#sergeant Kyle gaz garrick

[vellichor-of-the-solivagant]

How To Plant Snapdragons | 14

Task Force 141, Keegan & Konig x Female Criminal!Reader

Previous Chapter / Masterlist

You and the team tore through the night and storm, fighting off the savage waves of the sea. The wind slammed on your faces as though ready to tear your flesh apart and scatter it across the water.

Ghost conversed with Graves on the comms and the boat swerved to the left towards the ship, whereas the one Johnny was on with Alejandro and Graves continued forward.

You didn't want to leave Soap alone, but for a better strategy to take over the ship and rig, spreading man power was necessary.

The boat slowed and Rodolfo shot a hook skyward and managed to get it stuck onto the railings of the ship in a second. You climbed onto the rope and immediately spotted Ghost slashing throats and blasting holes through heads on his way.

And fucking hell, you would never get enough of hot, confident men who got the strength and skills to back it up.

You slid down the floor, assisted by the water causing it to become slippery, and fired at a couple of people. You stood up and cursed, losing your balance as the ship tipped over to the right. Ahead, a container swerved to your path causing your heart to leap to your throat as you made a run to the side and shrieked when the ship tipped to where you were going, making the container follow your track.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” You sprinted to the other side and screamed when you spotted another container going your way just as you slipped. “FUCK, FUCK, FUCK—”

Something slammed against the container and your eyes widened when you realized it was Ghost, holding it back before the ship tilted to the side again. By the second you back up on your foot, you were heaved up in the air and thrown in a room, before another container slammed at the entrance, trapping you inside with the Lt.

“Good lord, I almost became a pancake,” you sighed in relief and looked up at Ghost. “Thank you, sir.”

God, you just wanted to jump on him and pepper him with kisses and let yourself be manhandled the way he wanted.

He looked down on you, reaching down a hand which you took and steadied yourself up. “Ya good?”

“Yeah.” You forced out a soft laugh. “I think the containers have something against me cuz two of them came at me at the same time.” You watched him gaze down on you, but not on your face, and so, you followed the direction of his eyes. “Oh.” You quickly pulled your hand back and wrapped it around your rifle instead. “Sorry.”

“Be careful,” he commanded, but it sounded more of a reminder. “Let's go.”

You nodded in agreement and rushed back out, minding the way where the ship would incline and the direction where the containers would move.

“Snapdragon.”

You turned to Ghost, who wasn't looking at you, but you knew it was him who called. He didn't say anything after, so you didn't bother uttering a word and focused on taking down the rest of the cartel.

“Shampoo.”

You grumbled. “Alright, what is it?”

“What did the Shampoo say to the hairbrush?”

“God, not Shampoo puns,” you begged, shaking your head, but it didn't stop him.

“Let’s comb-ine forces and make this hair-mazing,” he said in a flat tone, but you could hear a stifled cough from him. “Why did the shampoo get in trouble at school?”

You snorted. “Go on.”

“It kept on skipping conditioning class.” He slashed a man’s throat and pushed the person off the ship.

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, slick.”

He turned to you, swiping the blood off his skull, which easily came off due to the rain. “Like the conditioner?”

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh. “Get outta here.”

“Negative. You can’t condition the enemies on your own.”

“Stoooop,” you whined, removing the pin from a grenade and throwing it ahead.

“You called ‘Snapdragon’, eh?” He grabbed your arm and pulled you away from a container. “Suits you, since you snap at everything and you've got us drag on to your antics.”

“Please.” At this point, you wanted to cry. No one had ever attacked you with so many puns in a row.

“Please what?”

“. . . Sir.”

“Good.”

AAAAAAAAAAAAAA—

You never wanted to fuck someone in the rain, in a tilting ship, between crates and containers, above dead corpses, till you drown, till he became like the skull on his balaclava until now.

Was it the puns? Sure, okay, it did add points. Being funny was always a plus point. But heck, the guy didn't even need to talk much and he could still be hot. Because, your honor, how could a guy not be hot after stopping a fucking container to save your slippery ass?

You waved a finger at the lieutenant. “Don't call me that, sir. I might jump onto you.”

Then, Graves’ voice came from the comms, interrupting your little, spontaneous date with Ghost (which was definitely one-sided). “Shadow 0-1 to Ghost!”

You stepped before him to guard him in case there were more enemies left as Ghost tapped on his device. “Ghost to Shadow, how copy?”

“The controls . . . that ship!” Graves yelled, the connection a bit patchy due to the weather, but he repeated his words, making it clearer. “Soap and I are on the way there!”

“Rog. We'll clear the way till you get here,” Ghost answered back through the comms and nodded at you to follow him.

You clicked your tongue. “Just when I thought we're clear and having fun.”

“We can continue that later,” he said in a low voice.

You might as well break your neck as you snapped your head in his way as quickly as lightning. What was that supposed to mean? What the fuck? Did you hear him right? Was it flirting? Eh, Ghost? Eh. No way. But, what if?

You looked around for the rest of the team and spotted Rodolfo and some Shadows closing in to your spot. You gestured at him and the rest of the men to catch up with you and Ghost.

Then, you felt a rumble as something seemed to have hit the ship from the side, and from your peripheral, you saw Soap and Graves' boat flying up into the ship. You gaped at their ridiculous sight and landing.

You had seen Keegan drive a truck over dozens of people and through a wall, love him for that, but this was on another level.

“Are you two trying to be in a circus?” you exclaimed and approached them, eyeing for any sign of injuries on their bodies.

“I like the SAS,” Soap grunted as he got off. You reached out a hand to him which he took and helped him steady himself on the swaying ship.

“Nothing is greater than being a PMC.” Graves ran his hand down his face, swiping the rainwater off.

You shook your head at their answers, but didn't further say any words to them and guided them towards the entry of the building where Ghost stood by with Rodolfo. Without hesitation, Graves stuck bombs on the metal door and all of you backed away as it exploded and waited for the smoke to clear. Once it did, Graves kicked down the door, leading the way inside.

A narrow hallway welcomed you, forcing the group to step in one by one, but even though Graves wasn't a 141 member, he was swift to bring down enemies and clear the way.

Sure is a CEO of mercenaries, you thought as he and Soap found the controls in a room up the stairs, quickly tapping in to intercept the fire of the missile. And in all honesty, you would have liked him if he wasn't Shepherd's lapdog.

But sooner or later, you would have him wrapped around your finger like a string, and use it to fucking strangle the general.

“Shit, we can't disarm it!” Graves exclaimed, slamming the tablet down the table.

You peered over the device and squinted your eyes at a familiar logo. “That fucking bitch,” you said under your breath as Graves’ talked with Shepherd and shoved the man aside. “Move.” You snatched the tablet from the table.

“What are you doing?” Graves questioned, clutching the tablet as well, but you kept your grip firm.

“I know—”

Shepherd talked over you. “We don't need your bullshit right now, woman. The clock is ticking!”

You stared at the tablet for a moment, confirming the design of the logo, and huffed, letting it go. “Fine. You won't give those controls to one of its developers, your loss.”

Soap put a hand on your shoulder. “What do ya mean by that?”

“One of its developers?” Ghost echoed.

“What are you insinuating?” Shepherd asked, his voice lowering into a threatening tone.

“No bullshit, yeah?.” You moved away from the controls, walking towards the entryway of the room. “Then, I say I couldn't care less about that missile launching. And I couldn't careless if you lock me up again and torture me for months, because by the end of the day, it will be your loss.”

“I would certainly want to go back to those days, Snapdragon,” Shepherd claimed in a mocking tone. “Get onto it, Shadow.”

“On it, standby,” Graves replied, motioning at Soap to join him on the controls. Soap shot a glance at you before standing next to him and began working on the controls. Meanwhile, Ghost ordered Alejandro, his men and the rest of the Shadows to get out of the oil rig.

With a few hits on the controls, the missile flew upward and just as fast, it dove to the structure, but your attention was quickly taken as the ship tilted and you felt a tap on your shoe.

You gazed down and stared at the corpse next to your feet, the sole of your boots tainted in a puddle of blood, oozing out from his head, where the bullet went through. And thoughts once again began to erupt in your head.

As you continued to look at the hole on the man’s head and the puddle of blood that reflected your gaze, you wanted to put your finger through where the bullet landed and see if it fits.

Slowly the man’s eyes fluttered open, staring back into you, black as the void, as though wanting to swallow you whole. You felt a lump at your throat, blocking off any words from rolling out of your tongue and all you could hear was the deafening drums of your heart, and distant screams, begs . . . cries.

You tried to avert your eyes, but you couldn't. The man’s gaze kept you imprisoned, frozen in nothing but darkness. Yet you could feel their hands crawling up on your like thousands of ants on your skin until they stopped at your throat, gripping tight, digging their nails onto your skin.

It hurts. Make it stop.

Blood rushed down from your throat, mixing with the void.

Make it stop!

Make it—

“Stop!”

You were welcomed with a shade of brown so deep it reminded you of the woods, that perhaps getting lost into them instead was a salvation. The surroundings were cold like the gentle caress of the droplets of rain from the leaves on your cheek. The tug was a patient and gentle guide to which you were sure there was safety, where your eyes settled on a man with a face hidden behind the remains of a corpse.

“Bloody hell!” Simon exclaimed, tilting your head up to take a look at your neck, where blood began to spill from reddened and swollen scratches. His eyes shifted to your hands on his, your nails appeared to have tints of red.

“Yeh alright, Bonnie?” Soap asked, reaching out a hand as he stood by your side, but didn't touch you.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

Ghost, then, tilted your head up, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Five things you can see.”

“H-huh?” Your voice came out trembling, a bit taken aback by his words.

“Five things you can see,” he repeated.

“Uh . . .” You scanned the place. “Windows, computers, the sea . . .” You glanced at the Scot and settled back to him. “Soap and you.”

“Good. Four things you can hear.”

“The ocean, the rain, you and . . . Soap.”

“Okay, three things you can touch.”

“Your gloves, your hands, and Soap’s.” Just as you said that, Johnny placed his hand on your cheek and smiled softly at you.

“Two things you can smell,” Ghost demanded.

You leaned on Soap’s touch, eyes falling halfway close. “Rust and the ocean.”

“Last, one thing you can taste.”

You shook your head. “Don't know.”

Ghost nodded. “Good enough, do you feel at least a bit better?”

“Yeah,” you heaved out a loud sigh.

“Your neck isn't,” Soap remarked, shaking his head. “You suddenly got quiet, you didn't seem to hear us, and you began clawing on the throat mic till you bled. Ghost had it removed already but . . .”

You reached up your free hand to your neck, but Ghost grabbed it, stopping you.

“Touching it furthermore might cause an infection,” he said, swiping the blood from your fingertips with his gloves. “We'll take care of it later.”

“What about Graves?” You scanned the room once again, you didn't notice it earlier but the Shadow himself was nowhere to be found.

“He went out first, he was talking to Shepherd,” Soap explained and tugged down on your collar, to keep it away somehow from your scratches. He eyed the redness and the clotting blood.

Maybe, you weren't so invincible after all, that sometimes the human inside you breaks out of the shell where you were locked in as a weapon as Shepherd and Graves stated.

Maybe, you weren't exactly what he had concluded. But he wasn't one to talk.

Soap was a man who hid bodies behind closets. A man who washed the dirt and blood he had spilled.

“Come here, love,” he gently wrapped his hand around your nape.

Perhaps, he had gone crazy, because he wanted to clean up a mess, not from his brothers-in-arms nor the enemies, but someone who seemed to have been bathing on it for long.

His lips crashed onto yours as you turned to him, eyes going wide whereas his was shut close. He licked over your lips and you parted them open, closing your eyes as he took over your mouth. His tongue swirled with yours, eliciting a groan from you. But it soon ended, with him pulling away, leaving a string of saliva between you.

He smirked, running his thumb over your lower lip. “What do you taste now?”

Once again, you were rendered speechless as your face burned red.

“That's two,” Ghost claimed, making you warmer than before, as it dawned on you that he heard your moan. “That's fucking two, right in front of me.”

“And yet, you kept on holding her hands.” Johnny looked down at your hands within Ghost’s grasp, and you closed your eyes, pursing your lips. “Say it, Lt. You also like—ow!”

“Could you guys move?” You asked, pushing Soap inside the vehicle, making him scoot more towards the Lt. on which your superiors both grumbled.

 You shut the door close with a loud thud and Rodolfo shot a quick glance at the mirror, making sure you were settled before he drove off.

You peered over the window, letting the wind trash your hair and the rain kiss your skin. Others might find it suffocating, but you find comfort in the harshness it brought, and perhaps, you had become so comfortable that you only realized the vehicle had come to a stop at the entryway of Alejandro's base.

Your eyes narrowed at the unusual number of Shadows stationed at the gate and pulled yourself back in the transport, only to swing the door open. You jumped out and quickly joined Alejandro's side before Graves.

“What is this?” Alejandro motioned a hand at the Shadows, who were all lining up behind Graves.

You began counting the heads.

“Step away from the gate,” Graves commanded, making you frown.

“Hold up,” you stepped in front of Alejandro. “This is the Colonel's base.”

“Alejandro's soldiers have been relieved from this operation,” he said, tilting his chin up high and looking down at you with a half-lidded gaze. “This is under General Shepherd's order.”

“That bullshit came from him?” Soap questioned, taking the Colonel's other side.

Alejandro grabbed your shoulder, gently pushing you aside and stepping forward. “I don't take orders from you,” he glowered at the American.

You glanced over your shoulder and found a couple of Shadows behind and in front of Ghost. Then, you looked ahead and squinted your eyes at the Shadow who put his hand next to his ear and with the movements behind his balaclava, you realized he was talking to someone.

You reached for your knife.

“General Shepherd has sent his regards . . .” Graves trailed off and let go of his gun, letting it fall by his side. “Is what he told me to say, but I've got better things to do than this shi—”

“Get down!” With a swift hand, you aimed at the Shadow who raised their gun, while shoving Graves aside. You threw the knife, taking down the man, but all of them had started to shoot. “This is why I told you to fucking know your Shadows! They're hired by Shep—argh!” You staggered back as a bullet pierced through your shoulder.

Alejandro rushed forward, but a Shadow shot at his arm and hammered his head with the bottom of their gun.

You dove down behind the vehicle, grimacing at the sudden pain. Just as you were about to grab Graves, a bullet whistled past. “Graves! Alejandro!”

From your peripheral, Ghost slit a Shadow’s throat open and turned, launching the same knife at another one's neck.

At the same time, Graves had been shot at his shoulder and his men—now his own enemies quickly tied his wrist.

No, you didn't have time to worry about them. Your mission now was to keep the 141 safe. You fished out a folding knife from under your boot and swung your leg to the side as a Shadow rushed past. He fell with a thud and you plunged the blade on his neck and pulled, ripping it open.

You flinched as you heard a loud grunt. Ahead of you, Soap fell on his back, blood gushing out of his bicep.

“Fuck, fuck,” you chanted under your breath and you noticed the lieutenant dropping down on his knees.

“Soap, get out of here!” Ghost yelled from under the car.

“I’m not—”

“Just go!” You yelled over the Sergeant and breathed out as you heard his grunts and footsteps moving.

“Get him!” A Shadow demanded and you threw your resort of weapon at him, perfectly piercing through his neck.

“Ghost.” You crawled towards him. “Go, I'll distract them.”

“That's dangerous,” he glowered at you.

“Not more than me,” you pulled out the phone you got from one of Valeria’s men and stashed it under his vest. “Go.”

He nodded and patted your head. “Be safe.”

You rolled out from under the car.

“Get the woman! Shepherd needs her back!”

You sighed in relief, snatching a gun from the Shadow Ghost had taken down. Now, you can act freely as you can.

You grinned and shot up to your feet. “And you shall know why Shepherd needs me.”

But before you could fire, smoke veiled your surroundings and pained shouts echoed ahead of you. You squinted to make out what was happening.

At that moment, from the cover of darkness and the shroud of fumes, a man with a gaze as cold and piercing as a blade emerged. Like a breeze, he swept you off your feet fleeing from the scene, and as rare as the rain in a drought, he graced you with a voice you would quaff down like a man starved.

“Not more than I need you.”

Like how a single flower in the desert sought a droplet of water.

As though the heavens were crying on your behalf from the wheels of emotions you had felt tonight, rain poured down stridently, and akin to drowning, you choked out his name.

“Keegan.”

The one and only, Keegan P. Russ is on the stage! Now we only wait for our king. Also, we will be adding Price on the boat based on the votes on the prev. chap.

Next Chapter / Archive of Our Own

Taglist: @yyiikes , @the-faceless-bride , @cassiecasluciluce , @annoyingstrawberryballoon @unicorngirly1, @thriving-n-jiving, @squidalapobre, @tallicaside @eustassh

[mrsparrasblog]

COD porn links part 2

You liked my porn links so I thought I'd search again

A/N: for these of you who Klick on it and say you're traumatised or complain it's porn, if it traumatisez you don't Klick on it lol

Johnny

It's okay by military law as long as I don't put it in , bonnie

Johnny has a foot fetish

Just Johnny being Johnny

John Price

He loves to make his wife wet

Your Captain isn't a soft lover

Price after you flirted with a recruite

Dryhumping Price

Kyle

Kyle loves you and your cunt

Romantic kyle

Tinder date with officer Kyle

Ghost

Virgin Simon

How your lieutenant likes to see you

That's 1000000% Simon Riley

Teaching his favourite rookie a lesson

König

Kortac is fine with frateenization

Königs big hand fingers you

König with his barracks bunny

Loser König

Extras:

That's so threesome with Johnny and Simon coded

[ghostofvalorie]

This… is stupid, but you know what, it delighted me to draw and that’s the most important thing <3

[starsofang]

CALL OF THE SEA / PART FIVE

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, not much for this chapter, but as always, be cautious! a/n: so sorry for the wait, this chapter isn't as long as the others but i'm in the process of moving! i'll be moved in by late next week, so when that happens, i'll finally have more time to deliver longer parts and be more active! <3 masterlist

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

“You let her get away.”

“S’not like I meant to, Cap,” Soap defended, scowling to himself.

The four men stood in Price’s quarters, all shoulders equally tensed and expressions grim. While Gaz and Ghost remained quiet thus far, the intensity rolled off of them menacingly. Soap could practically see the sourness fill the air.

“But you did,” Price reiterated, slamming his palm on the table. It shook the room, quill holders rumbling and threatening to spill onto the floor. “We already take a risk havin’ her on our ship until she grows accustomed to livin’ here. How could you be so careless?”

“Can ye blame her?” Soap spat back. The men fell silent with Price narrowing his eyes in suspicion. “The poor lass watched the four of us burn her village down. Then we took her in like a fit of scoundrels. I don’t blame her for runnin’ off the way she did.”

Price kept his mouth shut, pressed in a firm line. His shoulders were squared, an argument threatening to spill out, yet he didn’t encourage it. After all, Soap had a point, but they weren’t supposed to care. It was a simple part of being savages.

“She’ll understand eventually—“

“But she won’t,” Soap cut Price off, leaning his hands on the table to match the Captain’s. The two of them stared long and hard at one another. “We don’t even understand, so what makes ye think she will?”

“Soap,” Ghost warned. Soap’s gaze flickered over to the masked man, whose eyes were darkened with warning. Gaz shifted uncomfortably from beside him. “Watch your tongue.”

Soap opened his mouth to protest, but before he could, Price raised his palm, requesting silence. The look on his face was unreadable, but the sign of authority was clear.

“You need to get your head out of the trenches, Soap,” Price warned. “Carin’ for her will only have you throwin’ yourself overboard, and that’s not somethin’ I can save you from. We needed a medic, and she was in the right place at the right time. That is all.”

“So ye don’t have the slightest bit of sympathy for her, s’that right, Cap?” Soap asked, eyes narrowing in on the Captain.

“There is no place in this world for sympathy,” Price responded meekly. “Let alone for her.”

“And for us?” Soap questioned, gesturing to the other two men in the room.

“You are my men,” Price grunted. “She is an unlucky woman that came from rags rather than riches. That is to no fault but her own. You forget your place, Soap.”

Though Price had remained calm, Soap could see the building aggravation. It was in the way the Captain’s hands clenched atop the table, his eyes glossed over with a heated fire from being rebutted.

“It seems yer forgettin’ yers as well, Captain,” Soap muttered bitterly.

The atmosphere was so thick, it was suffocating. Not a single man said another word, caught in a deadly stare down. It was a rarity to challenge Price’s authority, let alone over an unfortunate woman who they had ruined all on their own.

If Soap’s words affected Price, he didn’t make it known. Rather, his irritability was evidence, and he appeared to be fighting off any resentment towards his own crew.

“Get out,” Price uttered, voice low, but the notion was clear. “All of you.”

Nobody argued. Rather, they filed out one by one, Price’s door slamming on the way out.

Ghost grumbled when just the three of them remained, stalking off to his own quarters for the night.

Gaz joined Soap in watching the masked man leave. It wasn’t until he was fully out of sight did Gaz speak.

“You have a point, Soap,” Gaz said quietly, slapping a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Good luck makin’ Cap see that.”

Gaz gave him another squeeze of his hand before sauntering off himself, leaving Soap alone on the upper deck, the summer air suddenly feeling frigid and bitter.

The cell was suffocating you all over again. You missed the feel of a bed, the soft furs that lined Price’s bed that showered you in comforting warmth for the night, the flood of fresh air in your lungs.

Part of you felt like you took it for granted. The bitter part of you, though, knew that you deserved to have those things without being in the possession of a pirate.

The shoes Soap left you taunted you from the corner of the cell. They mocked you, called you ungrateful. It painted you with an uncomfortable guilt that settled deep in your bones.

You shouldn’t feel bad for a bunch of savages, but what kind of savages would think to surprise you with shoes, even picking out ones that you might like? You couldn’t speak for the others, but Soap had shed a light of humanity in a time where you needed it, and you had fucked that up.

Now, you wanted it more than ever. The cell was cold and unwelcoming, and you missed the taste of freedom you were given so shortly.

It felt as if you were back at square one. For the first day, nobody came to offer you food like before. Your stomach grumbled with a might that had you coiled over, silently crying into your hands. The second night was torturous, and it felt as if your own stomach was beginning to feast on itself.

The third night, however, was when you were finally graced with sympathy.

What greeted you, or more so who, had taken you by surprise. Expecting Soap or Gaz, or even Ghost to degrade you for being so stupid, you were instead faced with the Captain himself.

Price stood with a steaming bowl of stew and another bowl of simple rice. The sight of it had your mouth watering and your stomach gurgling in desperation.

“Hello, dove,” he offered, his tone surprisingly soft compared to the spitefulness he held days before. It still held authority, one you didn’t think would ever rid itself, but it wasn’t as angry as expected.

You gave him a nod in response but said nothing. A touch of dread crept up your spine. He was all too calm to you, who had nearly sent his men to unforeseeable death.

Price balanced the two bowls on one arm so he could unlock your cell door and step inside. Once in, he carefully placed the bowls on the ground in front of you where you sat, taking a cautious step back.

As much as you wanted to devour the food without. a second thought, you remained frozen and stubborn. You stared at the bowls of hot food before shifting up to look at him. When he gave you a nod in confirmation, that was all you needed to begin eating.

Eating was the nicer word. Demolishing was more accurate.

You didn’t bother to eat with the spoon given, rather you used your hands to grab a fistful of rice and guzzle it down. Grains of rice stuck to your face around your mouth, showing an embarrassing display. You were so hungry you didn’t care.

“Slow down,” Price ordered. You paused in your eating, glancing up at him. He didn’t look angry, but he did look a bit disturbed at your desperation.

Flustered, you swallowed the food down, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Picking up the spoon in the stew, you ate it with eagerness but allowed yourself some decency.

Price was silent as you ate, standing with his arms crossed, watching. You were too enraptured in the meal to care, even if you look distasteful. The food had never tasted this good before, and you weren't sure whether it was because you were starving, or because somebody else cooked.

You imagined the pirates in the kitchen together, chopping vegetables and meat to place it in a pot, using an array of spices. Arguing over who got to do what, disagreeing with a choice of meal for the day.

It gave them a small sense of normality in your mind, even eliciting a small laugh from you. Price’s face contorted in confusion, wondering what could possibly be funny, especially in times like this. You, locked in a cell, given the worst hand the world could’ve given you, finding something joyful enough to laugh through it.

“Would you like to tell me why you’re laughin’?” Price gruffed.

You swallowed down your food, peering up at him from where you sat on the floor. “I was just imagining Soap and Ghost arguing over who gets to cook,” you confessed, looking back down at your food. “I apologize. It is not funny.”

You could feel Price’s stare. The air was silent, tense, before he ultimately broke it. “Ghost is the one that cooks,” he explained. “Used to be a butcher back in his day.”

“A butcher?” you repeated, pondering. The mask Ghost flaunted made him mysterious and concealed. You would’ve never imagined him as a butcher, though the more you thought about it, the more it clicked. “That seems to make quite a bit of sense, actually.”

“Does it?” Price hummed with the telltale sign of amusement. It was hardly evident. “Yes, I believe it does. Explains why he’s so good with a knife, aye?”

You grimaced at that. Ghost was certainly good in combat, that was something you could see from the jump. You just didn’t want to envision who and what he uses it on.

“I believe we got off on the wrong foot,” Price began. The words took you by surprise. “Might have ruffled too many of your little feathers too soon.”

“That is a severe understatement,” you muttered. Price shot you a look, successfully shutting you up.

“We do not normally have others on our ship. If we have treated you with hostility, then I apologize. You must understand the walls we have built up, you see,” he explained.

“Then why have you taken me if you are going to treat me as a mere rat?” you asked. He sniffed, feigning disinterest. “I thought you appointed me as a medic. It does not feel as though you are true to your word. Is there perhaps another reason for kidnapping me that you are not telling me?”

Price was quiet, eyes wandering off elsewhere. He appeared in thought, as if debating something heavily in his mind.

“No,” he finally said, hesitating. “You were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. I do not apologize for taking you, but I do… sympathize. Perhaps I should’ve been kinder.”

“Perhaps,” you repeated, albeit a tad bitterly. Price was unfazed by the subtle resentment you held. He didn’t seem to care at all. He was a hard man to read, even harder than Ghost. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and that was dangerous.

Price cleared his throat, the aura of awkwardness smothering him. It was evident to you that he wasn’t used to being kind and having to resolve with someone. You briefly wondered what made him change his mind.

“You are right,” he continued. “We took you in to be our medic. Medics cannot work in a cell.”

Price took a step back to leave the cell, yet the door remained open. He gestured for you to step out, to join him. You were weary, slowly standing from your spot and taking a skeptical step out of the cell.

“I will give you the choice in who you wish to stay with until we can arrange a space for you to sleep.” Price began stepping up the stairs that led to the upper deck, so you silently followed. “If you wish to stay with me again, that is fine. But if you wish to stay with Gaz or Soap, that can be arranged as well.”

“No Ghost?” you asked in, dare you say, amusement.

“Unless you would like to be strangled in your sleep, I would not advise it,” he responded.

“That was a jest, Captain. I know how to pick my battles.”

Price paused in front of the doors to the upper deck, turning to you. He stared for a long moment, before you saw the tiniest of smiles play at his lips. It was buried under his facial hair, but from the slight crinkle in his eyes, you knew.

“You’re quite the wise bird, I’ll give you that,” he mused, before opening the doors. “Up you go.”

The moonlight soaked into your skin the moment you stepped out of the brig. It was inviting, basking you in the warmth you so craved. The air was crisp, and you breathed it in heavily through your nostrils, your body immediately faltering in relief.

Oh, how you missed the outside. Though your stay in the brig was much shorter than when you first arrived, it was still just as alleviating to get a taste of being human again.

“You will stay with me for the night,” he explained, guiding you across the creaky decks. “The others are already in their rooms. Tomorrow, you can decide who you prefer.”

You gave him a nod in acknowledgment, following him quietly to his quarters. When you arrived, the familiar scent of musk and cinnamon invaded your nostrils. For a pirate, it was a comforting smell, and you found a strange solace in it.

“I’m sure you wish to bathe, yes?” he asked.

A bath sounded heavenly. To wipe the grime and sweat off your skin, to feel clean again. You would’ve jumped into the dark sea if it meant bathing.

“You do not mind?” you questioned, suspicious.

“You’ll be sleepin’ in my cot for the night. I’d prefer if you were unsoiled. No bad blood, aye?”

Price’s boots were heavy against the floors as he made his way to the back of his quarters, where a lone curtain hung. Pulling it back, he exposed a wooden bowl, large enough to fit you, but certainly a squeeze for him.

A barrel stood behind the bath, and Price made haste to lift it with ease. Water began to pour out of the spout, slowly but surely filling the makeshift tub.

While he worked, your eyes wandered to glance around his quarters. When staying in it previously, you didn’t have the gall to be curious. Now that the two of you were on good enough terms to be acquaintances for now, you allowed yourself to be a bit nosy.

The walls were littered with pinned up maps, all varying in land. You hadn’t a clue where everything was, so none of it made sense to you. However, upon looking over to his desk, you saw another map, one unlike the others.

This one was written on with the ink of a quill. You weren’t sure the location, however, it seemed to be a mixture.

Over some of the islands graphed on the map, a large X was drawn in its place. They were crossed out with the ink, covering up the names printed over the location, deeming it impossible to read.

However, two locations were circled rather than crossed out. One was in the middle of the sea, not a piece of land or island in sight. The other was circled around a small island, tucked away from the Mainland, its name unknown. Beside it, a scrap piece of paper sat.

“The one who heals the ill and poor

shall be the cure to all demise.

Washed away to land and shore

shall be the looking glass for ocean eyes.

Find the one that you shall seek

to end the curse of Shadow’s Peak.”

As you finished reading, a large hand came into view, slamming over the poem. Price loomed over you, leaning against the table.

“Go and bathe,” he ordered. “I will leave you alone to do your bidding and return when you’re done.”

Jostled by the surprise appearance, you offered a meek nod, sauntering off to the tub. As Price left, he rolled up the map as well as the poem, tucking them under his arm and leaving no trace of what you witnessed behind. He had something to hide, it was clear, but you couldn’t decipher the meaning of the passage you read.

Perhaps he was simply a writer. It would explain why he seemed defensive that you saw it, but it wouldn’t explain the map. He also didn’t seem the type to sit at his desk and meddle with written poetry. He was a Captain, and his priorities lied with the men on his ship and the thievery of neighboring villages.

Now left alone in the quarters, you willed yourself into the bath, sinking into the water. It wasn’t warm nor cold, but it was relaxing anyway, biting away the tension in your muscles. You were in desperate need of it, and you were grateful you and Price were at a standstill where he allowed you the pleasure.

While you tried to rid yourself of what you saw, it kept creeping in in waves, burdening you with questions unanswered. Even after you scrubbed away the caked dirt until your skin was raw and changed into clean garments that Price tugged out for you, the sense of unease never went away. You felt tainted, like a lingering darkness was coursing through your veins and oozing from your skin.

The garments you wore were large. They overtook your body, swallowing you whole, but they were much better in comparison to the rags that hung from your body, dirtied with nasty impurity. You didn’t know how to feel about the Captain after everything, but he was showing you humility, and that was enough for you right now. It was the best you could make out of being kidnapped by the four of them and thrown in a life of chaos and uncertainty.

As you tucked yourself into Price’s cot, you took one last glance to the maps that remained on the walls. None were like the one you had seen, not a scribble nor blotch tainting the paper. The one Price held was special, and you knew you’d be fighting tooth and nail in order to find out. Until then, you could let yourself relax. After all the torment you’d been through, you deserved a moment of peace before everything imploded once again.

[emmster]

Group shot in the market district

[meteraa]

Price: Y/N, did you make sure to buy the scones?

Y/N: What?

Price:The scones?

Y/N: Scones…?

Gaz: They call em “BiScUtS💅💅” in America

Y/N: That’s what you call them? Biscuits sound way better than some that sounds a like a traffic cone…

Gaz and Price: Gasps

[skauni]

They Had The Wrong Traitor….

!!WARNINGS!!: Torture, Explicit Descriptions, Gained Trauma, No Happy Ending.

They didn’t know.

How were they SUPPOSED to know..?

Two months ago, Task Force 1-4-1 realized they had a traitor amongst themselves. Someone giving information about them to Shadow Company. They didn’t know who, until all signs started to point to you. Since then has been hell.

They tied you to a cold metal chair with ropes so tight they rubbed your ankles and wrists raw. You still remembered the day it started. Waking up with a splitting headache in the cold, dim lighted, concrete room. A table in front of you. On it you saw a hammer, pliers, a metal bat, sets of knives—even a damn corkscrew.

That first day was hell. You shrieked at the top of your lungs that you were innocent as your main tormentor, Ghost, broke your fingers slowly. Knuckle. By. Knuckle. When you still didn't confess he took the pliers and slowly ripped your nails from your broken and mangled fingers. Making you scream louder in agony.

The rest of the days blurred. Hardly any food or water; just barely enough to keep you alive. Every time a wound scarred they re-opened it. Soap held your jaw open today as Ghost slowly ripped out your teeth. Your voice long gone from hours of shrieking before this. No fight left in you when their radio's crackled to life. "Soap, Ghost, hall. Now." Price spoke. His voice sounded uneasy.

When they left you tilted your head forward. Letting the blood from your removed teeth drip slowly from your lips. It was painful to breathe. Bruised, cracked, and maybe even broken ribs and a broken nose they kept targeting so it never healed. A broken hand and forearm from three harsh strikes of the hammer. Several deep gashes from some of the knives Ghost used on you. A dislocated kneecap from being bashed in by the metal bat.

You couldn’t hear what they talked about out in the hall. But you knew it was something shocking based on the dead silence that came after Price’s muffled voice. In all honesty, over these two months, you started thinking it was your fault this happened to you. Thinking it was your fault you were framed; you just made yourself too easy a target to frame as the traitor.

You heard rushing feet and the sound of vomiting in the trash can down the hall. You guessed Gaz since you heard Soap ask Price something, you heard Price’s gruff grunt and Ghost’s Manchester accent as he swore under his breath. Your eyes fluttered in exhaustion but snapped open on instinct as you heard the door open again. They’d caught the real traitor, a newer recruit who had everyone wrapped around her finger.

Price had entered the room.

“I didn’t do it…” You whispered hoarsely. Your captain nodded. “I know, Y/N… I know…” he whispered softly. You flinched as he unsheathed his knife from its holster, he moved slowly as he cut your hands and legs free. He tried to pick you up but you cried out. He carefully set you back down and radioed for a few medics. They arrived a short while later as Price kept you awake to be sure you couldn’t slip away before everyone could apologize at the very least.

The medics came soon enough and moved you carefully onto a gurney so as to avoid shattering any bones further. They moved you to the med bay as fast as possible to get your wounds tended to and disinfected. Ghost, Soap, Gaz, and Price all sat outside of the med bay as they listened to your agonized shrieks and whales of pain from the medics setting your already healing knuckles back in place.

It took a few hours after your corrective knee surgery for the boys to be allowed to finally see you. The medics said you’d be out for a few days so your body could regain a small bit of strength. None of the team wanted to leave your side. They all had set themselves up so they could sleep by the cot the medics placed you on. In and out, they would individually go on missions or go in pairs so two of them could still keep their eyes on you incase you woke up.

A few days turned into a few weeks. And you finally woke up. But not as easily as the team would have wished. A cold sweat soaking your forehead as you groaned in agony in your sleep until you woke up shrieking and tried to curl into yourself for comfort, only causing yourself more pain. The boys had to pin you down so the medic could inject the pain killer.

Through the times you were awake, you refused to let any of them remotely try to touch you. They could see it. The distance you put between yourself and them. The distrust in your eyes. The anger and hurt in your furrowed brow. You had trusted them with your life. And now you were beginning to think you should have never let your guard down. Not for one damn second. But a small part of you thought it was somehow your own fault…

Gaz spent the most time with you. No touching, just trying to get you to talk. Even if in anger. He was slowly piecing your trust in him back together bit by bit. When physical therapy came around you asked him to help you because your knee hurt too much to do it alone and the medic seemed busy with another soldier. The rest of the team saw this, beginning to hope they had a chance at forgiveness as well. They weren’t aware that you never forgave Gaz. You just trusted him enough to count him as a person you will let help you. Not a friend. And not a teammate. Not anymore.

Soap was the second to earn the right to help you, then Price not too long after that. Ghost… was a different story. All he did was glare at you, as if he still thought you were the traitor. To which you returned the hostility. He hadn’t let it show, but he was devastated. He wished he’d have never believed that false evidence. He couldn’t even look at you because all he saw was his work etched into your body. That was why he glared. It wasn’t meant for you, it was directed at his work that scarred your body.

When you could walk on your own without crutches, you went to Price in the break room where everyone was. Expression cold and dead serious as you handed him resignation papers. He froze. “You can’t… we need you on this team Y/N—“ he started but you cut him off. “Need? Or want me here because you loathe yourselves so much you need me to reassure you that you’re forgiven with my presence?” He staggered back. “I never forgave any of you.” You added.

“There isn’t a day we’ve woken up without regretting—“ he tried again. “You don’t get to play that card! Do you know how many times I woke up crying in agony from wounds that are already healed because of you four!? Oh, or how about the fact I can’t stand to be touched by ANYONE anymore!” You snapped back. “Y/N…” Price started to beg. “No. I hate you. All of you. For what you did to me. Don’t even contact me. If you have something to tell me, keep it to yourselves.”

The team was silent. You walked to your barracks and packed. Booked a flight back to your hometown. And walked out the doors of the base. Giving none of them the time of day to apologize or try to fix things between you and them. You hadn’t even told them you neglected to sleep most nights out of fear someone would come out of the shadows and beat you half to death again…

[baduzzxy]

dad!141 x mama!Reader series

okay, currently thinking about everyone cooing at dad!Gaz’s pretty baby girl, whenever he comes and picks up his lil cutie at the daycare, he gets comments on how “she has your whole face!” now and then,

and huffs a little laugh when mama!Reader adds a “yeah, it’s kinda disrespectful given that i carried her for 9 months” with a wide smile on your face.

despite having a face of an angel, your daughter matches dad!Gaz’s attitude completely, and it’s funny to see your little girl with her hands on her waist, mirroring her dad when both are having a “pout-off” (aka Kyle catching her chubby hands full of rocks she brought home from the park, she does it everytime).

and you almost hiccup from all the pent-up laughing when she develops a new fixation; ✨dad’s polo buttons✨ and he catches her pulling the buttons off of his button-ups, only to melt when she gives her that pretty lil pout and a tumble of “sorry’s”

can we give Gaz a break lol poor guy he don’t got any buttons left 😭😭😭😭

[deathsimage]

Task Force 141

[mrsparrasblog]

COD porn links

MDNI

I tried to add some more inclusive vids like male X male plus sized and fetishes

Kyle

He is mad at you for flirting with another guy

Dryhumping childhood best friend Kyle

Kyle fucks you while you're handcuffed

Sucking his dick after deployment

After he tells you I love you for the first time (mxm)

Kyle being a good boy

Kyle and his wife

Price

John teaches his rookies some respect (mxm)

You talked back Infront of the team ( god he looks so much like price - respectable drooling not from the mouth)

Husband Price

He apologised for being so long on Deployment

John price with his new insecure sergeant

Sucking older bf price

Price is hungry for your cunt

Simon

Simon uses your cum as lube (male X male)

You're not allowed to cum (mxm)

Pre military Simon fucking his first girlfriend

Just the tip love

Simon always loved them bigger

Soap

The minute he comes back from deployment (male X male)

Johnny in lingerie

The video Johnny shows when someone asks how you look

(never shows your face but your cunt is okay -idiot)

Johnny has a foot fetish

Johnny loves you

Please let me play with your tits

Johnny is a needy bastard

Extra

The video you got after sending them a nude

But why does it give Johnny and Simon "we're just friends" vibes

Threesome with Simon and Johnny

Johnny getting himself off in the barracks

Sunshine and price from my fanfic

Valeria and Alejandro sharing you

[celestialprincesse]

whilst I'm hyperfixating on dolls, thinking about protective childhood best friend Gaz💕🎀

His feelings had started off strictly platonic, protective over the quiet girl next door, who barely spoke up in class, and was generally an outcast due to her being perceived as 'weird' for enjoying picking flowers as to playing sports, and trawling antique shops instead of partying.

As you'd grown up alongside each other, that sentiment had only strengthened. He still so vividly remembers the day he came home to you sat on his porch step, a broken doll, a Blythe that you'd spent hours customising with such love, broken to bits. He'd obviously done the rational thing - spent weeks working in his dad's garage to fix her up, getting his mum to help him sew her teeny tiny dress back up, even asking around the pharmacy for if they sold 'those stick on eyelashes', to the amusement of most of the Boots staff.

To this day, he credits your prompting, and his mums patience for his emergency suturing skills. And Blythe, of course.

He's since made a habit of contributing to your collection, somehow acquiring originals from the seventies still in their boxes, or buying customs that you're sure sell for copious amounts of money. He wasn't there to protect you and your precious doll once, so he'll be sure to make up for it every day since. There's no weirdness about it either. To him, it's cute.

However, when you'd started dating...

Of course, he still had no problem with the collection of little you's on various shelves throughout the house. Save for the bedroom Blythe, lingering on the dresser like some freaky, big headed little guardian angel, who he's convinced is sending him bad juju every time he tries to get nasty with you. Her creator. Mary Shelley type shit.

It becomes second nature for him to turn her around as soon as the two of you go stumbling into the bedroom.

And he begs you to put her in the closet when you go to sleep.

Turns out your SAS boyfriend who's been supporting your collection for years is fucking scared of dolls.

Kyle 'gaz' 'bad Blythe bruja' Garrick

[starsofang]

fwb!gaz who just so happens to be the one who does your piercings.

it didn’t start out with the two of you fucking with no strings attached, no. in fact, it was the same shop where you first met gaz at the beginning of your piercing journey.

it was friendly at first. he was gentle when giving you your first piercing, talking you through it, praising you for taking it like a champ. then when you came back for another, gaz happened to be the only piercer available. the third one you returned for had you suspicious when yet again, he was free to do it.

nonetheless, the two of your formed a harmless bond the more you showed up for a new piercing. the flirting was always reciprocated between the two of you, but gaz remained professional, much to your disappointment.

it wasn’t until you returned to the shop for the nth time with the request for nipple piercings did gaz fold. he was unfocused, quiet, and not to mention the tent that was very clearly uncomfortable in his pants. you’d made a lame joke about how he must’ve gotten an accidental boner when all the women came for nipple piercings, and he’d grumbled about how no, it was just you.

you had hoped it would lead to something, but gaz, despite the flirtatious remarks he showered you with every chance he got, remained stuck in his ways of being a professional, that it would be inappropriate.

however, when you made the bold decision to ask for a clit piercing only weeks later, all resolve on gaz’s end crumbled. you weren’t even able to get the piercing you came for, too occupied with your knees to tour chest and gaz’s cock slipping in and out of you at an aggressive pace, satisfying the aching buildup he’d been tormented with of not being able to fuck you before.

of course, you never had to spend another dime on your piercings. not when you’d collapse like putty into his hands every session.

[emmster]

POV you’re at a pub and three guys ask you to take a picture and you capture a Ghost on it

[meteraa]

Price: Y/n…what is this.

Soap: are yer kiddin me?

Y/N: it’s pride cake cuz it pride month and yall all gay n shit. I also got Johnny a ball gag!

Soap: Why me?!

Y/N: Simon says he wanted to get you one.

Simon: I ain’t say shit.

Y/N: Did too!

Nik: I’m leaving—

Gaz: is it atleast whipped frosting?

Price: *sighs*

[wishfuldivine]

This screams Gaz and you cannot fucking tell me otherwise! The way some of the COD fandom do this is plain disgusting.

[skauni]

Ghost: “I accidentally took my cat’s medicine last night.”

Price: “You have a cat?”

Soap: *Knows it’s a joke.*

Gaz: “How did you—???”

Ghost: “Don’t ask me-ow.”

Price: *Dies laughing like the old smoker he is.*