#cod related

[mellounir]

how could you not love the guy

[accecakes]

Life is hard sometimes. So here's Soap on leave to heal his knee injury going thru minor inconveniences just cuz.

[callsign-coolsquirrel]

Dad!Spencer 🥺💛

theyre going to go pick up mAMA *punching the air*

[secretlysimpash]

Shifter AU König, but he’s not what you expected. 

Seeing a mountain like König, you would fully expect something terrifying. Something absolutely fitting for his 6-foot-fucking infinity height and his skillset. So in a world full of shifters, its only fitting that he’d be a bear…Or a lion, or just…Anything big and intimidating. 

So imagine your surprise when you have to go to his office for something, you need to ask about an upcoming mission…And sitting on top of König’s desk is just

this absolute creature

"Miau."

[newgroundstier]

idiot baby kill credit fight

[c3berus]

simon fucking riley.

[mintfullyyours]

Soap with a partner who has glasses and he always hides them so reader is literally dependent on Johnny to find things. Johnny who will only give them back if you're good. If you listen to him. If you do exactly what he says.

"My glasses, Johnny..." you deadpan, holding a palm out to him.

He'll gently grab your palm with one of his hands and pepper kisses atop of yours. Unbeknownst to you, your glasses are in his other hand. With a devilish smirk, he presses his body against yours, caging you against the kitchen sink.

"I'll tell ye for a kiss." He smirks as you squint at him, "Make that two."

And like what're you gonna do? Deny him? No, of course not.

Johnny gets what Johnny wants.

[ceilidho]

Okay but ghost who is turned on by the size difference between you two. Ghost who notices one day that maybe your forearm and his dick are about equal lengths and thickness. Now he can’t stop imagining the bulge it would create in your tummy when he fucks you slow and deep. Ghost, who is guilty of manspreading whenever you walk into the room and lives for the blush that paints your cheeks as you notice his size, and he can’t help but puff his chest up with pride. Omg or ghost who remains unbeatable when you two spar, pinning you down on the mats so easily it’s laughable, pushing his pelvis into yours as one hand holds both your wrists above your head and he is absolutely living for the doe eyed look you give him from underneath. Just giving you my ghost brainrot of the hour lmao

His brain short-circuits when his whole hand easily fits around your wrist. He stops you from grabbing something and something thrums through him at the difference in size, but it digs in when he notices how wide your eyes go. Just staring down at his gloved hand on your wrist.

It's even worse if Ghost notices how much his fingers overlap around your ankle when he's pulling you back down the bed when you try to crawl away. He loves the way your breath hitches when your fingers barely touch after wrapping around his cock. When his boots frame your feet when he's fucking you from behind, it makes his blood pressure spike to see the two side by side.

He always makes you sit down first whenever you go out for a drink or stop at a diner for food. That way he's the first thing anyone sees before their eyes fall on you, and they never get too interested if they register the sheer size of him first. Their eyes sort of glance off you after that.

[pavlov-sdog]

I may have watched severance

My two favorite things are combining my interests and drawing over things. Sue me. Anyways am I crazy or is Adler less horrible in Bell’s “memory” (for the 30 seconds we see him that is)

[reds-skull]

Comic request by @1stunseeliefaelass of reader witch and Ghost (+the Rileys)! Only... about 3 months late 😬 (really sorry about that, uni hit like a truck)

I hope this is accurate enough to your work!

[callsign-coolsquirrel]

mermaid penelope who just seen pirate Morgan 😔IF YOU HAVE THE EARS TO HEAR

[secretlysimpash]

God of Death Simon, keeping an eye on Mortal Reader. Watching as they tend to their garden, their animals, wiping sweat from their brow...Everything about them is so perfectly human and mortal and softer and sweeter than anything that he is worthy of.

And yet, here he is, passing down the path to their farm...To your farm. Grass on either side of him dies, withers away. Anything he touches succumbs to death, but you...You will be his eternal. He wears leather gloves, made of the finest hides. Magicked to conceal his murderous abilities, so he may hand off the sweet pomegranate tart to you.

You're shocked to see him...The God of Death himself at your door. Simon, The Ghost, the killer, stealer of souls. But he assured you that he is not here to reap your soul. Simply here to give you an offering.

A god giving a mortal an offering...How odd. But you cannot refuse it, you know how rare this is. So you go to take it, but he stops you. He instructs you to open your mouth, so he may feed you.

Carefully, reverently, he places one gloved hand on your cheek. The other gently feeds the deep red tart past your lips. As you chew the tart, savoring the flavor, he lets you know...

That his touch will never make you wilt or wither away, that your soul is his and his alone. Equally, he is yours. This pastry has a spell within it, magic that grants you immortality.

Your eyes widen, and he barely gives you time to fully swallow the tart before scooping you into his arms.

Off to the Underworld with the both of you, though he reassures that you may keep your farm. You may have anything and everything you desire from here on out.

[vendigool]

After a close examination i have decided theyre related

[brattypagansub]

Ghost: *shows off his strength without meaning to by punching the bag clear off its stand*

Gaz: *half impressed half mocking* get a load of this guy

Soap ‘heart eyes’ MacTavish: *not thinking before he speaks* I’M TRYING

[gomzdrawfr]

First words with Uncle Simon

part 1 | part 2

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Your tags make me want to read Price getting to pat Nik. Please? 🥺

Nik's hair is a reflection of his character.

cw: none (partly inspired by a post by @panchulien with a young Nik and Price).

Price realised he was obsessed with Nik's hair quite early on. When they'd met, it had been a harsh buzz cut; a number two all the way over at the very longest, paired with a clean shaven jaw. It hadn't suited him. Not even in his blue uniform and cap. His eyes were too warm for the austere, minimalist impression the rest of ensemble was trying to communicate. It was like his internal conflict had manifested in his physical appearance; the severe officer battling the warm-hearted Russian patriot.

After Price had "liberated" him, or rather, encouraged him to turn informant and cut his own path towards liberation, Nik had grown his hair out. Price remembered seeing him for the first time after freeing him from the detention centre in which his own government had been about to execute him. Nearly a year had passed, and Nik's hair had grown into an unruly mane. Close to a mullet, but with erratic, thick black curls paired with roguish facial hair. He'd reminded Price of a musketeer or a Renaissance poet; the sombre misery had been replaced by an almost manic charisma.

That had suited him. It set off the wildness in his eyes. But that wildness had manifested in other, more dangerous ways. Price and Nik had fed off of each other's anger and penchant for violence in those early days. When they were on op together, their lack of boundaries had led them to dark places; Nik, without direction or purpose beyond point and shoot, and Price with a chip on his shoulder.

Price had watched those thick curls fall across a blood smeared face after Nik had beaten a man to death with his bare hands more than once, the crooked smirk that followed revealing a flash of something raw and in pain beneath the surface. They crossed lines, violated boundaries and codes of ethics, telling themselves it was for a higher purpose that not even they had much of a handle on.

Mac had tried to keep them apart. Had warned Price away and told him to get a grip. Dogs that bit the hand that fed them were put down eventually, one way or another. But Nik had been intoxicating. His rage completed and complemented Price's in the worst and best ways.

Nik needed to heal. They both did. It took years. Years of dancing around each other, of finding the limit of what they would do for the "greater good", working out what that even bloody meant in the first place. They carved out their own morality, separate from the hypocrisy of the institutions that had made them, and slowly, slowly, the rage, the bleeding wounds inside Nikolai, had healed. Price had fallen in love with that wild, uncontrollable maniac, and he had stayed in love with him once he'd found enough peace to stop his own self-destruction.

Price sat across from him in the little boat they had hired for a tour down the River Oder. Nik had wanted to show Price Wrocław, the Venice of Poland. Twelve little islands connected by over a hundred little bridges, with one of the biggest markets in Europe huddled in the centre. Nik had spent the morning dragging Price down side streets to find some of the three hundred odd little bronze gnomes scattered throughout the city. "To commemorate the Orange Alternative movement," Nik had explained, his big hands gesturing expressively towards the Gothic Town Hall, tone excitable and boyish, "they used absurdist humour to protest against communist rule in the eighties."

Nik was at peace now. Nearing his fiftieth birthday, his hair was receding into a deeper widow's peak, smoothed back and neat, with slight curls at the back and beneath his ears. His stubble flattered his jaw and Price liked raking his nails through it when they kissed. Not too wild, not too austere. A perfect balance that reflected the equilibrium in Nik's heart.

"John?" Nik asked, his eyebrows raised. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, comrade," Price said, flashing rueful smile. "Just thinkin' about old times."

"Ah." Nik scratched up his bare forearm to the fold of the sleeve at his elbow. "Well then," he picked up his glass of krupnik and Price did the same, "to old times."

"And all the good times to come, cheers." Price knocked back a mouthful of the liqueur and grimaced. "Jesus fuck, Nik, this shit is fockin' 'orrid." He tipped the remainder of the glass overboard. "Could murder a man for a decent stout."

Nik rolled his eyes. "You take the Englishman out of England, but..."

Price kicked his shin. "Yeah yeah, Mr World Wide. I'm a simple man with simple tastes, not all of 'em good."

"Oh, I don't know," Nik hummed. "You are dating me after all."

And there, just for a moment, was a flash of that wild, curly-haired man that had first stolen Price's heart in the devilish little grin on Nik's face, and Price's blood ran hot in his veins.