was too late."

That foreign guy maybe?

"Turned you? On or on to something?" Price asked, his crows feet creasing ever so slightly.

"More like in to something," you shrugged and waited for his brain to catch up, to process and extend a helping hand. When it didn't you cleared your throat. "I'm a vampire, sir."

"A vampire?"

"Yes, sir. No jokes. Soap found out first, a slinky runt of a drug runner got lost, almost blew our cover spot. Soap was my one on one, I had to shut him up quick and basic instinct was to tear out his throat with my teeth. So I did. Ghost caught Johnny trying to help dump a body, wondered why my face was busted and not his. I shouldn't have smiled in the dark like that. Exposed too much. Gaz just thinks its cool. Likes to poke pins in my hands."

"You're telling me you’re a... you hunt for sport? For fun?"

"Both. Though I haven't gone on a 'fun run' in a long time now that have a synthetic supplier back home. If I'm out in the field and in need of a snack then yes, I'll catch a threat meal but other than that... I don't leave messes."

"You're serious?"

"I can show you my fangs if you'd like, Captain."

John sat up in the recliner, slowly as he tried to process this odd bit of information. He touched his moustache, stroked his chin hairs and blinked over you. "Show me."

The room is spinning. The emotional rollercoaster Price has found himself on, sitting front and center, trekking and higher and higher until he was teetering at the top. You closed your eyes, looking rather peaceful which was a drastic contrast to how you'd been brought into the safehouse earlier. All John could do was stare at you. When you opened them again, there a cracking and shattering brilliant silver to your eyes, like polished dinnerware, before fogging into a beautiful opaque. You looked at him and he jerked, you took a deep breath of the room as your mouth began to open.

He briefly wondered if it hurt, your teeth extending like that. 

"Sir? Sir come on, wake up." Your voice called out to him, luring him back to the present like siren and when the bloody hell did he pass out?

You had rolled onto your belly on the couch, grabbing at the slack of his pants, rocking him in the recliner. He snorted and woke up, looking at you and taking your hand, pressing it further into his leg.

"Are you okay?" You asked, eyes back to normal now and questioning.

"Did that really just happen?" He asked.

You smiled sheepishly, fangs long gone now. "I'm afraid so, sir."

Price's eyes felt heavy again. "I thought you'd say that."

....

His phone is ringing, he thought it was fluke but then that phone rang. John stumbled out of his shower, barely enough time to cut off the water and snag a towel. He dug it out of his vest and mumbled into it, water a little bit of shampoo dripped onto the screen.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Sir we've got a problem." Simon said bluntly on the other end.

"Ghost! You put me down right now, you dirty troll!" He could hear you hollering and throwing a fit in the background.

"What the 'ell is going on?"

"I think it'd be better if you saw it person, Cap. She's gonna' hurt herself."

"No. I'm gonna' hurt you!" You shouted back and Simon gave out an annoyed grunt.

"Please hurry, sir. Birdie's place; asap."

The line dropped and John was left bamboozled, intrigued and wet.

He knocked on her front door, it was late and he didn't feel like risking a police call on Birdie's record. He knocked once more before he heard something break and a string of curses that belonged to Simon. He looked around in his civvy clothes, beanie on and Carhart jacket heavy on his still damp skin he took a chance and turned your doorknob. It was open.

He stepped into your living room, shocked by the disarray of it. He'd seen your place a few times since your housewarming two years ago but it looked nothing like this chaos. Books were knocked over, the shelf itself was tilted, your little coffee table that little plastic, singing raisins on it was on its side and they were nowhere to be found. A lamp without its' shade. 

There was a thump and a grunt from upstairs that found him climbing them, two at a time.

"Put me down you big oaf!"

"I'll bloody sit on you if I have to Bird, don't you tempt me. 've done it before woman, I'll do it again!" Ghost threatened. "Ya' ain't gonna' bite me."

"Come on... I just need... John!" You suddenly shouted and that's when he pushed open the nearest door, the random movement behind it alluring.

What he saw... he'd never forget.

You were upside down in Simon's arms, flailing like a prized fish on the line, eyes foggy and teeth sharp. Ghost actually seemed to be struggling to keep you away from any part of flesh you could reach. Most impressive.

"Thank fuck, Cap! She's a damn menace when she's like this." Ghost waddled towards him, your wriggling intensified.

"What kind of hold up is this then?" Price shook his head, the beanie on his head getting damper by the minute. He barely had time to dry off before hopping in his truck and flying over here. He may have ran a red light or two.

"König ain't back from his mission yet... she's goin' through a bit of a withdrawal. She just needs to tough it out, like a big girl, right? Or until the morning then we can get her someone to take the edge off."

"You mean something?" Price asked.

Simon shook his head. "No sir, I meant when I said."

Price gaped and helped to grab your arms, as if caught in a hammock they tossed you to your bed. If you weren't freaking the fuck out and grasping at anything that moved, Price had half a mind to think Ghost was going fuck you stupid. The way he climbed up on top of you, grabbing at your wrists and pressing them down hard into the bed while you kicked and snarled.

"Let me go!"

"No. She's got restraints under the bed, just pull 'em on out and get her feet first." He sat back on your legs.

Did he hear that right?

Price got down on his knees and sure enough, under the bedframe was a pair of what was probably some reinforced BDSM kit style cuffs. He undid them, wondering for a moment if these were ever used  for sex and not just for her blood withdrawals.

Ghost grunted she had a set for her wrists as well, fighting with the both of you to get them latched securely.

"I told you I'd sit on ya' Bird. You do good and listen when I talk will ya'?" Ghost huffed, as if the big man was out of breath. You gave him a run for his money.

Your opaque eyes drifted over to your captain then, halting him from doing anything else but stand stock still. The thick strap now limp in his hands.

You grinned.

"I can smell you. You had eggs this afternoon, soft and runny. Coffee black. Irish Spring. Intoxicating." You hummed and fluttered your eyes.

"Don't let her in, sir. She's not right."

"You masturbated this morning too," you chuckled and ground yourself into your bed. "Can feel it coming off on you."

"Knock it off, Bird. Just calm down." Ghost reprimanded you, an attempt to pry yourself from the facts. John swallowed hard and eyes the two of you, his skull mask in front of your nose. He didn't say anything, hell he didn't need too. You weren't lying.

"I'm desperate. Fuckin' Konig was supposed to be back..." you whimpered, biting into your own lip. Blood trickled and pooled at a corner.

"Well he's not so fuckin' cool it." Simon barked.

The captain secured your wrist finally and took a step back, hands in the pouch of his hoodie. Ghost pointed at you and told you stay put, don't try anything cute or you'd regret it.

"Will she be alright?" Price finally asked, he couldn't help but look at you whine on the bed. Clearly agitated and arching off the bed with unholy noises.

"She's been through worse, sir. She just needs a firm hand," Ghost shook his head at you. "She'll be fine, you might wanna' wipe her down with a cool rag though. She's burnin' like hell."

Ghost clapped his shoulder and stomped his way down stairs, he could hear Simon began to pick up.

"You need anythin' there, Bird?" Price felt like he wasn't talking to you, you were there, in spirit but this version of you was oddly feral and blood thirsty.

You rolled your eyes at him, the only chance you'd get to do that to your commanding officer without reprimand. "What do you think?"

"How about this?" John picked up the soaking washcloth in a bowl at the side of your bed, splashes of it on your rug from your struggle. You nodded frantically. He wiped your brow, glided it over your cheeks and dabbed at the corner of your mouth.

"Better?" He asked dragging it over your collar and started down one arm, you balled your fist.

"Be a lot better if I had something to eat." You grumbled, your pain subsiding for a moment. He didn't like to see of his crew in kind of duress if it could be helped, John kept wiping down your arm, unballing your fingers one by one.

"Your foreign buddy is your uh, your meal ticket?"

Your laugh was wet. "Oh no sir, he knows where to get the good stuff. Not that pasteurized bullshit they pass off as organic and straight from the source," you spat it out like sand between your teeth. "König knows what I need."

"And you need him."

"In a way. He is is my master, not my keeper. We'll always be tethered," his brows met as he processed it, a hard horse pill to swallow with a dry throat. "König made me, sir." You said, answering his mute question.

Your body tensed then, limbs pulling at your bonds. You whined again. You were in agony, twisting and losing focus, your milky eyes fluttering.

"What can I do, Birdie? Canne' I do anythin' to help you?" He was nothing but genuine.

You swallowed after your fit, wrists twitching when you opened them to look at him, sitting there on your bed, cloth in hand.

"Unless you got a stash of blood for me to drink, we're shit outta' luck."

"What about me?" Price asked, pausing because he didn't even think about it. He just didn't want to see you or hear you in any pain. For the half hour he was here with you and Ghost, your physical pain was more than he could take. 

He also didn't know what he was asking or saying for that matter.

"What about you?"

"Can you only, um can you only feed off of König or your pouches?"

"I would never ask that of you, captain."

"You're not the one askin' now are ya'? I am. Now answer me, Bird; could you feed off o' me? Would that help a bit?"

You blew out a breath. "Of course that would help me but... sir, I like you too much to ask."

"Again you're not askin'; I'm tellin'. And I like you a hell of a lot too in case you haven't noticed."

"I have noticed sir and that is exactly," you moaned in pain again, digging your head into your pillows. Price made a face. "I know you want to protect me but--"

"So how do we do this?" John tossed the rag back into the bowl and repositioned himself closer on your bed, he'd tossed his beanie and smoothed down his hair, he could feel splay out in random directions. "If you bite me will I become a vampire like you?"

"No. Not if you invite me in. I need to be invited," you breathed through your nose. "I can't go anywhere I'm not wanted."

"How do I invite you? Tell me Birdie."

"Sir--"

"That's an order, soldier. Don't make me pull rank on you. Now. Tell me."

You licked your lips and had him recite a few lines:

'I, John, invite thee to take no more, and no less; a high doubt you'd want this blade in your chest; for if you take what is more, I shall be your murderer; and your name will disappear to the remnants of lore'

"You don't have to do this, sir." Tears welled in your soft corners. "I've been through worse scenarios."

"I know. But I wan' to," he smiled down at you, your fangs glistened and made him just a sugar cubes' worth of nervousness. Again, he didn't exactly know what he was doing or how this would feel. Otherworldly business was not the mans' forte. "Are you like uh, traditional or typical 'bite your neck' type or..."

"I can," you breathed and rolled your shoulders, gesturing with your chin towards his bicep. "Soft spot between your elbow. 's a good spot, easy to conceal and the blood stops quick there."

John stood and pulled off the hoodie, tossing it towards his hat, a little pile of him growing in your space. He rolled and tucked the sleeve of his shirt and sat back down. "Which one?"

"I warn you Cap, it's not painless."

"I imagine not, Birdie but I'll have you know I 'ave been bitten before."

You sucked in air between your teeth like a ship takes on water, rushing and fast. He shivered when you answered him, not looking at his face but at his arm.

"Yeah, but not like this."

....

He wasn't sure what he was expecting as he situated himself over you, his arm at your full disposable. You looked at him, registering the gentle nod he gave as an invitation. You darted up against your restraints, clanging the metal D rings as you mouthed over a particular spot, your tongue hot and prodding for the perfect vein. You made a groan and then your teeth were against his soft skin, puncturing them deep.

His mind snapped like a downed wire, flickering and sputtering around on the ground, wondering where it all went wrong. Price felt your teeth bulge, exposing the fangs he'd seen for the first time a handful of weeks ago, katana sharp and angled for their purpose.

Prince winced and had to look away, your enthusiasm for drinking and drawing, sucking the literal life from him had his head fucking spinning. He could feel you pulling blood, swallowing greedily. When he did look again your eyes were shut, your lashes twitching as you drank from him. Words were stolen from his throat. You pulled off his arm with a wet smack and laid back, a drunken smile on your face, mouth stained red and dripping at the sides. The sight of your tongue slipping out to gather the remnants made Price shiver.

"Thank you sir." You happily mumbled over and over before sleep took over.

Price had just enough strength to stand, only to collapse on a chair next to your bed. He at least had the wherewithal to raise and put pressure to his arm. He felt dizzy and wished for a nice cold drink or a smoke. Maybe you two could share them...

John woke up late the next day he'd gathered, his neck was screaming when he sat up, head still a bit foggy. He blinked and looked at your bed; it was empty.

With a start he jolted to his feet, eyes frantic and wide awake now that you were missing, your cuffs a mess at the floor.

Just then the bedroom door opened and Ghost filled up the space. He scoffed with narrowing eyes.

"Couldn't help yourself aye, captain?" 

Price noticed your clothes in his hands, he moved about your room and tossed them into the hamper.

"Is everything alright? Where's Birdie?"

"Shower. She had quite the night it seems," he gestured with a gloved hand a circle about where his mouth would be, underneath his mask. "Much better mood, too. Bold of me to assume you had a helping in hand in that, sir?"

Price cleared his throat and bashfully for the burly man, hid his arm behind his back. "Very bold indeed, Simon. But nonetheless true."

Ghost nodded. "I'll leave you to finish her off then."

"Pardon?" Prince bristled.

"She'll need nourishment Price, get her some juice, some protein and she'll be right as rain. For now," Ghost pointed at the civvy clothed captain, a playful tone in his deep voice. "She's in your hands now pal, call if you need anything. I'm out, well due for a fucking nap."

Price was... conflicted. He was a fully grown ass man, could reel in and stabilize his actions, rationalize a situation on the fly and without course of the mission but watching you tear into that third piece of toast humbled him. You wore one of Simon's shirts, Riley spelt out below one of your breasts marked the size difference of where it would land on Simon's wide shoulder.

You scarfed down the yolk from an egg, washing it down with Ghost's suggested glass of juice.

He soon wondered how it would feel to see and place you in one of his. Seeing Price in standard print on your frame.

"Can you actually taste any o' that?" He asked and drank another cup of hot, black coffee. You splurged for the good stuff, not that cheap bitter mud they made in the cafeteria on base.

You stopped mid-bite. "Of course I can. Apple's taste like soot though for whatever reason," you shrugged and sopped up the rest of your eggs. "Cucumbers too."

John smiled.

"Sir I uh, I want to thank you again. You didn't have to sacrifice--"

"No sacrifice was needed, Bird. I'm happy to help."

You got up from the table and rinsed your plate clean, your little socks had cherries on them. You spun on the fuzz and crossed your ankles.

"Just the same, sir. I uh, I know how you feel about me," you started, your heated eye contact burned his face like the morning Mojave sun. "I could taste your affection last night. I know it's against regulation and you're my superior... I wouldn't want the guys' to think you'd given me any kind of special treatment and I wouldn't stand for it, for one."

Price followed along and set down his mug on the small island in your kitchen, pressing his hips into the wood. He smirked, the dimples hidden behind his chops deepened like quicksand. "And what makes you think I wouldn't push you harder rather than softer?"

You bit your lip at that, Price had never been jealous of teeth before now. He wanted to sink his own into that bottom lip of yours.

"You'd do that? Make it harder to breathe? Test and push my limits."

"Feel you out, you mean? Abso-fuckin'-loutely."

John kept his eyes on your face, a menagerie of expressions filtered over your face as you rounded the island, looking up at him innocently. As if you weren't a cryptid. As if you hadn't pierced his skin and drank his blood not even 24 hours ago, taken from him, tasted him as no one else had. 

Or would, again.

He felt like one of your treasured knick-knacks in your living room, one of your raisins, that you'd covet and hold dear. He swallowed hard when your hand touched his.

And then you kissed him. Seized him, rendered him useless with the clutch of his shirt. He pulled back, struck by your forcefield but lurched down once more, capturing both of your lips between his own in a searing, scorching kiss. You squeaked and held the arms that encircled you, pressed you close to his chest.

Fucking hell. You were close but not close enough, his large arms engulfed you, made you small and wanton as he licked his way into your mouth. John fisted the back of your baggy shirt, felt your ribs and hip as you kissed him back with the same longing.

"Captain..." you whined and he swallowed it up, pressing his lips to your cheek and chin, breathing hotly into your ear.

"Say my name Bird, fuckin' hell say it." He nipped your neck, trailing his mouth to the juncture of your shoulder, taking the collar of your shirt between his teeth.

"Price." 

Not good enough. He grabbed at you, forcing your front against the island, his hand loose but secure at the base of your throat. He lifted your head and pressed himself against your rear.

"John..."

"That's better." He mused and rolled his hips against you, dragging up the hem of your shirt but stopped momentarily. His expression dissipated into smoke.

You were completely bare beneath it.

Bloody hell.

Just a shirt and some cute socks separated him from you.

With a cheeky grin you looked over your shoulder. "Something wrong, sir?"

His eyes met yours, dark in the setting sun filtering through your kitchen window, masked by the sheer curtains. "Not in the slightest, darlin'."

John Price only got on his knees to pray, on special occasions or when things were in dire straights but that gorgeous look on your face had him pinching the backs your thighs all the way down. Had to be sure he wasn't dreaming. You stepped apart, jolting where his facial hair scratched and tickled your back.

He worshipped you, praised and thanked everything that you were real. Under his hands, under his mouth. A taste he'd never forget. Like eating Pişmaniye on the Turkish coast last summer. Fucking delectable. You arched, pushing back on his fingertips once they joined the Captain's party.

He hummed against your pussy, taking his time in laving against your entrance, chuckling when he pressed the tips inside you. Your nails scratched the surface of the island.

Your breath came out in little huffs and puffs as he twisted his fingers. All he had to do was angle his head just so, capture your bundle of nerves through split wet lips and--

"Christ Johnny!" You slammed your hand against the wood, he smiled and suckled harder. Beaming against your clit, tucking the hood of it between his lips as your free hand held the back of his head to where you wanted him most.

"Ya' really juiced up at that aye Birdie? You must really like my mouth and hands on you huh, girly?"

Your low groan was the answer he was hoping for.

He popped up soon after, gripping your face, turning it to his liking and kissed you fast and deep. The angle was broken but you licked back into his mouth so easily. His spit mixing with your arousal had you limp in his hot hands. Price didn't, no he couldn't, waste any more time and tore at the strings of his sweats, letting them fall to his feet. 

The first press of his crown against your hole had you completely flat and splayed out against the island, fingers of yours gripping the overhang. At the quiet pop of it you begged to see it, to feel it, to have him envelope you and who was Price to deny you fucking anything at this point.

You sang for him like the little bird you were, pushing back when he thrusted in deep. Price fit his forearm between you and the wood, protecting your hip as his heavy hand cupped your sex, fingers pressed against your mound.

"Feels good doesn't, love bug? God you taste absolutely divine." John bit into your shoulder, making you shudder and shake beneath him.

He couldn't help but cage himself around you, lifting you just enough so your feet dangled above the kitchen floor, knocking against the the island with each thrust. He shocked himself, his plump mouth hanging open as you squeezed and another flood of complete arousal swarmed around his thick cock. He pinched you again. "Incredible. It's so fucking tight, Johnny." You whined and held on, letting him override your body.

The grip on your shirt, fisting the fabric to your shoulder blades, over your head and pressing down he moved his palm to cover your mouth. As if that would stifle the obscene shouts of pleasure from alerting your neighbors.

You bit down on the webbing between his thumb. That hum that vibrated up his limbs and down his spine let him know there was at least a little bit of blood involved.

"Jesus woman, you plan on endin' me right her an' now or what?"

Your response was muffled for a bit until you let him go.

"Wanna' repeat that, Bird?"

"I said-- fuck yeah-- I said I'll take you down with me."

"Oh really? You want somethin' pretty thing? All's ya' gotta' do is ask."

"Want you to cum," you whimpered when he bent low, cradling you in his hands, rubbing your clit in lazy fucking, slow circles. He groaned when he felt you clench around his cock. "I-- I can't wait I-- oh yeah, Johnny!" You sobbed as you flooded around him, soaking his girth.

Price chomped out your name, throbbing inside you, letting you ride it out and without warning you pushed him off. His thick brows knitting as you were the one now to drop to your knees, shaky at best you nipped one of this thighs and opened that beautiful mouth, tongue out and waiting. You only got the opportunity to take him in your mouth just the once, a gleam in your eye as you tasted everything. 

"Fuckin' hell, Bird." He grunted and fisted himself to completion, holding himself back before painting your mouth and teeth. You licked away his load, showing it to him like a prize before swallowing. You were panting for more as you stood wobbly, giddy with bliss. Price cupped your face, boring his eyes into your own blown out pupils.

"We taste too damn good, Bird. You are heaven sent." He pressed his scratchy face against yours.

"And don't you dare forget it." You laughed and all Price could do was capture your lips in a searing kiss, a promise of more than just tonight.

Tagging: @synnersaint @charnelhouse @yeyinde <-- you have lead me down this road and I'm not going alone!  

[empresskylo]

ghost knows he’s too rough and impatient with sex. knows he won’t know how to please you properly. knows he can’t possibly do things right with you, knowing you’ve never done this before. but god, he wants to. he wants to treat you how you deserve. never thought he’d be so desperate to fuck someone good and slow like he does with you.

so he goes to price. the one man who will know all the right ways to please a lady properly. asks him to show him how to take care of you. tells him he doesn't know how to care for someone else's needs, at least with someone inexperienced like you. tells him he needs to be instructed. to see just how he should work you.

you’re nervous at first, thinking it’s an absolutely insane idea, but you can’t hide the wetness along your panties as you sit on ghost’s lap, back pressed against his chest, legs spread, his knuckle dragging down your warmth. price sits back in his chair, telling ghost exactly how to move his fingers, paying close attention to your body's minuscule movements, the way your brows furrow when ghost moves a certain way, or your eyelashes fluttering.

and this was supposed to be a strictly hands-off approach… but god, watching ghost fumble, unable to maintain the slow speed you need, keeping you from reaching your orgasm, has price on edge. he leans forward, rolling his chair with him, and tells ghost to stop. tells him to watch and to pay close attention. price tears your panties off and your eyes go wide at the contact. you swallow, expecting ghost to be furious, but his hands only settle around you and he takes notes as he watches his captain work.

price runs his thumb up your slit, circling your nub, and tells ghost to hold your thighs apart when you unconsciously try to clench them. then his finger is sinking into you and your head falls back against ghost's chest, eyes shut. you moan and you feel ghost harden beneath you. “how’s that feel, sweetheart?” price asks you. you babble out incoherently, price adding a second finger, and chuckling darkly at your response.

it becomes too much, his fingers thrusting in and out of you, his other hand rubbing your clit, ghost's fingers digging into the softness of your thighs as he forces them apart. “ohmygod,” you slur, “m’gonna—“ price smirks, his eyes darkening as he watches you orgasm, your body clenching around his fingers shoved deep in your heat. "talk her through it," price tells ghost. so ghost does. you're shaking still and ghost rubs his hands over your exposed skin. "that's it, baby. you're doin' s'good," he praises.

"whata fuckin' sight," price mumbles to himself, his fingers leaving you empty. you steady your breathing, coming down from your high, completely limp in ghost's arms. price can see the way ghost's eyes have gone dark, his pupils swallowing his irises whole. knows ghost doesn't know how to be soft. sees the feral need to ram himself into you overtaking his features. "gonna take it slow with her, yeah?" price asks.

ghost breathes rapidly out, his hips begging to buck up against you. he knows he wouldn't be able to control himself if you let him fuck you. so he answers honestly. "not sure I'd be able to."

price tsks, sitting back in thought, his eyes roving over your spent body. you suddenly feel shy, wanting to close your legs, but ghost's arms tighten on you. "need me t'break her in?" price finally asks after several long beats of silence.

ghost grinds up against you, his hand sliding into your hair and pulling your head to the side so he can kiss your neck. your eyes flutter at his attempts to be so delicate with you. "want the captain here to be your first time, love?" ghost asks against your skin. you stutter when you answer. "don't you want to be?" "course I do. but I won't go easy on ya. I'd hate to ruin you, sweet girl. price will take it nice n' slow. just like you need." and after, you'll be ready to take ghost. ready to adjust to his size.

you swallow hard, ghost's hands escaping and clawing at your clothed chest. you nod. "o-okay."

price stands from his chair and begins to undo his belt. "come sit on my desk, sweetheart."

cod masterlist

[deunmiu-dessie]

𐙚₊˚⊹♡ 23 c.o.d men rambles with nsfw visuals (p-links) ♡

featuring!— kyle ‘gaz’ garrick, johnny ‘soap’ mactavish, simon ‘ghost’ riley, john ‘captain’ price, phillip graves, könig, vladimir makarov! ♡

₁ 𐙚 imagine fucking john doggy style, and he’s jus’ so horny for you so you guys don't even make it to the bed :( he tosses you onto the couch and lifts your ass into the air, his thick, meaty cock bruising your insides. then he grips your hair and bends you back to slant his lips over yours in a messy kiss 😖

₂ 𐙚 having a sloppy make-out session with gaz when he gets back from a mission. sucking on his tongue and whimpering into his mouth while his big hands run up and down your thighs and ass. gaz always gets you so needy and wet before he dicks you down, having tears streaming down your face and thighs trembling :((

₃ 𐙚 soap fucking his cum back into your swollen pussy while whining and whimpering, promising to get you pregnant; thick and hard at the thought of you round with his kids. he pumps your pussy to the brim with his cum that night, til it drips down your thighs.

₄ 𐙚 gaz loves to record the two of you having sex, and loves to send it to the 141 group chat. loves to show off his pretty girl whose pussy takes his big cock so well :( loves to show them how well you moan and beg, loves to show them your fucked out face, loves the way the team goes feral as you moan their names with bleary eyes and drool spilling down your chin. loves to show them that regardless, you're his.

₅ 𐙚 simon using your pussy as a cumdump... literally, when you act like a brat. he'll have you lay naked across the bed, hand fisting his cock as gazes at your tits, your needy cunt drooling and clenching. he'll watch as you cry and beg for him to fuck you, your wrists bound together and tied to the headboard. then he'll press his thick tip into your pussy and spill himself inside. brats don't get to cum, as he likes to say— sorry :(

₆ 𐙚 kyle 'will overstimulate you while pussydrunk' garrick. baby gaz just loves the taste of your pussy, especially after going so long without it :( you're so warm and sweet, needy and sobbing-- and he's missed the feel of your thick thighs wrapped around his head, missed the feeling of your hands running through his hair. so, just let him enjoy his meal.

₇ 𐙚 needy soap who swears he'll just rock against your panties, his thick cock nudging your fattened clit which presses eagerly against the pre-cum soaked fabric. soap who moves your panties to the side and shushes you with a kiss to your lips, swearing he'll just thrust against you; thumb brushing against your bundle of nerves. soap who loses himself in the moment, gripping your thighs and looking at you with pleading eyes, swearing he'll only use the tip, thick, bulbous head already stretching your pussy. 🥺

₈ 𐙚 after you had the baby, john can't stop thinking about seeing you swollen and round again, with your breasts heavy, and thighs thick. john who breeds your pussy at any moment he can. whether it be with you bent over the counter and cooking dinner, with you sleep; your pussy warm and welcoming, or even in the shower, your milk-heavy tits pressed against the shower door. ( bonus )

₉ 𐙚 makarov who finally gives in to your pleading demands, his hands rough as he forces you onto the bed, yanking down your skirt and pulling your panties to the side. his gaze is cold and calculating, even a bit annoyed. makarov who snatches the loli from your mouth, running it up your slick pussy before pushing it in. "Это то, что вы хотели, да?"

₁₀ 𐙚 he makes sure to fuck you well before he leaves on a mission, his thick cock bullying your slick cunt full of his cum. gaz makes sure you know who your pussy belongs to, makes sure he has your thighs trembling in his arms as he fucks you against the shower wall.

₁₁ 𐙚 simon loves to watch you ride him, loves to have your tits in his face, taking one of your sensitive nipples into his mouth. loves to hear you whine that your cumming for the fifth time, loves to watch as his abdomen becomes sticky with your creamy cum. loves watching your lips tremble and your eyes water as he thrusts sharply into you, knocking on your cervix and bruising it.

₁₂ 𐙚 having sex with gaz always overstimulates you in every sense of the word and not just with your body. gaz loves to watch you fall apart on his cock, loves to grab your chin and keep your eyes locked with his, loves to watch your gaze get bleary and your mouth struggle to form words all while his hand moves in quick figure eights on your clit, cock spearing through you deliciously. gaz will press kisses to your swollen lips, groaning into your mouth. "on me, luv. le' me see those gorgeous eyes."

₁₃ 𐙚 price loves to suck on your tits, while his cock slowly pumps in and out of you. loves to bury his face into the valley, placing kisses and sucking hickies. john price sucks on your nipples like a man starved, thick hands squeezing and kneading :(

₁₄ 𐙚 imagine getting punished by boyfriend graves because you fucked up during a mission, the objective getting away. he tells everyone to leave the room, glaring eyes stuck on yours. graves who orders you to strip, pushing you down against a busted couch, yanking down your combat pants, and tearing your panties. graves who angrily unzips himself, as you blubber and plead, pussy leaking and ready. he watches as your pussy struggles to take his cock, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you apologize repeatedly. "don't want to fucking hear it, sergeant."

₁₅ 𐙚 gaz fucking you into the bed after he gets home from a mission gone awry. soft lover gaz who just can't be his usual giving self. gaz who takes what he needs from you, regardless of the tears that stream down our face.

₁₆ 𐙚 könig, all needy can't help but fuck your thighs, whimpering and whining :(

₁₇ 𐙚 having a threesome with soap and gaz; who can't help but record as soap practically makes love to you with his eyes. gaz who could care less as you forget all about his cock, breathing heavily as he watches as your pussy struggles to swallow soap's cock. gaz who sends the video to the 141 group chat.

₁₈ 𐙚 imagine makarov sharing your pussy with yuri as a reward to the man. makarov who guides your mouth over his cock, all while sipping on his alcohol; yuri fucking into your pussy needily, grunting and groaning as you squeeze around him.

₁₉ 𐙚 100 percent believe this is how gaz and soap eat you out, prove me wrong. i'll wait. ( bonus: since soap made you cum first, you granted his wish. )

₂₀ 𐙚 john overstimulating you while whispering how much of a good girl you are, slapping at your thighs when you cringe away from him, his thick fingers finding your clit again. john who fucks into ravenously, cooing as you shudder and buck against him.

₂₁ 𐙚 graves finally puts your smart mouth to work, shoving his thick length down your throat. graves angrily saying your pussy isn't good enough for his cock. his words, not mine.

₂₂ 𐙚 angry sex with toxic gaz, who swears no one will ever fuck you as good as he will. who tells you that you belong to him, that you were made for each other, that you won't leave him. who fucks you dumb until you promise to stay.

₂₃ 𐙚 soap swears he won't cum inside you...

spent hours scrolling through twitter porn, help me.😔

[chamomiletealeaf]

Being so sensitive to squirting that the 141 make fun of your for it and have little competitions to see who can make you squirt the fastest :(

Johnny holds the record of 37 seconds from fingering you so fast you couldn’t tell when his fingers were inside or out of you.

After their little competition your poor pussy was so swollen and sensitive that all it took was a few rough spanks to your pussy from Price to make you squirt again.

“Oh well look at that? Seems we got a new record holder hm?” Price teases you and Johnny.

“That doesn’t count the competition is over!” Johnny exclaims angrily at Price.

Meanwhile Simon and Gaz are fucking rock hard from watching you squirt again so quickly.

[bagofshinyrocks]

Government name vs Military callsign

Prompt: What scares them worse? Addressing them by their full government name, or addressing them by their military callsign?

Featuring: Task Force 141 (CoD: MW2) - John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish (separately) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 0.9k

Warnings: none

John Price

Government name.

Calling him Captain or Skipper just ends with him sauntering to where ever you are and ask (in an obnoxiously self-satisfied voice) what you wanted. Like a cat pretending it can’t hear the urgency in your tone when you say to get off the counter.

“If you want me to ‘shake a leg’, call my name, luvie.”

Now if you holler “Jonathan Price”, he’ll drop something. Either the newspaper in his hands, or his heart into his stomach. He sure as hell moves his ass with a purpose, and he’s peering into the room with an apology on his lips.

“Yes, luv? What’s wrong, poppet?”

“Lift the other end of the couch, would you?”

He does, and you shimmy it further back in the room. “Anything else I can do, love o’ my life?” He’s hovering, and gently coaxing you into his arms. Gauging how mad you were at him. You curled into him and kissed his chin. Then stepped away with a pat to his chest.

“No, sweetheart, just wanted you to shake a leg is all.”

When he remembers your previous conversation, he groans and tells you to fuck off.

Simon Riley

Military callsign.

When you two are alone, and he’s already given you permission to call him Simon, don’t call him Ghost. When you say that word, he assumes one of his mates are at the door or on the phone, and goes from Simon to Ghost. Stalks into the room with narrowed eyes, only to find you in the kitchen. By yourself.

“Ghost, you want a sandwich too? Turkey and cheese.”

“Fuck you callin’ me that for?” 

Once he sees you’re alone, he swoops in and wraps around you like a hoodie. A firm kiss to your ear, then your cheek, then spun you around. Back pressed to the counter top. Settles his face right close to yours.

“We playin’ games now?” You didn’t want to upset him, so you pressed a kiss to his nose. His grumpy look faded a bit.

“Sorry, baby.” Arms wrapped carefully around his shoulders. And your fingers scratch his scalp. Another kiss to his nose. “I’m sorry for playing games with you. Simon Riley.”

Hearing his name on your lips finally cracked, and he gave you a smile. A little scar on the upper lip. You gave it a kiss, and then pressed a kiss to his lips. 

A quick surge forward, and you only just had time to shove aside the things behind you before you found yourself on the countertop.

Kyle Garrick

Government name.

He doesn’t mind being called Gaz, and you’ll use Kyle and Gaz interchangeably. Doesn’t even mind if you use “Kyle” or “honey” in front of his squadmates. Though “Kylie” he does have some displeasure with.

“I’ll have you know, Soap is still calling me Kylie, you asshole.”

Call him ‘Garrick’, and he knows that you are pretending to be mad at him. He slinks over and rubs his face against your cheek. He’s too cute for you to stay mad.

If you shout “Kyle Garrick”, he comes running. He could have sworn that he put his clothes in the hamper. And did the dishes. And taken out the recycling. Damn, what was it that he forgot?

“Kyle Ga-”

“Yes, dear!” Shit, he didn’t mean to ‘yes, dear’ you. “Yes, my dear, I’m right here.”

You pause your laundry folding and summon him with a crook of your finger. Once he’s close enough, you tap your lip with the same finger. “I need a kiss.”

He blinked once. Then twice. “God damn you.” He squishes your face in his hands and gave you a quick, firm kiss. “Don’t stress me out like that. Thought you were mad.”

“Give me another kiss, or I will be.”

He rapid fire kissed your mouth, chin, and cheeks, then gave you a smack on the ass before returning to the living room. 

“In my own fucking home,” he muttered.

John MacTavish

Military callsign.

He’s got some thick skin. And he’s had his name shouted angrily many a time. He would all but skip into the room with a big smile on his face. The only people who shouted that name (and wore out the scare-factor on it) were his family members. Shouting “John MacTavish” meant you loved him. You were also mad at him, but you loved him. That was more important. Even with your scowl and the gross pile of garbage he kept forgetting to take out. You loved him.

Now shouting his callsign reminded him of his superior officers.

“SOAP!”

Shit shit shit. He put down his beer and ran from the garage to the backyard. Leg brace over his sweats, low cut muscle shirt that you also wolf-whistle at when he wears. You were only weeding the garden boxes.

“JOHNNY!”

“I’m here, bonnie,” he hollered, rounding the corner. You were sitting in the dirt, a tidy pile of weeds and dead plant bits next to you.

“C’mere, c’mere.”

He leaned down next to you, hand on your shoulder and good knee on the ground. “Wassit?”

You pointed to the leaf in your hand. “A caterpillar, Johnny. An itsy-bitsy caterpillar.”

He sighed heavily and kissed your shoulder. “Bonnie, I thought something was wrong.”

“Hm?” You spared him a glance. “What are you talking about, bubba?”

“You called me Soap.”

“Did I? Didn’t mean to spook you, loverboy.” You gave him an apologetic kiss on the lips. “Just wanted you to see the caterpillar before he wiggled off.”

Posted: 2023 Dec 10

[buttdumplin]

yeah simon is the one to scare people away when they get too close you, using his size and movement to intimidate, simultaneously shielding you behind him

yeah soap is the one barking loud, creating a spectacle and calling people out, and warning them away

yeah kyle is the one humiliating people, mocking offenders until either their own actions dawn on them or they finally recognize the venom in his eyes

but price is the one that launches into swinging. there is no warning, no hesitation. taking a step, even a single word against you, warrants immediate action in his mind. it's no laughing fucking matter. you are a top fucking prize, his prize, the best the world has to offer. john is rabid in his protection, bearing tooth and boot and claw and fist. there’s no point in talking to him or trying to negotiate, an offense is an offense and he won’t meet it halfway. someone looks at you the wrong way? they won't be able to see out of swollen eyes after headbutts them, crushing their nose. someone whispers something nasty about you? good luck even eating with that jaw wired shut. god forbid someone touches you, the other three boys can barely hold him back. john will break countless bones in every way he knows and beat his knuckles bloody if your smile starts to drop. 

[swordsandholly]

Been thinking about the 141 boys coming to visit your southern family…

Price ends up out back with your papaw and uncles staring at a riding mower that they haven’t been able to get back up and working. Beer in hand, hip cocked, mimicking their ‘uh-uh’s and ‘yep’s. He tries to help with grilling but your dad won’t let him anywhere near it because “damn brits can’t cook out to save their lives. I’ve seen what y’all eat.”

Ghost gets a little overwhelmed by the women fussing over him. He’s on his third plate of food and your mimi is still loading him up with more mac n cheese because “He’s just such a big boy - he really needs to fill up! Are you sure you’re feeding him enough?” Luckily Simon is a literal human vacuum - a total garbage disposal. He drinks about a pitcher of sweet tea by himself because you can’t tell me that man doesn’t have a deadly sweet tooth. You have to drive home after the food coma they put him in.

Gaz is the decided favorite son-in-law (never mind that you aren’t married yet.) He’s just so polite, happily helping wherever needed. Quick witted and more than prepared to participate in the small town gossip. Giving genuine, dramatic gasps at the news that the preachers son of your family’s rival church took a trip (went to prison). It just makes sense that boy always had a screw loose, after all. He picks up on the cooking easily enough, asking your mom for all her recipes to make both you and her a lovely custom cook book of family recipes.

Soap goes absolutely hog wild on the four wheelers with your cousins. Regaling the younger ones with stories of his ‘adventures’ (pranks on the other 141 members.) He picks up some of your slang for the fun of it. After all, sigogglin’ just works with a Scottish accent so well. Unfortunately he can’t handle the jalapeño corn bread - it’s just too spicy for the poor boy.

[grabattheseballsss]

COD P★ LINKS

Yawll……dis is horny… so like fair warning

John price

Price tying you up after he catches you disobeying him by touching yourself :(

Overstimulation with John <3

Price eating you out after a loooooong mission

More price eating pussy (the guy LITERALLY looks like him or am I tripping)

Since you like using them so much, this shouldn’t be a punishment for you, correct ?

John getting you to ride his thigh

Theres a reason why they’re his favourite

Kyle Garrick

Gaz after ruthlessly fucking you for three hours ;3

What you get for flaunting yourself in front of his mates :(

Lazy night in with gaz

Shhh don’t want anyone to hear you

Late night humping with your clingy boyfriend

Roommate! Gaz getting tired of your horny whining

Simon Riley

Just a quick reminder of where you belong

Quick polishing’

A goodbye gift

A welcome home gift

Roommate! Ghost pounding you till you wake up :(

Owner! Ghost with his lil pup

Little film for later

Gettin’ crafty

John McTavish

Riding him until he’s dumb <3

Mornin sex with Johnny boy

Self restrain

Virgin! Johnny

Just his doll

Convincing your friend, Johnny to join your live 🫣

König

Hes just too big you needed a photo for confirmation

Need your colonel to reach you a lesson?

Just a quickie before he leaves for work

Quickie part 2

Good girls beg

[thebookbutterfly]

fanfiction isn’t enough, I need to chew on him

[ang3licsins]

thinking about olderbf!simon coming back home after a long and tiring mission just to pull you into his lap and say “i missed ya today, darlin’.. ‘m, needa hold ya. cap’n told me ya texted, askin’ when i’d be home..” because under that cold and rough exterior, is a man, that is human with FEELINGS. :(🖤

[empresskylo]

price getting hurt on a mission and you have to help bandage him up as he tries not to lose consciousness. he gets so loopy from the blood loss he starts to expose his inner thoughts, calling you pretty and how often he thinks about you. “mmm y’smell s’good, love,” he mumbles aimlessly, slurring his words slightly. his fingers running through your hair as you work on his bullet wound, his voice barely a whisper “fuckin’ torturing me.” and you’re not sure if he means because you're hurting him physically or something else entirely.

[konigsblog]

P!LINK COD MWII MASTERLIST (🌽)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. STRICTLY 18+. ALL MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED.

BEWARE: DARKER THEMES BELOW.

PHOTO CREDIT: GLUTT_R ON 🐦/X

KÖNIG

somnophilia with pervert!könig

taking kidnapper!könig for the first time

size difference with petite!reader and könig

“just the tip, könig.” with loser!könig

loser!könig who loses control (breeding kink)

being groped by kidnapper!könig (hole inspection)

forced breeding with pervert!könig

hope inspection with older boyfriend!könig

virginity loss with könig (virgin!reader)

letting virgin!könig use your body (virginity loss)

raped and recorded by könig

entertainment for kidnapper!könig (non-con)

raped in public by rapist!könig

incel!könig making porn for his online girlfriend

SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY

punishments with brat!reader and simon riley (brat taming)

relaxing simon riley with your pussy

‘obedience’ with simon riley

stepbrother!simon riley and his best friends

humping your stepfather's bulge

car sex with stepbro!simon riley

rough dom!simon riley and his fuck doll

being manhandled by your stepbrother

raped by kidnapper!simon

being filled by simon riley (breeding kink)

hole inspection with simon riley

cock worship with older boyfriend!simon

rough dom!simon x brat!reader (brat taming)

punishments with stepfather!simon

having your attitude fixed by your lieutenant

semi-clothed sex with pervert!simon

raped for intel by lieutenant!simon

JOHN ‘SOAP’ MACTAVISH

pervert!soap x milf!reader (morning sex)

“just the tip, i promise.” with stepbro!soap

your needy stepbro attempting to distract you

rough dom!stepbro!soap punishing you

playful!stepbro!soap and his virgin stepsister virginity loss

stepbro!soap eating you out

cuddling fucking with stepbro!soap

drunken sex with loser!soap

“fuck, don’t stop, bonnie...” handjobs with soap

being fingered by stepbro!soap

mutual masturbation with soap

stepson!soap with stepmom!reader

KYLE ‘GAZ’ GARRICK

shower sex with pervert!gaz

the type of videos gym bro!gaz sends you

riding gaz in your new lingerie

the result of getting high with stepbro!gaz

having your insides rearranged by gaz

riding gaz for the first time

“don’t pull out!” with pervert!gaz

sucking off gaz for the first time (inexperienced!reader)

letting virgin!gaz play with your cunt while you're high

treating soft!gaz to a handjob after his deployment

virgin!reader fucking themselves back on gaz

CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE

being eaten out by john price (1)

being eaten out by john price (2)

morning sex with older boyfriend!price

spit play with older boyfriend!price

morning sex with sugar daddy!price

being eaten out by sugar daddy!price

manhandled by price

making out with price

stepdad!price and his slutty, daft stepdaughter

[criminalamnesia]

Simon x Reader whose already work with TF 141 for a pretty long time. And one day, there's a traitor around the base, leaking their information. All of the proof are leading to reader but reader always deny it! And they interrogated reader, and reader always deny it! And he's (with other 141 members, of course, but it mostly him) do their torture methods to get information out of reader. They keep doing it until someday, the real traitor finally captured!

And make the reader traumatized, pls. Like, she would have trust issues, trauma, and others. She wouldn't forgive them, tho.

ooooo the angst. had to sit on this one for a few days before I wrote something, but here goes nothing.

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

when you blink open your eyes, the room is dimly lit. it’s silent save for the sounds of your labored breathing.

you must’ve passed out. one second johnny— a man you’d known for years—was slicing into your skin with a knife. the next, you’re staring into an empty room.

your hands jerk up involuntarily. still bound. the rope holding them to the arms of the chair have rubbed them raw. the skin is bright red and bloody. it makes you grit your teeth.

you look down at your lap, taking inventory of the parts of your body you can see. large gashes break up the fabric of your tac pants. the blood surrounding the deep wounds is dry and crusty.

one of the cuts looks like it’s getting infected. you swear you can see bone.

you’d taken this kind of suffering before. been capture by enemies, held and tortured and pushed to the brink of death. this was different. this was being done by your team. men you’d bled with. cried with. laughed with.

one you’d even slept with. the same one you loved. the one you called yours.

the door to the room swung open, hitting the wall with a metal thud. your head slowly lifts, eyes squinting to see him. by his stature, you know it’s simon.

he doesn’t bother shutting the door behind him. instead, he walks towards you slowly. as he comes closer, can make out his eyes in the sea of dark paint he smears around them. the same paint you’d helped him apply a time or two.

“back for more?” you say, and it’s meant to sound sarcastic, but all it sounds like is pitiful. your voice cracks, and pain seeps into your tone.

the first rule they’d taught you about scenarios like this was to never let the enemy know it’s working. never let them know that they’re hurting you— that they’re slowly wearing down your defenses.

well, you’d just broken that rule, and you hadn’t even meant to.

you didn’t know how long you’d been tied up, subjected to torture by men you had once called your family. all because a fucking liar whispered your name into their ears. all because they fucking believed it.

apparently the years meant nothing to them. to him, least of all, considering he’d done more damage to you than the rest of them.

simon comes to a stop in front of you. his hands are empty by his sides, but that’s not reassuring. there’s a table full of weapons off to the side. he would have his pick of the litter.

“ready to talk yet?” he says, and his voice is gruff. his tone is hollow. he’s speaking to you the same way he’d spoken to countless enemies. it makes you sick.

“fuck you, simon,” you spit out.

the betrayal of john, gaz, and johnny had hurt. but simon’s betrayal? that was enough to almost put you in the ground.

you’d stopped pleading with them the second they tied you to the chair. now, you were angry. furious. rage filled your veins, and if you weren’t beaten to all hell, you’d find a way out of these fucking restraints and strangle the man in front of you to death.

the man you loved. you’d thought you meant something to him, but apparently not— because who tortures someone they love?

“if you talk,” he ignores your outburst. “it’ll be easier. quick.”

“fuck. you.” you enunciate the words, your jaw impossibly tight as you grit your teeth. “im not the fucking rat.”

“all the evidence,” he starts as he disappears from your vision. you know he’s going to pick his weapon of the hour. you force yourself not to shudder.

“points to you.”

“take that bullshit evidence and shove it up your ass, riley,” you seethe, ropes pulling taut as you lean forward in the chair.

he’s back in your line of sight now, brandishing a large knife.

“you’re only making it harder on yourself, love,” he tuts, and then he’s swinging the knife down, right onto one of your fingers.

you scream as the blade cuts right through skin and bone. your teeth dig into your lip, drawing blood as you refuse to give him more of a reaction. it fucking hurts, but you’ll be damned if you let yourself cry.

“feel like talking now?” he asks, watching as half of your left pinky finger falls to the floor.

“or should we take off another?”

you look up at him, hoping he can see the hatred in your eyes as you speak your next words. “you could take the fucking hand off and I’d still have nothing to tell you.”

“let’s see how true that is then, eh?” he replies, and raises the knife again. he’s about to swing, when someone comes running into the room.

“ghost!”

it’s johnny. he’s obviously winded as he stops beside simon, dropping his hands to his knees as he struggles for breath.

“what, mactavish? im busy.”

“they’re—” he gasps. “they’re not— the— rat.” he says between breaths.

the room goes impossibly still. so quiet you swear you could hear the men’s heartbeats (or maybe that pounding in your ears was your own).

“you sure?” simon’s voice is softer as he lowers the knife and turns to johnny. the younger man nods, his eyes trained on you. you can see the regret in them, the sorrow.

“it’s fucking shepard.”

it’s not funny, but at the news, you burst into laughter. the men stare at you in confusion, but you can’t stop.

you’re laughing so hard you’re crying, and they’re just standing there.

“are you alrigh’?” johnny’s asking as he moves towards you. he’s fully recovered his breath now, and he drops to a crouch to be eye level with you.

you don’t answer— you can’t. you keep laughing. distantly, you hear the knife simon was holding clatter to the ground. can just make out the sound of more footsteps out in the hallway, coming towards the room.

you pass out.

when you wake up again, you’re in the infirmary. your eyes open slowly, adjusting to the bright fluorescent lights.

“easy, love,” a voice to your right drawls.

your eyes are fully open now. you look down at yourself, noticing the lack of bindings. noticing the iv taped to your arm, the stitched cuts, the black and blue bruises, the missing fingernails and missing finger.

the person sitting next to you clears his throat. that’s when you look up and meet the eyes of your captain.

your captain. the man who was supposed to lead you, to keep you safe. what a fucking joke. he’d started the damn witch hunt.

“how d’you feel?” he asks, his words soft, like he’s trying not to scare off a timid animal.

you stare at him for a beat. then two. then you’re moving, pulling the iv from your arm and shakily pushing yourself up in the bed. price is telling you to stop, reaching out to push you back down, but you slap at his hands.

“get the fuck off me!” you shout, and that takes him aback. he stops, frozen, as he watches you shift in the bed. you throw your legs over the side of it and prepare yourself to stand.

“you really shouldn’t—” he begins after he’s regained his senses, but you pay him no mind. you place your feet on the ground and start to stand. your legs wobble, almost give out, but you’re able to stand. barely.

“shut up,” you growl, stumbling forward and towards the exit. he’s moving to cut you off, and you slide him a gaze that’s sharper than a knife. “and leave me the fuck alone.”

he halts again. he seems almost scared of you— but that can’t be right. even on your best days, he would still beat you in hand-to-hand combat.

he’s not scared of your threats or your frail body. he’s scared of what he’s done to you.

just then, johnny and gaz come through the infirmary doors.

“cap, y’alright? we heard yellin’—” johnny begins, but his mouth snaps shut at the sight of you out of bed.

you’re heaving from your spot next to the bed. your legs are shaking violently, threatening to give out any second. you feel nauseous and numb.

“let’s get you back into bed,” gaz says, and he starts towards you, but you stop him as your gaze snaps to his.

“don’t come any fucking closer. any of you.”

“bonnie,” johnny murmurs. he sounds miserable, but you don’t care. don’t give a fuck about how any of them feel.

“don’t. im leaving,” you grunt out, moving a foot forward slowly. you’d be damned if you fell in front of them.

“you can’t, love. you’re in no shape to be walking.” john says, and you snarl.

“and whose fault is that?”

the men stay silent as they watch you slowly shuffle towards the foot of the bed. you’re bracing yourself to walk on your own when simon walks in.

“get back in bed,” his tone is blunt. you ignore him.

you remove your hand from the bed, move to take a step forward without support, and you begin to crumple to the floor.

simon moves forward, quick as a cat, and catches you. he lifts you into his arms bridal style, and you’re screaming hysterically. your limbs are flailing the best they can in such a battered state. you’re in fight-or-flight mode, your body betraying your desire to put up a steely front.

your palms slap against simon’s upper body and his masked face. he gives no reaction. he doesn’t say anything. the others are watching the exchange silently. the room is buzzing with tension.

“get off me!” you screech, landing a slap to simon’s cheek. “let me— let me go! let me go!” you’re gasping for breath, tears streaming down your cheeks. you’re panicking. your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest.

“put me down! get— get— off me! stop—” you sob.

the doctor rushes into the room then, yelling at the men for allowing you out of bed. you can’t make out what she’s saying over the rush of blood in your ears. you feel light-headed. you can’t breathe.

“put them down, now!” the doctor yells at simon. “they’re having a panic attack— I thought I told you four to stay away from them? they’re too vulnerable right now—” the doctor is chastising them as simon places you back in the bed.

spots are dancing in your vision. you don’t even feel it when the doctor sticks another needle into your arm. the words being exchanged above your head are muffled. it’s like you’re underwater.

john’s face comes into view, then johnny’s, then gaz’s. as your eyes start to close, you notice the only face you don’t see again is simon’s.

when you wake up again, it’s been two weeks.

the doctor had put you into a medically induced coma to allow your more serious wounds time to heal, without risking another episode. unbeknownst to you, the members of your team had stayed by your bedside almost the entire time— minus simon. he hadn’t come within ten feet of the infirmary since the day of your panic attack.

there’s fresh flowers on the bedside table. a steady beeping of the heart monitor. a fuzzy feeling in your head.

it feels like a dream, all of it does. none of it feels real as you settle into your body again. but then the hurt starts, and you remember the truth.

your family betrayed you. your lover betrayed you. they locked you up and tortured you. they didn’t believe you.

when the doctor came to your side to check your iv, she smiled.

“how’re you feeling?”

you look up at her, and it takes a moment for you to speak.

“don’t,” you begin. your mouth feels like it’s full of cotton. “don’t let them…in here. don’t…wanna see them.”

the doctor nods in understanding, and she doesn’t say anything else to you. she turns and walks out of the room.

the door clicks shut behind her. she lets out a sigh before turning around to face the three men.

“they don’t want to see you.” she tells them, and their expressions drop. they don’t protest, and like wounded puppies, they walk off.

no one else comes to check on you for a few hours.

you’re in and out of consciousness— can’t tell what’s real and what’s a dream. flashes of your torture come back to you. flashes of a smile. of a scarred face. of hands on your hips and—

you crack your eyes open, and the room is dark. the only light is the blinking of some of the machines. it illuminates the room enough to allow you to see a large, dark figure slip from the room. the door clicks shut so quietly it’s almost imperceptible.

that’s when you notice fresh flowers on the bedside table.

your eyes start to droop once more, and you chalk up whatever you just saw to a dream, while simon exhales heavily on the other side of the infirmary door.

————————————————

authors note:

I hope this alright! it’s one in the morning (and I’m half asleep writing this) so I apologize for the errors that are most likely present, and the sense this most likely lacks. I feel like I could write a whole book about this idea, but im cutting myself off to sleep lol.

thank you for the ask, I hope I did your idea justice. 🫶

[guppybibi]

Price who rethinks about his life choices when his kid asks him what year he was born just for them to say "Wow, you're old daddy! Were dinosaurs scary?"

Simon who was teaching his little girl some carpentry because it wasn't just a boy's job, right? Of course it isn't! But he does internally cringe when his kid grabs a nearby hammer due to curiosity and drops it on his foot.

Kyle who silently gulps nervously & you see sweat forming at his forehead when his kid goes up to him and asks help with their homework (Not that he's stupid or anything, he's a grown man after all, just genuinely doesn't want to get anything wrong.)

John who had to witness first hand how honest and mean children were when his own child came up to him, all smiles at first just to say– "You're hair looks a little weird, daddy." Then runs off to continue doing whatever.

(uhh im a different person at night, if this is bad, blame them not me)

[teamblck]

YEAH? AND?

[metallictastinglifesupportliquid]

Y/N: Hi I'm your medic and I'll be drawing your blood today, as soon as I finish this capri sun Y/N: *misses the hole four times then finally punches the straw through the side* Ghost, sweating: PRICE