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lemonkeiku · 1 year ago

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After Ending - Chapter 1 : Bitter Pill

Summary : Soap's death brought a storm of grief to certain people. Freya, an international mercenary who knew Soap well, was no exception. She's determined to find out what really happened to Soap.

Words count: 3,765

On this chapter include: Alex Keller and Farah Karim

Warnings: alternate universe, soap's death is canon here and he's already dead since the begining, call of duty: mobile character.

⚠ Important note ⚠ Freya is originally a character from Call of Duty: Mobile with name Vagr Modir. With the limited lore and background since it came from the mobile game, I created most of the lore and background myself, including the original name. The only things I used from the original character were the character's appearance description and nickname. The point is I don't know if I can call her as my original character or not.

24 NOVEMBER 2023 NORWAY – FREYA “VAGR MODIR” PETTERSEN

“Modir... Soap is dead.”

What the hell, she thought.

She didn't know what to think. It was almost impossible for her to react to such shocking news, in fact it was difficult for her to even comprehend it. But of course, the first thing that came to her mind was that it was kinda nonsense. She just talked to Soap a few days ago–maybe a week.

He sounded perfectly fine to her at that time. He might have sounded upset, but everything he said seemed fine. The last time she'd talked to Soap, he'd asked her a few things, but nothing concerning. They'd even had time to catch up, since they hadn't spoken in a while. It had been their first conversation in a long time. And now it was their last? She tried to recall the last conversation with Soap. About what they discussed and what things he asked, in case she could find clues as to how Soap had ended up like that. But unfortunately nothing came up, like she couldn't remember anything.

“He died here. In London,” they added.

She paused, trying to figure out what kind of answer she could give them. Her mind was now filled with a multitude of questions and doubts. Her heart stopped beating for a moment before it started pounding again. She tried to pull herself together as she tried to catch her breath, which now felt so heavy. Hot steam blew out of her mouth along with the wind, which felt colder from thirty minutes ago. The once clear sky was now overcast, blocking out the sun's warming rays.

On the other hand, Fenrir, one of her pet wolves who had been sitting beside her the entire time, knew her enough to understand that Freya was upset. He noticed the change in his mother's expression, tilting his head as if asking what was wrong. Freya, who noticed it, could only rub the top of his head.

She let out a heavy breath once more.

“Oh, is that so?” her response eventually. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

She hung up immediately, without waiting for any response from the other end.

She remained silent for a while, standing still at the top of the hill, gazing impassively at the expanse of the forest. Part of her wanted to deny it, maybe most of it wanted to deny it. For all she knew, Soap was a tough guy. Didn’t mean he was immortal but it was almost impossible to think that someone like him could die just like that. But she had to realise that the message came from one of her most trusted informants. It couldn't be fake, no matter how many times Freya refused to believe it.

She quickly used her phone again, trying to dial the last number she knew to be Soap's. The call rang for a few moments and Freya hoped that someone would pick up. Her mind could not settle, her body could not stay still as she spun restlessly in place, waiting for the phone to ring. She hoped Soap would pick up.

“It's John. I can't get y’call, try again later o’ leave a message.”

The call went straight to voicemail. Of course, she should have known better that there was no way that anyone was going to answer. Even if Freya tried several times, the result would be the same and by knowing it, it felt hurt. It was hurt like someone stabbed a dagger straight to her chest and hit her kneecaps until she could barely support her own weight. She tried to lean on a nearby tree to stay on her feet. Fenrir became concerned and tried to help her as well.

It hurts even more just to think about it. She could no longer hide her expression, especially from Fenrir. That wolf could read her face so easily. She wondered if he would understand if Freya told him about Soap.

“I guess we won’t see Soap again.” Her voice sounded as if it had no strength left. Almost as if she had given up, although she still tried to deny it. “I know you always miss him.”

Fenrir whimpered in response, as if he understood what she was saying.

Eventually she started to walk away with the black wolf, leaving her favourite spot and heading into the woods. She picked up her phone–again and called another number. She still didn't want to believe it, of course, so she had to do something to check the truth. This time the phone was answered.

“Hey, you busy?” Freya greeted, matter-of-factly.

“Not really,” replied the person on the other end of the phone. “What’s up? You need a ride?”

“Yeah, can you take me to Urzikstan?” she asked.

“It depends. When do you want to go?”

“Soon,” Freya replied with certainty. “Don't worry about the pay. I'll pay you more if you can take me sooner.”

“Heh, I never worry about that with you. No problem, I'll drop you off early in the morning. You know where to go.”

After getting the deal, Freya quickly hung up the phone. In truth, she didn't have the energy to say much more than that either. Her mind was still on the news of Soap's death as she walked on through the trees. She tried to find the most plausible cause of Soap's death.

Who killed him? And how? These questions kept swirling around in her head.

She wanted to come back as soon as possible for several reasons. Especially when she witness how the weather had changed. The air grew colder with every step she took. The weather was supposed to be nice today, Freya had checked the weather report. But for some reason the sky was changing rapidly. It felt like a storm was coming. Even though it hadn't snowed yet, winter was just around the corner.

By the time she arrived at her house, the whole pack of her children had gathered. They were smart enough to understand that the weather was deteriorating. He led them quickly into their makeshift cave, making sure they would be safe no matter what happened tonight. They probably wouldn't sleep tonight. If the weather didn't get any worse, they would probably go out anyway.

After she had made sure that all of her children were all inside, she went into her own home, with Fenrir following her. That black wolf was indeed a big exception. He immediately sat down in front of the fireplace, which was his favourite spot, as Freya began to prepare her things for the next trip.

She had to confirm that Soap was really dead. She knew the only person she could ask, and that was what this trip was about. But it had been a long time since she had seen that person, who knew how he was going to react when Freya showed up.

26 NOVEMBER 2023U.L.F. MAIN BASE, URZIKSTAN – ALEX KELLER

The atmosphere at the base was tense recently. After Makarov's attempt to blame the ULF for the attack on the Russian plane, they knew that Makarov would not stop pitting them against each other and stirring up trouble. Even after Shepherd acknowledged the ULF's effort to form an alliance with the US, the threat to peace in Urzikstan would not go away.

This problem was not lost on Alex. He couldn't stop thinking of new ways to prevent the outbreak of war in Urzikstan. After Farah's return, the situation at the base became even more alarming. It has kept Alex awake for the past few days.

Like today, Alex didn't spend the nights in his room anymore. He was sure that he wouldn't be able to sleep tonight, so he decided to stand guard at one of the sentry posts with only a cup of black coffee. He knew he probably wouldn't get much out of his watch, nor did he really expect anything to happen. But at least he had something to do with his time. He really didn't need any more threats.

His eyes scanned the vast expanse of the desert. There wasn't much to see considering how dark it was out there, but at least the moon was shining brightly tonight. After standing for almost two hours, he finally decided to pull up a nearby chair and sit down facing outwards. He took occasional sips of his coffee, hoping the caffeine would keep him awake.

Alex had just placed his coffee cup on the table when he heard the creaking of the wooden floor echoing in his ears. He immediately got out of his chair and turned towards the source of the sound, searching for the cause, when a figure of someone standing outside the window. It was dark outside, making it difficult to see the figure clearly. The door of the post office was not closed, so it was easy for the figure to enter.

Strangely, Alex did not react or even take action against the stranger who appeared without any sign or even annoucement. He just stood still and watched as the figure approached him from the outside. It was as if Alex could make out the figure that was only a silhouette at the moment.

“Alex," the figure greeted. "Been a while, huh?”

The voice sounded so familiar. Especially when combined with the silhouette of the figure, Alex knew very well who it was. His memory immediately gave him the answer before he could ask himself.

“Mother!” Alex almost shouted.

His eyes blinked repeatedly, as if trying to make sure what he was seeing was real. Alex couldn't hide his surprise. She was a person Alex had known 3 years ago and he had never imagined that he would meet her again, let alone appear here.

“You look like someone who's seen a ghost.” Her voice made him shiver as he couldn’t guess why she was here. Her unpredictable tone didn't give him any clue, nor did her expression.

“How can't I ?” he responded. “A dead person shouldn’t be walking around.”

His answer left a small grin on her face as she walked toward the light, finally showing her face to him.

Seeing her standing there made Alex uneasy. She was a person who should have died 3 years ago, it seemed natural for Alex to be so cautious. His eyes could not escape the woman he knew as Vagr Modir, the Wolf Mother. As hard as it was to figure her out, Alex had to at least get some idea of why she was here.

“You should confirm by yourself next time.” Again, her voice sounded calm, but with a slight joking tone this time.

“How did you find me?”

“That was easy. You don’t have to know the details.”

“Then... What brought you here?” he asked, trying to remain calm. He put his hands on his waist, trying not to provoke her, so she knew he wouldn't do anything stupid. “Surely not to ask how I'm doing, right?”

“What’s wrong with catching up with an old friend?” She took a few steps around the room, as if scanning her surroundings. Her eyes wandered here and there before returning to Alex.

“We know that doesn't sound like you.”

“Did I really not leave a good impression on you?”

“Not at all.”

“That’s a shame.” She crossed her arms on top of her chest. “I'm here to confirm the death of someone else. I'm sure only you can give me that.”

“Who?” he was puzzled.

“A friend of ours, Soap. I was told that he was dead.”

“What are you talking about?”

This was the second time Alex had been caught off guard. This time it even caused him to let his guard down drastically. For a moment he wondered if he had heard wrong or if Modir was lying to him. He had plenty of reasons why he couldn’t trust her. He hadn't heard anything about it. If it was really someone from 141's death, he should know by now. But by the serious look on Modir's face, she might be right.

“You know exactly what I was talking about,” she argued. “I got a report, Soap was killed. No details, that's why I came to you. You should have heard about it.”

“Who's your intel?”

“It doesn't matter.”

“Then how would I know if it is true?”

“I wouldn't fly this far if I couldn't trust them, would I?”

“Fair enough.” Alex rubbed his face out of disbelief. This kind of information managed to keep him more awake than strong black coffee. “Well then... if it is true, I guess the news travelled faster to Norway.”

“So you really don't know?”

“The last thing we know, Soap and his team were in London. But I can look into it, see if your intel is reliable.”

“My intel is always reliable, Alex. I just need confirmation from you,” Modir insisted.

Their conversation was interrupted for a moment when they both heard the rumbling sound of someone climbing the wooden stairs of the guard post. It seemed strange, considering that Alex had not heard any footsteps when Modir had appeared.

The footsteps stopped as Farah reached the door. She had a look as if she was out of breath, as if she was in a hurry to find Alex.

“Hey Alex, we got some—” Her words were cut off when she noticed Modir was there, who was an unidentified figure. “Who is this?”

Alex could see the change in Farah's expression, she became alarmed as her hand almost pulled her gun from its holster. A reasonable reaction in Alex's opinion but he couldn’t let that happen.

“It’s okay, Farah. She's…” he hung on his words, trying to find the right one. “She’s a friend.”

It was clear that Farah didn't immediately believe it. But Alex had to try to convince Farah so that there would be no unwanted conflict.

“And what brings your friend here?” she demanded.

Alex tried to exchange glances with Modir. He didn't know what to expect when he looked at her, but Modir gave him no clues. Whether or not he could tell Farah about the news of Soap's death that neither of them had even heard.

“She said Soap is dead. She's here to confirm it,” he replied, almost hesitated.

Farah reacted as soon as she heard. But her reaction was a little different than Alex had expected. Her eyes were wide open, as if surprised, but her expression was as if she hadn't heard the news for the first time.

“How did you…”

“Is it true, Farah?” he asked, emphasising.

Farah sighed as her shoulders slumped, no longer tense. Her face became sad, with a furrowed brow and a mournful look. Alex should have been able to tell from Farah's expression that Soap was indeed dead. She no longer needs to explain.

“I just got a call from Price. Soap was killed a few days ago. I was about to tell you that.”

Now Alex knew that it was true. He still wanted to question how Modir knew before them, but it didn’t matter anymore. There was no response from Modir for a few moments, but Alex could see that she was clenching her jaw. As if Farah's confirmation was not something she had expected.

“Is it Makarov?” Modir questioned, again, like she already knew and asked just to make sure.

Farah didn't say anything at first, just stared at Alex. She obviously still didn't believe Modir, a stranger who had come out of nowhere. Alex could not trust Modir completely. He did not know her true intentions. But if she was going to do something to threaten him, Alex was sure she would have done it sooner.

With a nod of his head, he tried to reassure Farah. “You can tell her, Farah.”

“Yes. He was killed when he tried to stop him,” Farah eventually answered.

“Thank you,” Modir said. “Sorry for coming unannounced. I hope I didn't take up too much of your time.”

Modir immediately turned around and left the room through the door. He didn't even give Alex or Farah a chance to say anything. This time the sound of her steps could be heard, rushing down the stairs.

“Wait—Mother! Stop!” He tried to stop her, leaving Farah alone in that room. He ran down the stairs, trying to catch up with Modir before that woman disappeared just like how she came.

She went straight to the outside of the barrier. By the time Alex had almost caught up with her, Modir was already on a bike, preparing to leave. Alex had shouted at her several times, but Modir had no intention of stopping as she started her bike.

With no choice, Alex immediately jumped in front of Modir's bike. He pulled out his gun and even pointed it at Modir to stop her from riding away. Thankfully it worked, Modir didn't move–or at least she didn't ride off and hit Alex.

“I said, stop!” he commanded.

“You won’t shoot me,” she challenged him.

“And yet you stay.”

It took some time for the two of them to work out their egos. Alex was still pointing his gun straight at Modir, unwilling to move or even lower his weapon. Meanwhile, with both hands still on her bike, Modir was not about to give up her intention either.

But at the end it was Modir who gave in. It didn't take long for her to change her mind. At least for a moment. She took both hands off the bike and sat upright to show that this time she was listening to Alex. She also turned off her bike as a sign of good intentions.

“What do you want?” she asked bluntly. “You can lower your weapon. I'm not that stupid to run you over.”

Alex hesitated at first, but decided to listen to Modir's words and slowly lowered his weapon. By her tone alone, his curiosity outweighed his doubts about Modir and made him willing to lower his guard a little. He also took the opportunity to keep his weapon before beginning to speak.

“Why are you here?” he interrogated her.

“To confirm Soap’s death.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I want to know if he’s really dead and your Commander just confirmed it.”

“What else?”

“What do you mean “what else”? Wasn't that clear enough for you?”

“Of course not,” he was being doubtful. “Do you really expect me to believe that you're just here to confirm Soap's death?”

Modir raised one of her eyebrows. “And I left right after I got the confirmation. I’m sure it was pretty clear. Can I go?”

He didn't really like it, but he had to admit that it made sense, even if the rest didn't.

“Now you got your confirmation. What are you going to do about it?”

“I don't think it's any of your business.”

“It is!” he grunted. “You can't just barge into my base and leave without any explanation. You were lucky Farah didn't shoot you up there.”

Modir sighed loudly, her jaw tensing as her forehead creased. Her eyes were now fixed on Alex, and he could sense the woman's frustration. But here, too, Alex was annoyed because he was not getting a clear answer from Modir.

“You'd better stay out of my way, Alex. I'm no threat to you if that is what you worry about. Unless you’d try to hold me back, I’d have no second thought to fucking shoot your head . Now, move!”

At this point, Alex had no reason to continue to stand in Modir's way. True, he had gotten no explanation, but Modir herself had assured him that she was no threat. At least for now. Eventually, he stepped aside from the front of her bike and let Modir go. He took a moment to stare at the woman as she drove away, until she was out of sight.

He went back to his post when Farah was standing at the bottom of the stairs. He was not sure if she had seen or even heard his conversation with Modir.

“Alex… Who is she?” she asked right away.

“An acquaintance.”

“From the CIA?”

Alex shook his head. “No, no... She’s a mercenary. We crossed paths once,” he tried to explain. “We worked together– short of. Well… at least not at first.”

The two of them walked up the stairs, back into the room. It was Alex who invited Farah to continue their conversation inside. He knew she must have many questions. It would also be better if no one overheard their next conversation. He closed the door behind him as soon as Farah walked through it.

“So what does she have to do with Soap?” She crossed her arms.

“Soap was there with me. Y’know… That one time I went to Alaska.” Alex took the chair he previously used and sat there. “I never expected she would show up here.”

“Why is that?”

“The last time I met her was 3 years ago in Alaska. More importantly, she was supposed to be dead. She was reported K.I.A. during that time.”

Alex would never forget his first and last meeting with Modir. Especially the last moment when he witnessed how Modir was killed in front of him. As Modir said before, he did not check whether Modir was really dead or not, he just received the report that Modir was K.I.A..

After seeing Modir alive and appearing at the ULF headquarters, Alex couldn't stop thinking about a few things. When Modir appeared earlier, he thought that she had come for him with bad intentions. Even when she questioned him about Soap's death, Alex thought she had other plans about it.

It felt as if the adrenaline was still pumping, his heart was still pounding and even his hands were sweating in their gloves. He had good reason to be anxious. He thought Modir was coming to kill him.

“Are you planning to inform Price about her?” she asked.

Alex was silent. He thought about whether it was necessary to tell others. Apart from the fact that Modir didn't ask about anything other than Soap's death, she didn't mention anything about the team either.

He thought so hard that his forehead furrowed and he sniffed the air from behind his moustache.

“Let’s keep this between us for now. I don’t think she’ll be a threat to them.”

Thank you for reaching the end of first chapter 💕💕 I really hope you like it and excited for the next chapter^^

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forsworned · 5 months ago

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Being the only female on TF141 is like Simon constantly scolding you for getting into sheningans with Johnny and Kyle while Price sits on his arm chair with a good book, whiskey in hand and him puffing out smoke like a chimney from his cigar like the daddy he is.

"Delete it."

"Why?"

"Cos I fockin' said so."

You cock an amused brow at him as you look up from the embarrassingly cute photo of the skull-masked behemoth fast sleep and cuddling your Hello Kitty plushie. "Cos y'fockin' said so?" You mock his gravelly Manchester accent and it sends Johnny and Kyle into a fit of giggles. And even Price is chuffed by it. It's contagious really.

It lets your guard down enough for him to yank your phone out of your hand deleting the picture with a swiftness that made your eyes ream and your heart jump. You all groan and jeer at him for being a poor sport but he's quite satisfied with himself. Little does he know, you have a few copies of it in your desktop.

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skauni · 7 months ago

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Can’t stop thinking about Soap calling himself ‘Uncle Johnny’ around your kids but they consider him a dad because that’s how he acts:

When your friend John MacTavish found out that your boyfriend dumped you after you got pregnant, he was right by your side for all of it. Saying “Dunnae worry, Bonny. Uncle Johnny’s gonna help with the wee bairns.”

And he did. He was there the whole pregnancy, even went as far as moving in so you could rest and he could keep an eye on you.

When you went into labor, he was there. He was there for everything. From the birth of your twins, Aster and Cody, to the sleepless nights after, he was there. You even heard him in the middle of the night telling them “Dunnae worry wee ones, Uncle Johnny’s here. Nothin’ t’fear.” And you loved how dedicated he was to helping you.

When the boys got old enough to talk, you were unfortunate enough to witness the fact that they spoke their first words in Scottish accents. Just like John. It wasn’t bad, it just meant you had a hard time understanding them is all.

When you couldn’t watch them, he would. Saying “Let Uncle Johnny watch the wee lads.”

But, as soon as the boys called him ‘Dad’ for the first time, he looked at you eagerly and said “I suppose Uncle Johnny is becoming the Papa of these wee lads, aye Bonny?” He said to you. You blushed at the comment and looked away in flustered embarrassment.

#call of duty #cod #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #soap mactavish #soap call of duty #soap cod #soap x reader #soap mw2 #cod john mactavish #john mactavish x reader #sergeant johnny mactavish #johnny mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x you

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luxcuriousao3 · 22 days ago

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Task Force 141 + The Best They've Ever Had

Just thinking about you being the best fuck the boys have ever had.

warnings: smut (obvi), piv, oral (f and m receiving), unprotected sex, protected sex, fingering, briefly mentioned s/m but no actual s/m, reader is kinda a fuck boy (fuck girl?), slight hint of dacryphillia if you squint maybe, no use of y/n

Gaz

You go for Gaz first—he's the prettiest, and he's incredibly smooth. He charms you easily, makes you comfortable enough to invite him back to your place despite having just met that night. He's all confidence and no arrogance. He knows he looks good and he knows he fucks good. He's sure he's going to blow your mind, leave you aching for more…

Instead, you give him head so good his climax comes early, his come flooding your mouth. A broken moan leaves him when you swallow and look up at him through your lashes, a sweet, innocent smile on your face, but your eyes are sultry enough to get a man hard in seconds. His spent cock twitches valiantly, but his orgasm was so strong that he knows he won’t be able to go again for hours.

He’s incredibly embarrassed, but he tries not to show it, and gets you off twice in apology—once with his fingers and once with his mouth. You see him out at the end of the night. He was hoping to stay longer, perhaps get to fuck you after all, but you’re a busy woman, and you’ve got things to do early tomorrow morning.

Gaz doesn’t tell the rest of the boys about this particular hookup, knowing he’d never hear the end of it from Soap—but he keeps the memory of it close for long, lonely missions.

Price

Perhaps surprisingly, Price is your next victim hookup. He doesn’t get out much, but you manage to catch him on one of his rare nights off.

He takes you back to his place, a small but neat flat not far from the base he’s stationed at. There’s a fine layer of dust on all of the furniture, showing how rarely he’s home, and he’s amused by you jokingly asking if he’s actually breaking you into someone else’s apartment.

He pours you both a glass of wine, and you talk for a while as you drink, continuing to get to know one another. Well, it’s really just him getting to know you—he’s a private man, and he knows how to talk without actually saying much—but he finds that he doesn’t mind that. You’re quite a talented speaker, genuine and animated about every topic that comes to mind. Your little quirks and mannerisms only make you more attractive.

Once both your glasses are empty, and the two of you have drifted close enough to touch, he cups your chin in one hand and leans down to kiss you. He can feel you smile against his lips, and you pull away with a little giggle that makes his brows raise in curiosity.

“Your beard tickles,” you tell him, before sitting up a little more so you can kiss him again. It’s endlessly endearing, and he can’t stop himself from deepening the kiss, his cock chubbing up in his jeans. He’s eager to find out if his beard will tickle your cunt, too.

Not too long later, he gets his answer—a resounding yes—as well as discovers a new addiction. You taste like heaven, like well aged whiskey, like his favorite brand of cigars, and he suddenly realizes he no longer wants to die in the field in some fiery blaze of glory.

He’d much rather you just smother him with your cunt.

Unfortunately, he has a duty to his country, so he reluctantly shifts you off of him so he can breathe. It’s for the best, really, because he’s about to come just from eating you out. You don’t give him a chance to rest, though, moving down his body and sinking down onto his hard cock. You both gasp at the same time—Price from the pleasure, and you from the stretch. Clearly, you hadn’t realized just how thick he was, and now you’re tearing up and pouting while sat on his cock. He shushes you sweetly, stroking your cheek and rubbing your clit, enamored by the adorable picture you make. Soon enough, the sting fades, and you start riding him like your life depends on it. He plays with your tits the whole time, sucking and licking your nipples, his hands on your hips guiding your movements.

When he comes, it’s pure ecstasy. He’s never felt this good before, not even with his ex-wife. He knows then that he wants to keep you—and he can only hope that his seed filling your sweet pussy takes root deep in your womb.

Silly you forgot to put a condom on him, and of course, he didn’t see any reason to remind you. You sigh when you realize, and mutter something about getting the morning after pill. His grip tightens on your hips for a second, but he forces himself to relax. It’s only eighty percent effective, he tells himself. There’s still a chance.

Ghost

You meet Ghost next. You see him at the bar, all broad shoulders, bulky muscles, and towering height. But what makes you throw caution to the wind is the mask. You sidle on up to him, give him your signature sweet smile when he looks you up and down, and don’t let it phase you when he just grunts in reply to your greeting. It takes longer than it usually would to get Ghost back to your apartment—most guys are raring to go once you give them the signal—but after a few gentle touches, one long winded ramble about a topic you’re passionate about, and a couple shots, he gets that familiar look of want in his dark eyes, and you know you’ve got him, hook, line, and sinker.

You don’t expect him to be a gentleman, but he insists on making you come on his fingers before he even takes his clothes off. It’s actually really fucking hot, and you’re even more eager than usual to return the favor. You sink down to your knees to try and suck him off, but he effortlessly hoists you back up and tosses you onto the bed, slowly undoing his belt and pulling it off. You spread your legs wide for him and bite your lip, half hoping he’ll snap the belt against your cunt or bind your wrists with it. Instead, he tosses it aside, opens up his fly, rolls on the condom, and presses inside you. He’s fucking massive, and you grasp one of his hands in yours as you whimper and whine through the stretch. He goes slow, at least until you’re adjusted—and then he’s obeying your demands as you order him to give it to you harder, faster, more, more, more.

Ghost has to keep stopping to just grind into you, because the way your tits bounce as he rails you, the sounds you’re making, and the tight, hot, wet grip of your pussy is too fucking much. He’s never been one for hookups really, hasn’t fucked anyone in ages, but there was something about you. Pretty face, beautiful body, and clearly into him, even with the mask—it’s not something he experiences often. He’s struck with the sudden urge to pull off the mask and kiss your lips, swallow every gorgeous gasp and moan you let out—but he can’t, won’t, so instead he buries his face in your neck, panting harshly as he thrusts into you, hard and fast, just like you’re begging for.

When it’s over, and he’s filled the condom with a frankly concerning amount of come, he stays buried deep in your pussy, with you pinned beneath him, his face still tucked into your neck. He doesn’t want to move, and the fact that you seem content to let him stay like that only makes him want you more.

When you finally shift like you want to get up, he has to fight the overwhelming urge to just ignore you. Instead, he finally pulls out of you and sits up, letting his eyes rove every inch of you as he does up his trousers. That little smile you give him makes his heart stutter, and he's torn between fleeing and begging you to let him stay.

You make the decision for him, thanking him for a great fuck and asking him if he needs you to call him an Uber.

Pride stinging and chest aching, Ghost walks back to the barracks.

Soap

Soap’s a stray dog that just wants a forever home. A handsome, lonely, loveable, eager mutt. So when he’s pounding into you in the back seat of your car because he was too excited to wait till you got back to your place, moaning and grunting and whining like the puppy he is, the words just slip out.

“Want ye, want ye tae be mine, please bonnie, want ye all fer myself.”

You coo at him, finding how pussy drunk he is adorable, and thread your fingers through his mohawk to pull him in for a kiss. He groans into your mouth as he comes, humping you through the aftershocks of his orgasm. You giggle, pulling back to nibble at his stubbled jaw as he pants in your ear.

“So?” He asks, voice wrecked but hopeful, and you feel a little bad when you realize his words weren’t just dirty talk. “What aboot it, lamb? Will ye be mine?”

“My pussy that good?” You tease him, trying to let him down easily. You can tell he realizes, his eyes tightening just a little in disappointment before his expression smooths back over into the cocky one he’d charmed his way into your pants with.

“Best I’ve ever had,” he answers, and you can hear the truth of it in his voice, even as he winks at you, holding up a two fingered salute. “Scot’s honor.”

“Pretty sure it’s scout’s honor,” you correct him, but he just smirks and shakes his head.

“Nah,” he says. “Scot’s honor is better. We’re a loyal bunch.”

And Christ, but he’d be a loyal dog to you, if only you’d keep him.

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mrsparrasblog · 10 months ago

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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

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lologoinsolo · 2 months ago

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Haunted House Masterlist

A fun little idea that’s very quickly written. Apologies for mistakes, I should be sleeping but brain wouldn’t allow.

Your alarm is blaring. It’s loud and obnoxious and screams for you to wake. You don’t want to but you have to “seize the day” as one would say. You turn to your side and hit snooze though, shutting it up and deciding that five more minutes won’t hurt. You had such a wonderful dream that you want to get back to it. It was about you being rich and never having to work another day in your life.

“Yer gonna be late again for work, lass.”

Your eyes pop open as you scream, balling your fist and punching the man that lays down on your bed. Your fist phases right on through though and he laughs so loudly that you wished you could actually hit him.

“Ah, ouch, lass. That hurt.” He feigns pain, rubbing his face and he grins like the Cheshire Cat itself.

“Johnny,” you rub your temples. Your want for sleeping in is fleeting, “how many times do I have to tell you. The beds off limits.” Glaring at your ghostly companion.

“Ye said, Johnny, make sure I stay awake even when my alarm goes off,” he mimics your voice horribly, really laying on an abnormally high pitch to make you wish you couldn’t hear. He places a hand against his cheek and the other comes around to tap your forehead. You shiver when you can feel the cool sensation, you’ve never gotten used to that. “S’not my fault ye keep sleepin’ in.”

“Yeah, yeah,” flinching when your alarm goes off once more. You groan even louder than before as you turn the alarm off. You sit and rub your face till it hurts. “Alright,” you feel his hand pressing and nudging on your back. You swipe at him like a hissing cat and tumble off your welcoming, warm bed. He laughs and lays still as you move around sluggishly. You walk out of your room even when you can hear your bed weeping for you and head to your kitchen.

Grabbing a tea bag, a mug, and pouring water from the sink in it before placing it in the microwave. Pressing the buttons and you watch the light flicker on the mug spinning slowly. There’s a growing heavy weight against your back, it press well against your shoulder and even when you try to shove him away. He doesn’t budge, a mountain of cold, hard steel that doesn’t move even when you say his name. “Simon,” you whine, trying to push him away but alas, your hands phase through him just like it did with Johnny.

“You need a kettle,” he says with so much disappointment in his brown eyes. There’s an atrocity happening before him, actually it’s happened many times. You’ve flat out refused to even boil the water on at least a pot. “I feel like I’m dying again just watching this.” He leans ever more and you’re damn near fused to your counter.

“Okay, okay,” the microwave beeps and you open it to grab your mug. Wincing and trying to hold the hot ceramic handle without it peeling your skin off. “I’ll buy a kettle this time around.” You say as you have many times over, “can you move? Please?” You hear him sigh like he’s suffering and he leaves. Disappears off into the nether and probably won’t come back until you pour him a glass of his favorite whiskey as an apology. “Fucking Brit’s.” Grumbling your annoyance as you dump your sugar and stir it in the cooling liquid. Not even bothering to blow as you drink it. You don’t really get the difference but somehow it’s always an offense when Simon sees you do that.

“He’s right,” John sits on your recliner. A cigar in hand and even though he’s as ghostly as the others he manages to find a way to smoke in your house. “That’s no way to drink a tea.” Of course he’d jump in on this, though you think he might only do that just to get a rise out of you.

“Buy me a kettle and make me a tea.” Holding the mug against your face. Drinking it defiantly and Kyle comes through a wall as quickly as you say that.

“You banned us from making drinks or food.” Holding a finger out as he nods in making his point. John grunts in agreement, smoke somehow puffing around in swirls.

“For good reason, Kyle.” The last time they tried to do anything it was a mess. And not in the incompetent way but more in the paranormal why is everything floating kinda way. “There was tomato sauce splattered on my ceiling! The ceiling,” placing your mug down on the counter. “I had to get a ladder to clean it.”

“Didnae ken that would happen when I touched the damn thing.” You hear Johnny somewhere in the room but have yet to spot him. Probably hovering in a dark spot as usual when he plans on scaring you by grabbing you. He seems miffed about the incident since he’s the main reason why they’re all banned. “Ye were sick at the time. We just wanted to help.”

That makes you feel a little guilty. Your ghosts do try to help around as much as they can but sometimes their paranormalness doesn’t always work well in your house nor around objects. So far they’ve been able to touch you with no problem but with other things though… somtimes they will float or get weird with the temperature, your hairbrush has been freezing cold here lately… one of them probably snooped around your bathroom again. You’ve gotten as used to your roommates as best as you can. Your ability allows you to see and hear hem as clear as day while others can’t. It’s a blessing and a curse with your wonderful little ability despite the learning curve.

The curve being that there’s ghosts in your house.

“Ah, shit,” Kyle pulls you from your thoughts. “You need to hurry, you’re gonna be running late again.” Kyle, ever the one to keep you on your goals quickly points that out as he looks at the time.

“Oh, son of a bitch!” You fly down the hall back to your room to get dressed. Forgoing buying breakfast on the way even when John yells for you to do so. You hobble to get your shoes on and nearly roll out your door to get to your car. Not even bothering to lock your house since your ghostly apparitions won’t allow an intruder to do harm. You slam your foot on the gas after reversing and drive off to your job. Blasting music down the road to get your mood right for the next eight hours.

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girl-lostconnection · 3 months ago

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The thoughts are chasing me for the last few weeks or so, so now I’m gonna share them with you.

TaskForce 141 x Helldiver!Reader

141 who are getting higher clearance to find out about the whole entirely separate military branch that operate on intergalactic fucking levels.

And then they meet the Reader — always in armour, primary weapon slinged over their shoulder, heavy boots thudding on the metal of their ship as they jog from armoury to main panel, punching in coordinates.

141 don’t think they ever saw someone work this quickly with missions that never last more than 45 minutes at most, jogging through harsh terrain to work through every mission objective.

But still it seems doable. It doesn’t seem like anything too harsh they’ve seen on Earth. Not so different really. They don’t get why the soldiers of this branch are called “helldivers”.

Reader hums, voice getting distorted due to helmet they seem to be always in. Always ready for battle.

“Cause we dive feet first into hell”, they chuckle, rolling their shoulders before locking themselves down into the pod.

141 watching with growing worry the way the pod gets fucking launched down the orbit like a bloody missile. It’s a miracle the person inside even gets out upon collision. It’s a miracle they are in any state to fight.

But there is something wrong with the whole branch. Soldiers too young, heads too hot, missions too risky and weapons that are never provided. Most of ammunition helldivers buying themselves. Spending their own money to improve the state of the ship and their own weapons.

It’s not until 141 find out the horrifying statistic that colour drains from their faces, fingers cold and static-y.

Average lifespan of Helldivers in the field is less than half a minute.

Average age is 18 to 22 years old.

Continuation

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emmster · 2 months ago

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sleepy ghoap!!

Sleepy Ghoap! I’d imagine Ghost would kiss soap on his head partway through but post mission sleepy cuddles are fun

#my art #procreate #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #digital art #ghostsoap #ghoap #sergeant soap mactavish #cod art #simon ghost riley x johnny soap mactavish #kiss asks #sketches #my sketches

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incinerated-vestiges · 8 months ago

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based on this post

Without text

#the jacket is ghost’s bc i always drew him with that jacket in my other posts #turning laziness into a ghoap moment #and then ghost let him keep the jacket <3 #simon ghost riley #cod john mactavish #sergeant soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #ghost x soap #soap x ghost #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #my art #call of duty #cod #art

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rusticfurnace · 1 year ago

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hard launch

alt:

#john soap mactavish #cod mw2 #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghostsoap #call of duty mw2 #john mactavish #soapghost #just pretend they got their own instagram #the hot sergeant is off the market folks

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giotanner · 6 months ago

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John "Soap" Mactavish - behind the Red Skull mask

(Hey cod fans please help me to be in your circle with a reblog)

Tiktok entire video

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sigh-tofm · 8 months ago

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if you’re their sugar baby… (18+)

… price

- absolutely spoils you. adores giving you anything you want. if your gaze lingers in a shop window, he’ll buy you whatever’s in it. you suspect he’s infiltrated your phone somehow, because anything you look at online will show up on your doorstep a few days later. he takes you to private jewellery fittings and sits back with a glass of whisky while the jewellers puts glimmering necklaces and earrings on you.

in return, he likes showing you off. regularly takes you out to restaurants so expensive they don’t even list their prices on the menu. spoon feeds you black caviar and picks out the correct wine, the bottles so old they still have wax seals on them. loves seeing you wearing the dresses he buys for you, revealing the fleshier parts of your body that the rest of society tells you to hide. always wants you to wear diamonds in your ears when you’re his date. nothing is ever too expensive if it’s for you.

takes you to a luxurious hotel after and fucks you good and well in the satin sheets. goes back to base before you wake up the morning after, and leaves a generous cash tip on the nightstand in addition to the monthly four digit payments transferred directly to your bank account.

… kyle

- takes care of you. a sergeant’s pay is low compared to a captain’s, but it’s still a substantial amount and much, much more than you make. enjoys having a pretty lady to spoil. any visit to the hairdresser or nail salon is on him. will occasionally request a specific colour for your nails, and you know it’s to match a dress he’s bought you, waiting for you at home.

takes you dancing, spends the whole night downtown and treats you to high-end street food at three in the morning. you get fancy cocktails and colourful shots and anything else you want to try. if another woman gets close to him on the dance floor, he makes a point out of feeling you up, splaying his hands over you wide hips and soft tummy.

takes you home to his and you both fall right to sleep, waking up past noon the day after. arranges a massage for you to help with your hangover. sits in on the appointment and flips your towel up to eat you out when the massage therapist leaves. reminds you to use the credit card he’s given you in between your orgasms.

… johnny

- whisks you away to scotland when he’s off duty. borrows the family cabin in the highlands and accommodates you both in the master bedroom, spending the cold nights in a grand bed with a heavy pelt covering the duvet. loves the fantasy of having a big, soft secret stowed away in the mountains.

spends the days hiking with you or takes you down to the coast, where you watch the wild waves and enjoy cottage pie in a local pub. asks for the finest whiskey, refusing anything but the best for you. tells you all about the history of the old stone kirk of the town over steaming mugs of spiked cider.

lays the pelt out on the floor before the great fireplace in the living room and grins when you mention the cliché of it all. remarks that clichés exist for a reason and pulls you close. your skin grows goosebumps in the cold air of the cabin, but the fireplace (and the rigorous activity on the pelt rug) warms you both up. lays with you after, smoothing his hand over your side and enjoying how your soft body gives way to the pressure of his fingers. pays for first class on your flight back home and gives you cash enough to cover both rent and supplies for the month. makes out with you messily at the airport before you part ways.

… simon

- takes you along to all his going ons outside of active duty. enjoys having a partner in crime, so to speak. in the military he’s a lone wolf, so when he’s off he just wants to have you for company. price thinks it’s a good idea for him too, to at least pretend he has some normalcy in his life. you oblige. he takes you to all his mundane errands; groceries, changing the tires of his car, walking the old bridle paths in his area.

has you tucked in under his arm when the footie’s on in the evening, trays of hot takeaway on the sofa table. if you can’t decide what you want to order, he has you list everything you’re interested in and orders it all. entertains your questions about football terminology and plays with your hair. pulls a blanket over you when you’re close to falling asleep and turns the volume down.

herds you to bed after a little while and so enjoys having a warm, soft body to put his arm around at night. to you, it’s all so casual and natural that you almost forget it’s an arrangement, but he never forgets to pay for your company according to your agreement and always tips generously.

doesn’t say it out loud, but likes it when you straddle him on the sofa and lets him feel you up and make out with you until he comes in his pants like a schoolboy.

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