#call of duty task force 141

[ask-private-141]

Barry Sloane is so ungodly sexy.

[johnprice-asks]

The lads got me on this fookin’ website. Dunno what ‘m doin’ but I’ll try my best.

Send yer asks to me, but i ain't here for that.. that weird shite.

Bravo Six, going dark.

NSFW allowed, but dont expext and NSFW response.

18+ minors, dni.

please be respectful on this blog, any kind if disrespect to ANYONE will be getting you blocked by me. if theres an issue, DM me and let me sort it out, please and thank you.————————————————————————

Whats up, gang! I’m Soren. Its awesome to be running this account, proper love you all. Thank you for interacting, I will be replying to EVERY ask i get and thats a promise

-your favourite British scallywag, over and out.

[katz-chow]

the 141 landed in the wyoming wilderness in a safehouse with the shell of a ranch. an old friend of kate’s. they expected a host, not knowing anything about her. only that he late mother was kate’s partner and best friend. so when aunty katie called in a favor to host some guys, it was no problem for reader.

it turned out to be the 141’s problem because during the night after a scrumptious meal, they heard a gunshot, rifle. their fears was that they were found in their own manhunt, reader being taken. they however didn’t find reader in the house. they found her alone in the woods, rifle set aside, knife in hand, and bloodied.

[devilmayfamily]

AO3 Stories

Realizing that while I've mentioned, I should probably have a dedicated post to my AO3 so here is that lol. Psst... here's the link to my page :)

Finding Family ||Many years ago, Vergil fell in love but in search of more power, left the young maiden with a child all their own. Now many years later, that very child goes looking for his lost mother but while he's searching for her, someone else is searching for him.

Holding You ||Captain Price has a very slim waist and someone just can't keep their hands off of him.

Don't Upset Daddy ||Going to see your boyfriend on base wasn't ever an odd sight. However, coming to tease him was a very dangerous game to play with Captain John Price.

Mi Amor ||Alejandro absolutely adores his husband Rudy.

I Love You Nero, But You're Not Mine ||A Corpse Bride retelling. Can also be found here on my page.

Fix Me Up ||Commander Phillip Graves didn't think his Shadow Company needed a nurse. However, when he finds himself bedridden after a mission gone wrong, the commander must come to terms with his feelings about a specific woman healing his wounds.

Captain Price's Guide to Babysitting Soldiers ||A collection of stories about Captain John Price trying his hardest to keep his sons from killing themselves, one another, and the entire damn base.

[ask-private-141]

I got mating…, (only if it’s John price, or gaz.)

(not talking about any of the ask blogs just the characters in general btw!! :3)

First thing you see after you zoom in is how you die

How you dying 👀

[cinnamongrl2006]

Simon Riley is a loverboy warnings: established relationship, mentions of pornography, very fluffy Simon Riley blurb

He loved you, that much was obvious. Your initials were carved onto the handles of his guns— messy handwriting, all passion and longing— and a wrinkled polaroid of you accompanied him everywhere he went. He'd stick it to the wall beside wherever he slept, stick it to the ceiling if he got to sleep in a bunk bed (one of those with the loose springs that shriek at every movement, that poked into his back and made him miss your touch more than ever).

Johnny had asked him about it one day, half mocking Simon, he was just in disbelief that their closed off lieutenant had found someone, and reasonably so. It was late at night, they'd been sitting still for hours, the target had yet to exit the building they were watching— Price had told them to wait.

So, he tried to make small talk, gossip a little. He said he'd seen that old polaroid in his quarters, seen it get tucked away in his pocket, tacked to walls and ceilings. He'd seen Simon hold it in his hands when he sat in bed— his breathing leveled, face hidden by his mask, mumbling something under his breath before he laid down to sleep. He'd made some stupid comment like what porno she sneak out of?, a comment that would usually earn him a chuckle and a tap on the arm, but that this time earned him a slap to the back of his head and a grumble.

"Respect my bird, Soap." He'd said, deep voice coated in annoyance, almost venomous.

It was obvious he loved you when, you came to pick him up after he got back from being deployed. Obvious in the way his gloved hands immediately found yours, in the way a weight seemed to lift off your shoulders; in the way his gaze, concealed with a balaclava, was so soft, so loving.

They all heard it in his voice, sweet, almost saccharine; saw it in the way you'd touch him, and he'd let you. You could poke his side after making a joke, and he wouldn't flinch, wouldn't bend your arm back or slap it away; he'd laugh, he'd hold your wrist in his big, calloused hand and laugh lightheartedly.

Soap and Gaz watched, enthralled, as you completely took over Simon's personal space, your hands moving up and under his t-shirt, your face settling in the crook of his neck as you held him close, squeezing him tight "to make up for lost time". They watched as Simon grunted out complaining, but lifted up the lower section of his balaclava and kissed your forehead, then your lips.

Ghost was their closed off lieutenant, but Simon Riley was completely wrapped around your little finger, and he loved every second of it.

────୨ৎ────

tags:@laceyfaeryy @cherrycolaheartss

[anythingneverythingnstuffs]

Imagine accidentally walking into a military dive bar by yourself, not knowing that the customer base was mainly military folk, and just kind of rolling with it

Imagine you dressed cute, your hair was done, and it had been a long week- you deserved a good ol' night on the town, damnit, and you didn't want to pay another Uber to go to another bar

Imagine you making your way up to the bar to order your first drink of the night and when you order a simple cocktail, the bar goes quiet for a split second because who orders a cocktail in this place?

Imagine not knowing that since the second you walked in that door, you've had eyes on you. Of course you've had eyes on you since you walked in, but one pair in particular stayed glued to your form as you walked through the bar

Imagine looking around after getting your drink from the bartender to see where you'd try to sit for a bit to sip on your drink

Imagine there being an empty table near the far end of the bar that you decide to claim as your own as you continued to scope out the bar patrons

Imagine finally locking eyes with the one man that has had his eye on you since the minute you walked in the door

Imagine freezing as you look into his eyes from across the bar, suddenly aware that this huge, masked military man had been looking right at you

Imagine deciding after a second fuck it and you just gave him a smile and a small wave before sipping your drink. After all, he had been looking at you first, right?

Imagine seeing him look away briefly after your wave and you finally turn to look around the bar again, idly sipping at your drink

Imagine not even a minute later, that very same man is now standing right next to you- how the hell did he get there so fast-? And so quietly-?

Imagine the silence that ensues, neither one of you wanting to say the first word (well, it was either not wanting or not knowing what to say)

Imagine the first thing you speak to Simon 'Ghost' Riley, unknowing who he is or what his reputation was, being, "So, uh... Come here often...?"

Imagine that really being your best line for this strange man

Imagine Ghost letting out a soft grunt as he nodded, "Often enough. Never seen you here before."

Imagine you giving him another smile, this one softer and more genuine as you reply, "I didn't realize this was so... Military oriented. Am I even allowed to be here?"

Imagine hearing a small huff from the man, his eyes indiscernible as he says, "Course you're allowed. I'd like to see them try to kick a bird like you out."

Imagine giggling softly, "A bird like me? What's that supposed to mean?"

Imagine all the while, Simon 'Ghost' Riley's teammates are still sitting at the bar, watching this all go down like it was a soap opera. It was, wasn't it? Their Lieutenant going out of his way to flirt with the little bird who accidentally wandered into a military-centric dive and still ordered the little cocktail you liked.

ugh just imagine

masterlist

[goatgoesmbe]

f!reader

Reader who always wear a mask, and was more secretive than Ghost who had no problem showing his face to the team once in a while.

And just like with Ghost, the others joked about you being ugly, which you similarly replied with confidence that's not the case.

When you were tired of keep getting questions about the mask, you'd respond with a joke.

Putting on your best act, you sighed with a solemn look, telling a story about how you used to be obsessed with Shrek and had him tattooed on your face, which you were ashamed of now.

"..Are you serious?" Kyle asked.

You simply shrugged "I guess you'll never know".

And they could never guess whether you were lying or not, being known as the master of psychological warfare and often sent for espionage because of your skill with people, manipulation.

And acting.

What they didn't know is that, you gained that skill from your previous job, when you were a big deal in the entertainment industry. A professional actress that started in many movies and got into a really big scandal that got you hiding.

And somehow ended up here.

That was the reason as to why you needed to hide your face, your identity. Not even your captain knows about it, only Laswell who knew a bit of your story.

Lounging around in the recroom, you silently observed the others arguing about a certain movie to watch before it somehow ended with them fanboying for a certain actress who played the main character.

You.

"Ah swear, Ah saw this porn where the lass looked just like her. Had folk arguin’ if it was really her or just a doppelganger… haud on, where is it—" You heard Johnny rambled as he fumbled with his phone.

You shifted in your seat and hid a smille.

Oh yeah, that side gig you took a long time ago.. almost forgot about that

Dropping this idea before class so i wont forget abt it UPDATE : yes, im def writing this

[ask-private-141]

*I swoon and sigh like a cartoon character* “I wonder when my husband will return” I say as I look out the window.

(If you guys didn’t know my top 3 cod boys are Rodolfo, Price, then ghost.)

[metallictastinglifesupportliquid]

Y/N: Fuck me if I'm wrong but- Ghost: Wrong. You are wrong Y/N: I haven't even said- Ghost, taking his shirt off: You are WRONG

[ask-private-141]

@ask-philgraves

[johnprice-asks]

oh wow... look its the british scumbag that threatens my commander 24/7.. 😒

- @gravesesfavoriteshadowconfirmed

@ask-phillip-graves , get your shadows the hell away from me, seriously.. they are properly obsessed with me and my damn men.

[ask-private-141]

I loved him when I first laid eyes on that sexy man.

Gaz you DID NOT see this thank you 🩷

You guys do not appreciate Gaz enough so I’m here to sell him to you

this shit is important so yall better read

I truly don’t understand the lack of Gaz love -

ok well

I do at some level

I think the argument usually levied against his character id that he’s boring

but beautifully stated by tumblr user mockerycrow in their character analysis of him

CHARACTERS DO NOT HAVE TO HAVE A TRAGIC BACKSTORY TO BE INTERESTING CHARACTERS

press keep reading to fall in love with Gaz

Who is Gaz?

I’m going to start out with who Gaz is as a character

morality

Gaz is someone who has a strong sense of morality and struggles with the balance between doing the right thing and doing the morally right thing, there’s this debate between long-term morality and situational morality that Gaz struggles with

look im maybe not the most linguistically talented person on earth so im just gonna throw in a few quotes which i think gives Gaz

Gaz is someone who admist chaos and war is trying his best, trying his best to be a good person, to be reliable and to do the right thing

if thays not lovable idk what is

relationship to price

ok so i think this aspect of Gaz’s character is what people tend to focus on

and as much as the omg price’s son shit is cute i think he’s become a vehicle for people to emphasise price’s daddy factor (which like dont get me wrong keep up the good work)

but i think theres so much more to that

i forgot who wrote this but someone said something about Gaz trying to follow in impossibly large footsteps and i think thats so accurate

going back to Gaz’s struggle with morality there’s so much untapped potential in the idea that his idol, may not be an amazing person, having to come to grips with the idea that Price, his role model can look at a woman and child as interrogation leverage is something that i think people need to look into more

OK so now

Untapped Potential

so here are somethings which i

idk if this is like the correct phrasing

headcannon? idk i just think these are parts of Gaz’s character which could be rlly interesting to explore

ahem

yes Gaz is a good guy, but that doesn’t make him passive Gaz has shown moments of anger, like in the interrogation with the butcher when he lunges at him or when him and price first meet

i think the fact that Gaz is so calm and collected but has these moments are cracks in the facade he creates

i believe personally he has a lot of repressed anger whether it be at the world, at himself, at his captain hes an angry dude hes just better at keeping it under wraps

and i know we don’t really have many details on his backstory but cmon there’s no way u sign up for a job like this and don’t have any issues whatsoever

i think this quote is so good for this because he’s harnessed his anger, it’s what makes him good at his job, a knife, a weapon

i think another interesting concept for Gaz is guilt

the fact that he cares about whats right and wrong how does he feel going to sleep at night? do these things haunt him? is he irredeemable?

i think its like that one quote “the dog that weeps after it kills is no better than the dog that doesn’t. My guilt does not purify me.”

Final Thoughts

anyways guys thanks for coming to my ted talk

i know this was really messy but i just want to encourage some Gaz love because i think he’s a really interesting complex character who we just need to dig a little deeper into

i hope this incites some more gaz love

THANK YOU 😳

[rosiereveries]

John who fucks you raw for the first time.

You've been dating for a year now, and you always tried to be safe. But now, he came home earlier from a mission, and you didn't have the time to buy the condoms.

But how you can say no to him, when he begs you to let him fuck you. He says how much he missed you and your pussy. So, you agree that you will give him a pussy job and he can push the tip inside.

John thinks that he never felt anything better than your pussy raw on his dick. Everything feels so intense, and he can't control himself. With few hard thrusts he is completely inside you and he can't hear your whimpers when you remind him that he is only allowed just the tip.

Now he has you under him and he promises that he will pull out, but he slowly starts to realize that it won't be possible. He thinks about you full with his child, with your breast getting bigger and his load spilling out of your pussy. How lovely would you look with his fat baby on your hip while being pregnant with another one.

He never thought he had a breeding kink but once he tried your pussy without a condom everything changes.

He pins you down to the mattress pushing his dick deep inside your pussy and when he feels you reaching your orgasm and squeezing his cock he spills his seed inside of you. With few more thrust he fucks the cum deeper inside of you.

And when you moan his name so overwhelmed and sensitive, he knows that he needs to make sure that it sticks. It doesn't take long and he is spilling another load into you.

And than another one in the shower while he has you pressed against the glass. And another one on the couch when he makes you ride him, while he smokes his favorite kind of cigars.

When the next day you come home with a pack of condoms, he quickly hides them away from you when you're not looking. He needs to make sure that soon enough you will be fat with his baby.

Masterlist You can support my work here : ko-fi

[tobeholyistobeempty]

you’re drunk - simon ghost riley

“y’wanna know what stupid looks like?” he mutters, head dropping down until his lips near your jaw. “you, wakin up with my fuckin dog tags round your neck and nothin else.”

based off a request i got - tispy simon riley x drunk reader. simon is a man of morals, even when you make it very very hard for him to exercise them. 18+. lots of detailed dirty talk.

————-

it’s honestly not even your fault.

you’ll blame it all on soap, if anyone asks - he’s the one who had a tab open, a devil on his shoulder, and kept pouring shots as if they were free. now you’re blackout-adjacent, stumbling through the hallway with simon’s arm wrapped around your waist in some makeshift tourniquet while everything spins like a goddamn carousel.

simon always gets stuck on clean-up crew. mostly because he’s the only one who can handle their fuckin liquor.

needless to say, he’s used to this by now. used to the way you’ve been rambling on about nothing for the better part of five minutes - doesn’t say much when you stop and get distracted by something stupid for the billionth time. doesn’t complain when you grab his arm and lean a little too hard into his side, as if he’s a lifeline in the sea that is the floor beneath your feet.

he’s tipsy, sure, but somehow still annoyingly steady. classic simon.

“jesussi—you’re big.” it’s slurred and breathless, broken by your own laughter as your head drops lazily onto his shoulder. “like, industrial grade. military-issued big.”

the corner of his mouth tilts. if you were sober you’d see the smirk he’s biting back.

“tha right?”

“mmm. like a fuckin tank,” you hum, fingers kneading the muscle under your palm. it’s involuntary - just like it’s involuntary when he twitches. “or an armoured vehicle. y’should come with airbags.”

simon bites his cheek. the devil in you is dancing in the waves of tension rolling off him.

maybe he’s not as used to this as he thought - because this isn’t just drunk-banter. this is you, murmuring compliments with all that heat behind them. personal. stupidly involuntarily honest.

hes not used to compliments. not ones that sound like that.

“you’re drunk,” he breathes.

you grin. “so’re you.”

“not even half as much as you.”

you let out a giddy little laugh that makes him glance down, at that. it’s quick and brief, the way his eyes flick over you, like he’s checking to make sure you haven’t stripped mid-hallway. it’s just the bickering that gets you. makes you warm inside.

“m’not that drunk,” you lie through your teeth with all the drunken confidence you possess. “i mean—i am, but not like…memory loss drunk. i’m still gonna remember how wide your shoulders are tomorrow.”

it’s only seconds after that and your fingers are moving again, crawling down his arm to where leather edge meets skin.

“..and how insanely big your hands are,” you sigh in continuation, unable to help yourself. “like—biblically destructive. ruin-her-life-in-a-single-night kind of hands. anyone ever tell y’that?”

and that might just be precisely when it starts - the feeling in his gut. brought to life through the filth you’re beginning to feed.

“don’t.” he says, and it’s torn. “not now.”

he’s all but begging you - and however miraculously, his pace doesn’t break. still steady as ever even as you switch from squeezing to tracing his tattoos with your finger. the only response he gives is a devastating clench of his jaw as he keeps you moving - steering past flickering lights and sterile walls.

“y’ever choke a girl out with them?” you press, unfettered. “not like, unconscious, but like. in bed?”

he exhales. slow. almost a growl.

“jesus. stop talkin’.”

“why?” you blink up at him, all wide eyes and flushed cheeks, far too innocent for someone who’s very much not being innocent. “am i makin’ you nervouuus?”

his head tilts just slightly, just enough to peer down at you again.

“no,” he says, and even drunk you hear the grit in it. “you’re makin’ me hard.”

he says it like he hates himself for it. like it slipped out - cut from the meat of some deep place the inebriation in his veins simply won’t let him keep inside.

and you?

you blink slow, lips parting in surprise.

“fuckin’ finally.” you exhale with a smile. slow and crooked and dangerous. “thought i’d have to be on my knees and naked for you to admit that—“

he doesn’t let you finish that thought.

“fuck’s sake, y’little minx.” he’s dragging you now, as if he’s realizing the dangers that are surfacing the more this conversation continues. by this point he’s half-carrying, half-hauling your giggling form down the hall like you weigh nothing. “y’need to stop talkin.”

“you like it,” you slur between unsteady steps. “y’like me like this cause you’re a freakkk—“

his grip tightens. morals in tatters. control evaporating.

“i’d like you more if y’were unconscious.” he huffs, hard. “or duct-taped.”

that makes you giggle more. worse, it eggs you on.

“was that supposed t’be a threat?” you ask, lips glistening. “cause if so, it’s workingggg.”

he grunts - some deep, violent sound in his throat like that one hit a nerve. “bloody hell.”

by the time you make it to your door, he’s breathing heavy. less from exertion and more from sheer fucking restraint. it takes two seconds before he throws the hinges wide, kicks it shut with his boot, and all but drags you onto your bed.

and you hardly even realize you’ve reached it until the cotton caresses the side of your cheek. but that feeling is quickly forgotten when simon, the gentleman that he is, leans over you - one knee braced on the mattress as his hands go to work on the laces of your boots.

your thighs tense. he notices.

“fuck, simon.” you can’t stop yourself. not even god himself could, at this point. “i’ve been into you for ages, y’know.”

he pauses. boot in hand.

“…what?”

he says it low. like a warning - like a don’t you fuckin start. but you’re too drunk to care - especially when all you smell is him and all you see are those shoulders, leaning over you while you’re flat on your back beneath him.

your lashes flutter.

“jus sayin- since, like. you’re in my room, on my bed above me like one of my codeine fever dreams.” you slur, brain sloshing. the room spins with it. “thought y’should know.”

he looks at you like you’ve hit him with a brick.

your head lolls. glassy eyes dragging up over the length of him. “used to think about it—you—when i couldn’t sleep.”

he swallows, and you watch his throat work with it. the grip he’s got on your ankle could shatter bone.

“….you tellin me y’think bout me when y’touch yourself?” he asks.

“god yes.” you don’t even realize you’ve said it. “you. your hands. bending me over the sinks. in the showers while muttering filth in my ear, tellin me to behave—“

“—fuck.” it punches out of him like it hurts.

the silence falls heavy. he doesn’t blink, breathe, or move for what feels like forty minutes, when in reality, it’s like forty seconds - just long enough for him clamp the leash back on whatever beast is tearing through him.

not fully, but enough.

you stretch like a cat, oblivious to it. arch your back. sigh. “d’you think about it?”

he doesn’t answer. not at first. then—

“only when i breathe.”

your stomach lurches. your thighs twitch. “you mean that?”

he looks at you, finally - eyes darker than the devils deal, filled with filth and heat from the fire you started without even trying.

he shakes his head, his jaw clenches with the effort of keeping the beast at bay. “i mean, if you don’t stop talkin, m’gonna fuckin’ fold.”

the alcohol in your blood just roars, at that. fuel to the flaming fire inside you.

“tell me.” you murmur. “you think about fucking me? what i’d sound like moaning your—“

before you can finish that thought, his hand is over your mouth. it swallows your face, makes you twitch in all the wrong places — and he sees it.

“enough.” it’s barely a whisper. “christ. fuck. you’re gonna make me do somethin’ stupid.”

you moan against his hand - it spills out of you, vibrates against his fingers. he curses.

“y’wanna know what stupid looks like?” he mutters, head dropping down until his lips near your jaw. “you, wakin up with my fuckin dog tags round your neck and nothin else.”

his palm silences everything but your pulse, which is roaring, at this point.

your fingers come up, shift a few of his digits until your voice finds room to leak out. “please.”

his eyes snap shut.

“y’dont know what you’re askin for, sweet’eart,” he mutters, grabbing the edge of the blanket with his free hand and yanking it over your hips. “ain’t gonna wake up with you hatin me.”

even drunk you realize he’s a man of morals.

“you think i’d regret it?” you whisper. stars in your eyes. he doesn’t respond. “simon. i just told you i’ve fantasized about fucking you. i wonder how big you are, if it’d hurt—“

his palm tightens over your lips again.

“one more fuckin’ word and i’ll forget every goddamn reason why i shouldn’t touch you right now.” he spits. “if y’even remember this tomorrow, y’come say it to me sober. promise on every grave i’ve ever stood over i’ll bend y’over on the spot and fuck the idea of regret right outta you.”

then he pulls back, moving slow like it hurts, and you smile.

“guess i’ll see you tomorrow.”

“mhm.” he hums, take a step or two toward the door. “fuckin hope you will.”

[skyrigel]

Reader who doesn't speak English as their first language and Simon being so in love !!

Over the dinner course, you leaned forward confidently, like you were sharing a secret.

"I think we should buy a baby wheelchair for them."

Price's missus was going to have a baby shower next week.

"Wot?" Simon blinked.

"A baby wheelchair—" You pulled your fist into a punching stance and moved it back and forth, mimicking a tiny car. "Like a baby car… phew phew."

"Oh, that's a stroller." Simon raised a brow, watching your head bobble in a self-absorbed nod.

"Exactly, baby car… stroller."

And it was so cute when you looked up at him whenever you forgot certain words.

"Simon, how do you say in English? The takka-takka-takka—"

"Helicopter," Simon said fondly, earning himself a sweet peck on the lips.

The task force enjoyed it immensely. When Soap said, “Break a leg !” and you raised up a fight at why Simon should break his leg.

Or when Kyle couldn't stop laughing so much with the way you pronounced, “Bitch” to the bird who was hitting up on Simon.

And Simon loved it all, felt love in your eyes through your words, especially when you used his vocabulary—God, it did something to him.

Saying "bugger" when you put too much ketchup, and "bloody freezin’, innit?!" with that corky little smile because you knew how much it wrecked him.

"Bollocks," you would curse, and he’d already be losing his heart and mind, dragging you to the bedroom.

The way you would slip into your native dialect when you were upset, voice rising as you made frustrated noises—Simon would forget the argument entirely, just watching you with that pretty face he’d go to war for.

And something, something about the way you said "I love you" in your native language first, just as softly, and how you called him "my love" in that same way too.

Bloody hell, he’s so in love.

Masterlist