#gaz

[simonriley09]

COD P☆RN LINKS <3

Ghost: Exchanging photos with Simon

Letting Simon tie you up in your new fishnets

Simon sharing you with Price

trying anal for the first time

Gaz: Bending you over the couch after you pestered him the whole day

Blindfolding you while hitting it from the back Pumping you full with cum while you're face down ass up <3

Making you ride him in your new panties [which will be spoiled and ripped later <3] Fucking in the barracks König: Your thighs hurt but dw K can carry u :3 Fingering his tiny liebling Mating press into the couch Riding him in the backyard, hoping the neighbors wont see Hair pulling and breeding <3 Making you gag on his dick Price: Eating you out in the back cz he couldn't wait Tying his hair up so he can eat you out Using his big hands on his lovie <3 Price catching you using toys Be a good girl for daddy, wont you lovie? Whimper for me darlin'. Soap: He woke you up for this Harder? Wearing your favorite hoodie <3 Filling your cunt up nicely Right on the kitchen counter Making you squirt for him After date night

[gothghostiie]

God what I wouldn’t give to be a cozy sleepy little thing snuggled between all the 141 boys. I know in my soul that Simon and Kyle give absolutely god tier snuggles. Warmed on all sides and tucked safely in their arms, being woken up by Johnny kissing the tip of my nose… the dream

oh absolutely

a snuggle pile with these men is nothing short of heavenly, all of them are simply amazing cuddlers. I mean, 4 big, strong guys who are; let's be real; probably absolutely touch starved. just imagine how cozy it gets with you in the middle of all of that.

[tame-the-lion-writes]

For the dog shifter au do you think reader would get the boys those buttons where the dogs can press on them to talk? I think that would be so funny lol. I love your writing!!

Answering so you can find it lol--this AU has gotten so much content that it can be hard to find things even with the tag

Here's a link to a past ask! Reader does, in fact, get them one of those button boards where they can tap it to talk. Here's some more detail on that, though--

At first you get them the basic buttons for requests like food, water, time to go to the park, etc. Then you have to upgrade to something that has the whole alphabet, because for whatever reason, these weird ahh dogs know how to spell.

You once added curse words for fun--then quickly regretted it. Soap started cursing like a sailor, and Ghost started cursing back.

Gaz is pretty wholesome with how he uses it, though. He likes to press the buttons that say "good morning" and whatnot. Once you accept the fact that he can spell, too, he even goes so far as to compliment you with short works or acronyms. Ex: QT (cutie)

Sometimes, Price will use the buttons, but never for himself. More like when Ghost is too stubborn to make a request, so it's Price asking for a collective walk to the park, or an outing.

It's also extremely helpful when you need to let them out to go to the bathroom, because they insist on never doing that in your presence. (And number two is reserved for when you're away--for obvious reasons--but you don't know that).

[qingwaaa]

They can skate now!!

[evilgwrl]

hey sunshine 🥰 could you possibly do the 141 with a hyper independent reader? id love to see how they handle a s/o like this!! if not, i totally understand 💜💜 enjoy your sunday

Ofc!! I hope this is what you were looking for, I'm not the most educated on hyper-independence but I tried to do a lil research <3 Sorry it took me so long to write it, I've been having a hectic week

Your feet strummed against the floor; body restless as you looked at the flock of emails piling up. Fidgety hands were tugging at your hair as you looked at the time. Your laptop shut with a huff as you walked into the kitchen, eager to eat as your stomach grumbled.

There was a soft shell of steam covering the room, food broiling in the oven as you turned your attention to the chopping board. You swore quickly, the smell of burning sauce catching your attention as you turned to quickly stir it. Your body swayed back and forth, constantly focusing on something new as you struggled to keep up.

You had a strict schedule, always needing to be on top of everything. You enjoyed the smiles on the boy’s faces when they came through the door to a cooked meal. It was different today, however. Work had finished later than usual, pushing your activity back as the boys walked through the door.

“Hey, bonnie,” Soap flattered, pressing a kiss to your head as he looked at the kitchen, every saucer in use.

“Hi,” you smiled, swatting his hands away as he attempted to stir something.

“Smells good, love,” John cooed, husky breath against your neck as he hugged you from behind.

“I’ll set up the dining table,” Kyle chirped as you quickly yelped at a ‘no’.

“No, no. I’ve got it. Just go sit down. It’s nearly done.”

Simon raised a brow, taking in your quick no. They knew you enjoyed working alone, it just seemed easier for you, but the scene before him was overwhelming to look at as you rubbed at your forehead, pulling something out of the oven.

“We’re happy to help, sweet’art, just let-“

“No, no, I promise its fine. Please just go sit down.”

You were consistent as you shushed them out of the kitchen with a handtowel, turning your attention back to the scene in front of you. Soap frowned as he sat down, resting his chin in his hand.

“She’s gonna work ‘erself to death,” Simon scowled, concerned.

“You know how she is, she’s independent,” Gaz quipped, rubbing a brow.

You were a flurry, piling food onto the plates before they grew cold. You were quick to place all their plates down and hurry back, grabbing a stack of cutlery and cups, the glass pile slightly tipped. John raised from his seat to assist you as you pulled back, offering him a gentle smile.

“Let me help, dove.”

“I’ve got it, I don’t need help,” you spoke quickly as you moved too fast, the glasses tipping over as they clattered against the floor, shards of crystal collecting at your feet as you hissed, the four men surrounding you quickly raising to their feet.

Your legs padded against the floor as you hurried to the kitchen to grab a dustpan from under the sink, Soap quickly in toe. It was overwhelming as they crowded around you, trying to grab the scoop from your fidgety hands before you snapped, “I don’t need your help, just eat your food.”

Your tone was harsh as they stilled, staring at you with concern. Your face felt hot, unshed tears welling in your eyes at the situation. The glass collected in the black box, flickers of shimmer dancing off the sharp shards as you grabbed your own plate, heading to your bedroom.

You weren’t sure where it came from, the need to never ask for help but it ate at you until your body was scolding with overworked heat. The night ticked by slowly as you cooped yourself up in the warmth of your sheets, only getting up to clean as you walked to the kitchen, no mess in sight.

“I hope you don’t mind that we cleaned up, figured you had done enough for us today,” Price’s voice was soft, a glide of comfort slipping from his tongue as he placed his hand’s on his hips.

“I could’ve done it.”

“I know, we all know. But we’re here too, love. It’s not fair for you to take on every load of responsibility. You deserve help. We’re not going anywhere, and we want to show you that we appreciate you too.”

The words settled in your chest as you stared at him, placing the plate in the sink as you offered him a polite glance, attempting to wrap around everything he was saying.

“Thank you,” you said, eyes low as you began to wash. The tickle of hair was felt around your waist, along with two arms as Kyle pressed a gentle kiss to the back of your neck.

“We want to help you, love. You don’t need to go through anything alone, we’re here to support you the way you support us.”

You swallowed deeply.

“We don’t want to overwhelm you either, we just want our girl to feel the best she can,” Price spoke.

It was harder for you to talk about your feelings, your heart chained in between your rib cage, the need to ask for help always at the tip of your tongue but never able to leave, keeping you prisoner to your own despair. The boys left you for a little bit, asking you to join them in the living room when you were ready. There was a gentle pit of anxiety in your stomach as you huffed, ensuring everything had been done before you joined them.

It was a sweet sight to walk into. They were spread on the couch, reassuring smiles on their faces as Soap held his hands out towards the table, a chocolate cake decorated with the words ‘Thank you’ on it along with a bouquet of pink peonies.

You laughed, “When did you have time to get all this?”

“I’m quick,” Ghost beamed, tapping the spot between them as you huddled over.

“Thank you,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to each of their cheeks. It was hard for you to comprehend you had people wanting to help you, and you knew they would never be able to understand what it was like for you, but they tried their hardest, and that was the greatest gift you could ask for.

“Can I eat some cake now?” Soap chorused as you laughed, rubbing the back of his head before nestling into Kyle.

[quillcraftconquer]

John 'Soap' MacTavish X Female Reader Pt. 2

Pt 1:

TW: Smut, as per usual.

You’re shaking the Captain's rough hands, offering a small smile of pleasantries before being introduced to the other team members. 

At 5 in the fucking morning.

You try to ignore the fact you just woke up mere hours ago, accompanied with a pounding headache and sore body. How much mouthwash does it take to rinse the taste of beer and one night stand from your mouth, you wonder, following Captain Price’s footsteps to the group of men. 

Jesus Christ, what do they feed these men?

You thought the Captain was big, but now that they’re turning to face you, you notice that the one wearing a...halloween mask? is noticeably bigger. You’ve already heard the spiel about him, not only from Captain Price, but from every other soldier who knew about Task Force 141. No, he doesn't take the mask off. No, he doesn't have a picture, anywhere. Yes, he is a little strange, but generally a nice guy with some witty banter. You shake his hand, notating the taut way he carries himself and the way his eyes flicker around like a pinball machine under his mask. If you bottled up a beehive and shook it, it would resemble this man's body. 

Ghost.

You can feel yourself nodding at their introductions, your hand sliding from theirs as you make your way down the line. You pause when you reach a much shorter, thicker body than the rest, no hand extended in front of them like the others. You glance up from the Union Jack flag you had dissociated into, meeting the wide, hungover blue ones staring back at you.

No fucking way.

A sound threatens to emit from you, something between a gasp and a laugh, at the audacity the universe has to put your one night stand in front of you, let alone on the same team. You can only presume this man, John, you hazily recall, is thinking the same thing as his mouth opens and closes like a dying fish. 

Soap.

Sgt. MacTavish. Johnny. Soap. You barely process the words until they’re repeated louder, angrier from the man next to him, the one they called Ghost. His hand whips out, connecting with the back of Soap’s head, ruffling the mohawk he had slicked back. As if it restarted his brain, his hand shot out, grasping yours and giving it a quick, firm shake before dropping it like it was on fire. The others start to dissipate, continuing packing away their bags onto a truck that was filled with items ready to bring you to the next base. You studied John, no, Soap, watching as he shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

Sgt. MacTavish.

“I outrank you.” 

The words come bubbling up before you can push them down. More heat flushes Soaps face, a red tinge warming his cheeks as he turns away from you silently, stalking back towards his team. You can no longer contain your laughter at the absurdity of the situation, doubling over as you clutch your stomach. The others, Gaz and Ghost, look at Soap in question, wondering what short conversation could have transpired to leave you in that state. 

The base is devoid from any comforts of home, the only luxurious thing about it being the dual showers, separated by a large concrete wall and two curtains. You bask in it, letting the warm water wash away the last bits of the alcohol induced sluggishness your body was clinging to. The sound of the curtain jerking open next to you causes your eyes to spring open, the dog tags thrown haphazardly over the wall, dipping into your side of the shower.

John MacTavish.

“I would have thought a member of an elite task force would have carried more than one condom in their wallet.” You thought aloud, smirking as you heard the muttered “bloody hell” from the other half. You quietly left your shower stall, throwing open the curtain next to yours and stepping inside of the water quickly. Soap moved to the side, eyeing you cautiously as you grinned at him. His eyes dropped to your naked body, his gaze heated as he slowly made his way back up to your eyes. 

“What're you doing?” He asked, casually resuming washing his body. He stopped again, watching as you settled on your knees in front of him, bracing yourself on his thick thighs.

“Thought I’d return the favor.” You mocked him from your earlier encounter, taking his hardening cock in your hand as you gave a slow lick from the base to the tip, swirling around it before taking him fully in your mouth. Soaps head knocked backwards, a shiver running through his body and emitting as a guttural moan when you reached the base, eyes watering and mingling with the shower droplets hitting your face. You gazed up at him, past the tightened abdominal muscles littered with dark hairs and towards his blue eyes, ones that you were beginning to grow fond of, gazing down at you. The water from the shower had ruined his well maintained mohawk, the hair now curling forward and brushing the hairs on his brow. 

You attempted to withdraw, your cheeks hollowed as you sucked, until his hand met the back of your head and stopped you. 

Oh. 

“I didn't even know your name until Price told me.” Soap observed, watching you with a bemused look, your lips wrapped around his thickness. You tried to move back off of him in an attempt to throw a witty remark, but he held you in place, stepping forward slightly until you were kneeling almost between his legs and tilting your head back until he could push into you again, deeper, almost straight down.

Oh. Was he upset?

“Didn't. Even. Know. Your. Name. But. I. Remembered. How. Good. This. Fucking. Mouth. Feels.” Soap groaned, each word punctuated by a thrust of his hips and his cock bumping the back of your throat. You let out a small noise, the act of him letting you use your body causing an ache between your legs. He glanced down at you, letting out a groan at the sight. Your hands were wrapped around his thighs, clutching to his ass as he continued to thrust, his cock twitching in your throat. 

“Wont forget it now.” He panted the promise, his hand shooting out to brace against the wall as he pulled you by the back of your neck closer to him until your nose was buried against his pubic bone. He threw his head back and moaned your name, thick ropes shooting down your throat, forcing you to swallow. Finally, his hand dropped, allowing you to stand freely in front of him under the (now cold) water. 

“Next time you say my name,” You said, brushing your hand across your lips to gather the small bead of cum that threatened to leak out, sucking it back into your mouth greedily.

“Put ‘Lieutenant’ in front of it.”.

[aussiepineapple1st]

MIA Page 5

Page 1 | Previous | Next (coming soon)

It’s been months. Soap is going from MIA to presumed KIA.

[abwood24]

The pain of loss burns hearts😭🍉

I will tell you my story quickly, I am Abdullah, and with me are my elderly mother and father, and I take care of them. Since the beginning of the aggression on the Gaza Strip, I have lost 3 people from my family, my cousin and 2 children from my sister, who did not flee from the northern Gaza Strip and were exposed to Israeli bombing, and everyone in the house was injured without warning. Every day in these bloody days that we are living in Gaza increases the loss of those we love, and I fear that in two days I will lose more of my family, my mother and father, because I love them more than myself. Please stop the war, please. Our enemy will support my campaign, please.

@appsa @buttercuparry @fancysmudges @brokenbackmountain @just-browsing1222 @aleciosun @aleciosun @ @transmutationisms @schoolhater @timogsilangan @appsa @buttercuparry @sayruq @malcriada @palestinegenocide @sar-soor @akajustmerry @annoyingloudmicrowavecultist @tortiefrancis @flower-tea-fairies @tsaricides @kyra45 @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @visenyasdragon @belleandsaintsebastian @ear-motif @kordeliiius @brutaliakhoa @raelyn-dreams @troythecatfish @theropoda @tamarrud @4ft10tvlandfangirl @queerstudiesnatural @aleciosun @skatezophrenic @lesbiandardevil @northgazaupdates2 @mothblossoms @mothblossoms @mothblossoms @jezior0 @cenobat @aristotels

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Surprise Pt. 5 | Soap x Reader

Summary: The boys learn that they don’t know you as well as they thought they did, while you find some newfound ‘friends’ in an American and his unofficial boss in Urzikstan.

Word Count: ~ 4.6k

Warnings: Descriptions of death, knives, blood, guns, explosions, debris, gas, torture, kidnapping, shooting, choking, heavy topics, biting, it’s a lot yall

A/N: umm sorry ive been gone for a week here’s some food!! *runs away* this is a big switchup though from mainly 141 to Alex, Farah, and a few more pieces of reader’s backstory so lmk any thoughts or theories (yk I love them) hope you enjoy<3 (side quest: find how many characters you can recognize from cod!)

Requests are open!

Previous | Masterlist | Next

The first thing Captain John Price registered when he walked into the room, the rest of his Task Force following closely behind, was that they were in some deep shit. They’d just gotten back from a mission. The one they’d been called into during the volleyball game. It had been low stakes, but instead of going back to the apartment, they’d been told to get back to base as soon as possible.

Laswell was pacing back and forth, fidgeting, two things she never did unless everything was falling apart at the seams. The last time he’d seen her so worked up had been years ago. When she caught sight of him, there was no sigh of relief or relaxation, she breathed out four words.

”They got her, John.”

He tried not to let the tension in his body show, tried not to look just how internally panicked he was right now. Simon stiffened, hands balling into fists. Price knew it was a conscious effort to not lash out immediately.

”What.”

Ghosh ground out, eyes narrowed. Soap tried putting a hand on his shoulder, a hand that Simon only shoved off immediately. Laswell just shook her head, looking to be in shock as she only sat down at one of the chairs in the dimly lit room, pulling documents out from a drawer under the long table.

Price was the first to sit, followed by Gaz, then Soap, and finally, Simon who refused to relax, his leg bouncing impatiently under the table, hands on his knees.

Laswell opened one of the files, sliding it around to where they could see it. Lo and behold, it was a picture of you from a few years back, maybe when you’d been 14 or 15. You shouldn’t have been able to get in that early, it shouldn’t have even been possible. You wore a uniform, the file listing you by your first and last name, your callsign in the center. There was no official position or branch like there should’ve been.

“Wasp.”

Price stared at it for a few moments, reading whatever he could glean over in the file before glancing up at Laswell, who in turn pulled another file out. This one looked newer, the corners were not bent or warped yet. When she opened it, there was no picture on file. This time, it stated “Marines” as your branch. Your last name was listed as “Woods” instead of Riley.

To keep Simon from finding you on the database, most likely. Or someone else.

And the thing that caught his attention the most?

The “Captain” title right next to your first name.

”That’s nae possible.”

Soap said, jaw clenched as he glanced at Simon, the man refusing to meet his eye, glaring down at the files.

”It is,”

Laswell said, breathing out a shaky breath. Trying to calm herself, Price knew.

”They found her in a camp at 12, Frank Woods took her in, pulled some strings, and enrolled her early off record. He kept her mostly off base in a safe house until she turned 18.”

Gaz’s gaze was on Laswell now, narrowed, pinned on her. Interrogation was his specialty, after all.

”A camp?”

A nod.

”Essentially a POW camp, her relations to Ghost meant she was a valuable asset to bargain.”

Price didn’t need to glance over at Ghost to see the way he’d nearly stopped breathing, the shock being a common aspect among the group. Gaz let out a deep breath, hand going to hold the brim of his cap, his gloved finger running along the seam.

”Then how the bloody hell is she in high school?”

Simon asked, trying to reason with how this could’ve happened, how you could’ve lied to them, to him, for so long about everything and he’d never even caught on. It hadn’t been a volleyball camp keeping you from attending his mum’s funeral, it had been a POW camp, one you had been in because of him in the first place.

Simon asked, trying to reason with how this could’ve happened, how you could’ve lied to them, to him, for so long about everything and he’d never even caught on. It hadn’t been a volleyball camp keeping you from attending his mum’s funeral, it had been a POW camp, one you had been in because of him in the first place. And the new, somewhat stable foster home you’d been in? A safe house provided by your new foster parent, Frank Woods, an American Sergeant that Simon had heard whispers of.

He’d allegedly been a force to reckon with during the Korean and Vietnam wars, retired now and pushing 60 probably, but no less legendary by military standards.

”She’s 23, Lieutenant. It was a cover mission.”

Another surprise.

Another lie.

“Steamin’ Jesus…”

Soap muttered, the gleam in his eye dimming from what was most likely concern.

”It was an undercover mission, but with her gone, I don’t know how we’ll handle Nova…”

Laswell muttered to herself, catching herself just in time to shut her mouth then and there, probably realizing she’d already said too much, when Price stood up, staring her down.

”Nova? The hell is that?”

He asked sternly, and Laswell gathered the files in her hands, putting them neatly back into stacks, falling back into the controlled woman he usually saw her as.

”That’s classified, John.”

“Considering we’re closely involved with her, I don’t think it is, Kate.”

He saw the slight whiplash it gave her to call her by her first name, which made sense considering it was always Laswell. Her face grew stern, despite the worried frown lines already carving into her face.

”Don’t. We’ll get her back.”

The rest of the boys watched as she walked out of the room, Gaz muttering something sarcastic under his breath, Price pacing, Soap cursing not so quietly under his breath in his full unbridled accent, and Ghost sitting deathly still.

”I’ll talk to Briggs.”

Price said firmly, words stiff as he walked out of the room.

A moment of silence between the remaining three in the room.

Soap was the first to speak.

“Fuck!”

~

The sweet and irony smell of blood filled your nose as you shakily tried to move, limbs trembling for some reason.

Blinking to try and clear the blurriness in them, you opened your eyes, only to begin rapidly blinking as something small and grainy lifted from a sudden draft and blew into your eyes.

Sand.

You hated sand. The way it shifted under your feet, how it got under all your clothing and in your mouth, under your nails, and in your shoes. The grainy, grinding texture of it against your skin when you had a high-stakes mission and had to lie in it, waiting for the perfect shot.

But sand of this texture was in a handful of places, so at least you could narrow your location down a bit. Getting up and looking around would also help.

You were in a small room, from the looks of it, leaning against a wooden beam that dug at the clothing on your back with jagged edges. Textured, colorfully patterned quilts and blankets hung around, and shifting your head to turn right despite how it throbbed, you saw a corkboard filled with pins and images of people, locations, and notes. A few of the faces were recognizable, not in a good way though. Recognizable in the sense that you had seen those faces before you thought you’d killed them.

The sandy floor beneath you had wood underneath, by the feel of it. Your palms pushed against the floor, trying to get the leverage to stand up, only for you to slump against the wood again.

You needed to get up.

This time using your good leg to push against the floor, as well as your palms, you got almost halfway up the beam, nearly standing, when the sand made your foot slide back out and you fell onto the floor again.

A small, breathy chuckle from the other side of the room had you immediately turning your head, the quick movement making it spin slightly, even as you heard the sound of metal moving against the floor as well as only one footstep every few seconds.

“I don’t like the sand either. Hard on my leg, or what’s left of it, anyways.”

The American from earlier came in, maybe Alex? You’d been so disoriented when he’d told you that you could hardly remember. Fragments of foggy bits came to light, but nothing more than that.

His hair was a sandy color, dirty blonde almost, with a mustache and hair that was sticking almost straight up but short enough to not look ridiculous. His one leg was perfectly normal, but on the other, there was a curved piece of metal to replace the lower half of it where a nub was all that was left.

He offered you a hand, one you hesitated before taking. An American soldier wasn’t a threat, or at least shouldn’t be. He pulled you up as you stumbled to your feet.

“Where are we?”

Your raspy voice asked, throat dry. You tried to clear it to no avail. He grabbed a canteen from a table a few feet away, near the corkboard, and handed it to you with the lid already popped off.

“Zaravan City, Urzikstan. We’re not close to much anything, though, this is one of our safe houses.”

He spoke while you chugged the water, it flowing down your throat mercifully and filling your empty stomach, only serving to remind you that you were also starving. Food could wait, though. When you handed the nearly empty canteen back to him with a small sigh, you raised a brow.

“Our?”

A woman’s voice, thick with a familiar accent, spoke then.

“Yes, our.”

She was standing by the corkboard, glancing over the information with a sharp eye, before walking over to Alex. Her hair was dark and thick, tied tightly back into what seemed to be a ponytail beneath her dark garb. A gun hung from her hip, something semi-automatic. You weren’t sure if that was legal or not here, but couldn’t find it within you to care.

“Farah, in case you don’t remember, Riley.”

You were glad she’d told you because you most definitely did not remember her name. Her gaze met yours, and you held it for a long minute, recognizable facial features coming to your mind, like a dream, you could reach but not quite hold. And then—you remembered.

“Karim,”

You breathed, eyes narrowing. General Karim had proven to be more than capable more times than once during the scandals throughout Urzikstan, especially to the boys.

The boys.

You’d nearly forgotten until now, but you wondered just how much they knew. Whether someone had spilled, or Laswell had told them everything. They would probably be biting at the leash, but there was nothing that could be done now, not with the mission having failed.

They were on their own now.

Farah nodded.

“It is not every day we find an American in a Mexican facility,”

A pointed glance at Alex, whose lips curled slightly up at that.

You grumbled, legs still shaky, probably from the gas that had managed to slip in before you’d put the gas mask on doing rounds through your body, the last of it yet to leave. Managing to stumble over to a chair near a small round table in the corner of the room, you sat down, it groaning under your weight.

“Not every day I see a group from America and Urzikstan in a Mexican facility.”

You shot back and watched as Farah and Alex exchanged a glance, a silent conversation happening right in front of you. Rude, but you couldn’t say you hadn’t done the same thing before.

Alex sighed, grabbing the chair with one hand and easing himself down onto it with his leg, propping the prosthetic up on a nearby crate.

His blue eyes met yours as he set one elbow down on the table.

“We were going after Santiago Garza, a key member of their cartel, which we have reason to believe has…”

He exchanged a glance with Farah, who gave a nearly imperceptible shake of her head.

“…access to things he shouldn’t.”

Alex finished. Farah spoke next, already sensing your oncoming interrogation despite not being in control of the situation.

“We answered yours, now answer our question. Why did he want you?”

Her tone was demanding, leaving no wiggle room for you to try and keep anything from her. If this whole arrangement was going to work out, you were going to have to be transparent with them, anyway. Or as transparent as you could be.

“I have a… personal history with the Garza family. Not a pretty one.”

Farah pressed her lips together but didn’t question further.

The American wasn’t as smart.

“What kind of history?”

He asked, brows raised in an almost innocent expression if it weren’t for the gleam of suspicion in his eyes. You shook your head. Not willing to talk about it. Not now. Woods was the only one you’d ever talked to about it, other than David when the bastard was even there.

Which hadn’t been often.

“What’s the date?”

You then asked. If you’d been captured in America, and then taken to a supposed Mexican facility, then to Urzikstan, it must’ve taken quite a while. Not to mention the travel from there to the safe house…

“The 24th.”

Farah answered, hands moving to idly wipe sand off of the barrel of her gun, back leaning against the wooden post. Her finger remained near the trigger. Untrusting.

It had been nearly four days.

By then, someone had to have noticed the body of Nalani in your room, and your obvious absence. A homicide and a missing person’s case as well, most likely. The boys had definitely heard of it then, despite what you assumed was a mission they were on, considering how early they left that volleyball game.

Had Woods been informed? Had anyone on your team been informed, or were they still too deep in their work in your absence?

Alex’s eyes snapped to the window as he heard something rustling outside, and within moments he was down on his haunches, you and Farah were quick to follow as he lifted one of the thin sheets lying over the windows from the bottom, glancing out for a second.

The pain in your limbs was barely even noticeable compared to the mini-adrenaline rush you were flooded with, mind and body sharp and alert. You’d performed while in much worse conditions, you could manage this one just fine, you were sure.

But without a weapon, you were defenseless.

Reaching for a gun that was laid out on the table, Alex’s hand grabbing your wrist stopped you and refused to let you grab it.

“We’ll handle this, stay inside.”

He said in a hushed tone, voice firm, even though Farah was the one with the most authority here over the both of you.

Farah slowly opened the door, peeking out, dark eyes scanning the dusty roads and markets, when several shots rang out, feminine screams following quickly as the sound of people running became all too obvious.

“Al-Qatala.”

Farah murmured, jerking her chin to Alex, before slipping her gun from her side and walking out of the door, the American man giving you one last glance that clearly said “Stay here.” before following.

Racking your brain, you tried to remember anything that might help you. Urzikstan. A small country in Western Asia. Violence wasn’t uncommon, by the sound of it. And Al-Qatala…try as you might, you couldn’t remember anything about whoever they were. Maybe some sort of gang? Probably, judging by the gunfire and angry Arabic being barked out in the streets.

But you weren’t going to be helpless, stuck in this tiny “safe house” that had two entrances and one large window a man could easily fit through. You stood up, careful to stay clear of the window to avoid catching any strays, only to find the gun that had been on the table gone.

Alex must’ve taken it.

They surely had more weapons somewhere, except for the fact that no matter where you searched, there was nothing to be found. Nothing except documents of blacked-out information, pictures on the board, and a small stash of food and water lying around. A lot of dates, too.

It wasn’t an ideal situation, but you could work with it.

A few strands of rope that you quickly picked up were lying around. Every lesson you’d overheard Woods giving to his team, drilling it into their heads, began repeating in your mind. Like a dream, almost.

“Can any of you boys tell me the five rules of guerrilla warfare?”

His voice, sharp and brusque but not hostile, asked the men in front of him.

You were crouched down, hiding in one of the small areas where the metal of the walls dented outwards slightly, giving you an area to lay down and peek through at him.

One of the men raised his hand in a salute, chapped lips opening to speak.

“Hit and run, sir!”

Woods nodded, hand shooting out to point at another man down the line of soldiers. Mostly young boys who stupidly enlisted, living for their country and dying for it. You didn’t see the point, even if Woods did. You’d never seen the point, not even when Simon had enlisted.

He could’ve been one of the dead.

He still might be. You hadn’t seen him in a while.

“Ambush, sir!”

You snapped back into focus at that, eyes watching keenly as the man nodded again. He had a habit of it; nodding very often. Even if you just inclined to take a bite of soup, he’d nod. The praise was sort of nice, you supposed. Even if you barely knew him, just having arrived here a few weeks ago.

They’d found you on one of the starving horses from the camps, near the front of the marching people, leading their way to freedom despite how sickly and beaten most were. You weren’t much better.

And when the bastard controlling that camp must’ve ordered his remaining men to circle like vultures and take out as many of the surviving prisoners as he could?

Everyone alive after the vicious attack had huddled together in a small cave, the people at the entrance usually being shot from overhead planes by the men too cowardly to approach.

They’d found you huddled up, a warm body on top of you, on one of the sides. Thrown you over their shoulder. Taken you away despite your hitting and biting, and brought you here to domesticate you again. They weren’t bad. They were just soldiers. And soldiers were all about duty and honor, two things you couldn’t find within yourself to care about much anymore. You wondered if Simon still cared about them, or if he’d been numb to it for much longer. After the death of his mother, and how pissed he’d been that you’d missed the funeral, you seriously doubted it.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you watched Woods nod again. You must’ve missed the others, but you knew them by heart by now. After watching and listening for so long.

Harassment.

Mobility.

And finally…

“Surprise.”

A hand grabbed you by the arm, yanking you forward and through the wall, through the hole you’d been watching from. Woods held you by the arm infuriatingly easily, which made sense considering how much of a runt you were. Or had been at the time.

The metal had scraped against your shoulder, cutting open a shallow scratch from collarbone to right arm. You glared at him, kicking at him even as his soldiers chuckled.

Laughing at you.

You despised how patronizing it felt, leaning forward and sinking your deceivingly sharp teeth into the wrist of his hand that held you. Blood drew, and he didn’t drop you, simply moving to hold you in his other arm, smiling warmly at you as his shoulders shook from silent laughter.

“Feisty, huh?”

He said in an amused tone, ruffling your hair while someone went to grab a medic.

The memory felt warm and fuzzy, a reminder of a long time ago, though it only felt like yesterday.

But you had more important things to do than have an existential crisis.

Spying a fan in the corner, you pried the metal caging off, wrapping both hands around one of the metal pieces on it, and yanking until a piece came off. Jagged and sharp. Just how you needed it.

Wrapping your little pieces of rope around the base to protect your hand, you crept towards the back exit, listening for the sounds of any footsteps nearby. It would be hard to overhear, especially with the sounds of yelling, screaming, and gunfire in the streets. You wondered if your little makeshift friends had joined the dead or not.

A near-silent step, a branch accidentally cracking under his step, and you were on him.

Hit and run.

The metal slid smoothly into his throat, a quiet wheeze being all he could get out before you leaned his body back, watching his eyes glaze over as the blood ebbed and flowed. You pulled the gun from his hands, searching and taking what was left of his weapons as well.

One flash bang.

One knife, the case of which you strapped onto your hip, the flash bang being tucked into it soon after.

Mobility.

You crouched down, glancing left and right on the street, and breaking into a low sprint to a building down the dusty road. A restaurant by the looks of it. You couldn’t read the Arabic on the front, it having been one of the languages you hadn’t learned, even in your training for Special Forces.

More if the men flooded the streets just as you ducked behind the counter. Letting them all know you were here with gunfire wasn’t beneficial yet, not when you were so badly outnumbered. You needed to find the central point they were getting in from.

You needed to move.

Waiting for the men to pass by, you eventually went out of the back exit of the restaurant, passing the cool chill of its freezer near the kitchen before jumping onto a ladder in the alleyway outside, climbing up, and falling prone onto the ground as soon as you were there.

Looking up over the ledge, you could see now how there were so many.

Trucks were spread about the city, men exiting them and taking cover for a few seconds until they got to where they wanted to be, and started opening fire. They communicated through their radios, but why they would be here didn’t make sense.

Why try to raid a city when you couldn’t gain much, if anything from it?

Unless they weren’t trying to gain but to take someone out.

Someone who had always been against what you assumed was their little group. And that someone was none other than Farah, judging by how quickly she recognized them, and the gleam of hatred in her eyes when she looked at them. She’d been a bit too eager to slaughter them.

And with how quickly the men were flooding the roads and streets, and their communication, it wouldn’t be long until they found her.

Unless…

Glancing at the rooftop a few buildings over, you saw none other than a large tower. Not just any tower, but an antenna tower.

You observed the crowd for a moment, scanning, watching everyone, until you saw it. Heard it, rather, the loud boom it made, the man yelling “RPG!”. It was the second story of the building across the street. You couldn’t get there in time, even if you got over there without being killed or without too many civilians dying.

You needed to buy time.

Gathering the fractures courage left in your body, you got onto the balls of your feet, and against everything you’d been told, to stay quiet and unnoticeable, you began a mad dash across the building, jumping, and not stopping to marvel when your feet hit the solid ground of the other rooftop, only running further.

You still hadn’t gotten his attention.

You were almost to the antenna tower. Now or never.

Harassment.

Slipping the flash bang out of your belt-ish thing, you pulled the pin out, throwing it up in the air. You heard it when it went off, your vision blurring white as you dove and hit the floor. He must’ve heard it too, considering that when you glanced over, the large weapon was aimed at you, and when he fired, you saw it sail through the air not only at you but at the tower as well.

Diving over the edge of the building, you heard the blast, and chunks of debris and wire began raining from the sky in your area. Your ankles burned when you stood, legs screaming against any movement. Ash floated into your nose and throat, as well as the smell of fire, and you took off into another run, diving into a building, only to run face-first into another man.

Ambush.

Your fist met his jaw before his bullet met your body, but barely. You both rolled to the floor, kicking and flailing around, landing hits on each other. He jabbed at you with his gun, his knife out of reach. You rolled him onto his back, your knife coming out, only to be knocked away by his calloused hands.

Your arm went around his neck, hand locking into place with your other elbow as your knee pressed on his neck. Your breathing was pants, more gasps than anything as he gave a final few kicks, before going limp.

You picked your knife back up, head jolting up when you heard a familiar female yell just a few streets down.

The members of the Al-Qatala seemed lost, some shouting to others in Arabic, others going on rampages against civilians just for the hell of it, seemingly. You didn’t doubt that Farah had a small army of her own, but they hadn’t been prepared.

Neither had you.

Sinking lower to not attract attention, you crept through the streets, watching carefully, or as carefully as you could through your blurry vision. Sand and dust blew into it, but you couldn’t find the strength to blink it away.

Your head was throbbing again.

You weren’t sure how you managed the journey there, brain taking a temporary lapse in recording memory maybe, but the next thing you knew, you were near an old warehouse.

Talking came from inside.

A raspy voice. Old, but not kind or warm, not like the voices of the old men you were used to. Harsh and sharp. Like a whip wailing as it flew through the air. Cut paths through it.

“Where is it?”

Silence. As you crept up to the entrance of the warehouse, where the door was just slightly ajar, you could see the outline of Farah tied into a chair. Multiple other men inside. Maybe three or four. Pulling your gun slowly out, you set the handle against your knee, putting your eye right on the scope.

“We know you have the gas, Farah, or should I call you Karim?”

Cruel.

Unnecessary.

But it gave you a kernel of information.

Information you would think about later if you had the time. If you didn’t die here.

A harsh hit to the face. Audible.

You could tell it stung, but she didn’t budge.

You lined the scope up with his head, finger closing in on the trigger, holding down, just not enough until.

Surprise.

The blast of the shot alone rang out through the warehouse. Except it wasn’t who you’d been expecting to fall to the ground who did.

It wasn’t who you’d thought it had been. Not Al-Qatala, not Cartel.

No, instead, Philip Graves, director of the Shadow Company, fell sideways in the dirt.

And the men surrounding Farah?

None other than your own team that had been handed off to Graves during your departure.

Tags:

@yearninglustfully

@kazuyatokue

@kurokitty6

@popcornlauncher

@karleequinn

@sharkluver

@100percentlazybonez

@kiwibao

@juneonhoth

@theyoungeagle

@kee-0-kee

[syoddeye]

step carefully into the dark

330 word gaz drabble. prologue? thinking about this ancient idea about hitchhiker!gaz, and added a sprinkle of serial killer into the mix. unedited.

cw: coerced suicide/murder(?), violence

The flames lick the night sky, eagerly devouring the kindling and accelerant poured as an offering. Kyle lingers a moment longer, watching the fire take, punching through the glass and warping metal.

Cleaner than last time, he muses, lip curling with satisfaction. Adjusting the weight of his bags, he turns and leaves his handiwork behind.

He's a safe distance away when it happens—the low rumble. He spins, carefully walking backward, just in time to catch the small explosion light up the sky. It'll get someone's attention, probably the law, but he feels only peace at the rising plume of smoke. Contentment.

The burning car crackles and pops in his wake, a pyre for the man reclined in the driver's seat. Dan? Don? He can't recall. Poor bastard, he thinks. Too friendly for his own good.

It was quick. One clean shot to the temple. Don had a surprisingly steady hand and only cried a little as Kyle explained what would happen if he didn't man up and do it himself.

Your daughter lives alone, right? It's what you told me. All alone in a big city...Tsk, tsk. With all the monsters roaming free? Anything could happen to her. Ah, ah—you really want to bet who's the faster, better shot, mate?

Dan kept a stiff upper lip as he held the pistol. It surprised Kyle. The first among his kills that wasn't technically executed by his own hand. The first to say yes, to do it themselves. What initiative. He'd remember Don.

Meandering through the dirt and rock, he fixes his eyes on the dark strip ahead, nigh invisible at this hour. By his estimations, it'll take an hour or so to backtrack to the roadside diner he and Dan/Don passed before pulling off. He needs a wash. A plate of sugary food. The ear of some sympathetic soul. Some stupid, soft-hearted stranger who likes accents and easy smiles.

There's one at every rest stop, feels like.

[stuffeddrawer]

i'm feeling fucking miserable rn so

i think gaz would offer a massage (with a happy ending) to keep your mind off of how horrible your day was. boss was breathing down your neck, you kept dropping shit, miscounted money, and suddenly none of that matters when kyle's got his hands on your bare back, methodically massaging the stress away.

also, soap would make it his mission to make you laugh until you forgot why you were even upset in the first place. you missed your alarm, you slept in, missed the train, and were late by ten minutes, nearly lost your damn job and shit just went downhill from there. thank goodness johnny boy was there to make you a basket case of giggles, eh?

and then there's ghost; he'd make sure you're curled up against his chest, bundled up warm, his fingers running up and down your spine, completely and utterly relaxed. you spilled your drink all over your lap, so now you're pissed off and embarrassed. boss steps out for a moment and all hell breaks loose and you can't seem to contact your boss. none of that matters now, however, simon made quick work to make sure you de-stress right where you need to be.

truthfully though, price would be the one to notice almost immediately that something was wrong and encourage you to just vent about it. as much as he wants to fix the problem, he wants you to let it out, even if you're just crying it out. your coworkers were giving you attitude all day, throat feels like it's on fire from trying to be heard over all the yelling, and your head is absolutely pounding and you're certain you've handed out the wrong money to someone, but the more and more you pour your heart out the better you feel, all because john's there to just listen, holding you close and pressing gentle kisses to your temple

[scraftcat]

Happy Mallow Monday!

With a sudden spell of bright sun and a town dedicated to the sea, Mallow and the gang set off to Seaside Town once again. While Bowser is known for his veracious fire breathe and powerful army, it looks like the only thing Keeping him at bay is the fluffy cloud prince and his friends. With Geno on guard duty, Mario and co can finally have a chance for some peace and quiet.

[gothghostiie]

In the spirit of it getting a little colder now I guarantee the boys wrap Kid!Reader in like 10 layers when they go out in winter weather. They just want their little one to be toasty and warm! So you end up waddling out into the fluffy snow like a round little marshmallow with a puffball hat on

oh absolutely. the second the temp sinks and they start even remotely getting chilly kid!reader is done for. the second they even think about going outside they're wrapped up in layers, as much as comfortably possible. and the boys are still worried you might be too cold. price is the only reasonable one, gaz keeps adding socks because that's the first thing to go cold, soap refuses to even let them go outside, ghost gives them a hand painted little skull balaclava so their face doesn't go cold

[tame-the-lion-writes]

Soooo.......141 shifter au, but reader finds out she's a shifter one day. (One of her long ago ancetors being one, and has skipped generations that it was completely forgotten about until you accidentally shifted.) What would Reader be?

(Let’s call this an AU to the AU because the boys are government experiments hehe—)

American cocker spaniel.

And yes, I’m only saying that because Lady and the Tramp 😌☕️

Imagine the puppies aaaa

[machveil]

Collective Writings - MachVeil

Collective Writings Pt 1, Pt 2

thank you all for the support! this post will contain all my fics, blurbs, and mini comics<3 the collection will update as I post and can be viewed from my pinned post here🎀✨ for fics 18+ please read content warnings (CW) - you come first! check the fic before you read it

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

Simon Riley is a hater - reblog + blurb Simon Riley having cuteness aggression - blurb

Simon Riley - shadow boxing/play wrestling/gentle movements - headcanon

Simon “Ghost” Riley being a menace - headcanon

Retired!TF141 owning dogs - blurb

Simon Riley - coloring his tattoos - Instagram link

Cerberus!Ghost - mini comic

Roommate!Simon Riley - tailing you/light sleeper/laundry/cash - headcanon

Dad!Simon Riley - plays/volunteers/helps/teary eyed - headcanon

Roommate!Simon Riley becomes your purse - headcanon

Boyfriend!Simon Riley - hobbies/safety/swaps shoes/trusts his team - headcanon

PlantDad!Simon Riley - headcanon

Boyfriend!Simon Riley - Pinterest/‘Missus’/tattoo/dog tags - headcanon

BestFriend!Simon Riley - looming/drapes his jacket/stares/sleeps over - headcanon

Simon Riley is just a guy - reblog + blurb

Simon “Ghost” Riley is a beer snob - blurb

CoD Headcanon: Parallel Play - headcanon

Husband!Simon Riley - chapstick/nail polish/go-to order - headcanon

Boyfriend!Simon Riley and Roommate!Johnny are a package deal - headcanon

Simon Riley listens to Chapelle Roan - reblog + hashtags

Simon Riley goes shopping with you - headcanon

Write for Simon Riley - mini comic

Simon Riley is low-key a brat - headcanon

Simon Riley plays Minecraft - headcanon

Simon “Ghost” Riley is just a guy - headcanon

Simon “Ghost” Riley is a man of action - fic

(18+, mdni) Simon Riley has reading glasses - fic, fluff, nsfw below the cut

Simon Riley can cook - headcanon

TF141 swimming - headcanon

Retired!Simon Riley - opens a butcher/works with Price/works with the local smithy - headcanon

Retired!Simon Riley - popular butcher/talks to locals/works with Retired!TF141 - headcanon

Domestic!Simon “Ghost” Riley Headcanons - headcanon

Simon Riley x Nerd!Reader - headcanon

Dancing in the Rain - headcanon

Kiss it Better - headcanon

Boyfriend!Simon Riley - civvies/suits/ties/flowers - headcanon

Simon “Ghost” Riley - birth year and age - headcanon

John “Soap” MacTavish:

Soap ate dirt as a kid - blurb

Soap gives bear hugs - blurb

Retired!TF141 owning dogs - blurb

Johnny will drink black coffee - headcanon

Johnny not being picky about food - headcanon

Roommate!Johnny - headlocks/shopping/steals your clothes/scents - headcanon

Soulmate!Johnny - headcanon

Johnny is a mutt - blurb

CoD Headcanon: Parallel Play - headcanon

Boyfriend!Simon Riley and Roommate!Johnny are a package deal - headcanon

Johnny plays The Sims - headcanon

TF141 swimming - headcanon

Kiss it Better - headcanon

König:

König daily sketch - mini comic König gives bear hugs - blurb

CatDad!König propaganda - headcanon

CatDad!König propaganda - if his cat brought back a rat - blurb

CatDad!König - mini comic

König being too tall - blurb

Monster!König fluff - fic

Door frame - blurb

Monster!König being domestic - headcanon

General König Headcanons - personal thoughts - headcanon

Roommate!König - complains/hoodies/sleep/cuddles - headcanon

Monster!König and lethargic period symptoms - headcanon + reblogged with Monster!König and general lethargy

Boyfriend!König loves your puppy - headcanon

Neighbor!König pt 1 - headcanon

König handstand - blurb

König is a hot chocolate snob - blurb

Loser!König info-dumps - reblog + blurb

Neighbor!König pt 2 - fic

Roommate!König - in your room/parallel play/hangs out/alone - headcanon

König is a beer snob - blurb

Neighbor!König - not canon/sees another man - headcanon

König orange peel theory - blurb

Loser!König is just König - headcanon

Retired!König and König, motorcycle/jeep - headcanon

Neighbor!König Headcanons - headcanon

König snacks on bananas - headcanon

FallenAngel!König - headcanon

König and his family’s height - headcanon

König plays Animal Crossing: New Horizons - headcanon

SecretAdmirer!König - headcanon

König wants you to feel special - reblog + blurb

Roommate!König - tails you/laundry/stares/rent - headcanon

Monster!König x M!Reader fluff - fic

(18+, mdni) Loser!König crushing on you - fic

Loser!König aftermath (cont.) - blurb

Dancing in the Rain - headcanon

Artsy!König - headcanon

König and his siblings - reblog + blurb

Kiss it Better - headcanon

Sebastian Krueger:

FallenAngel!Krueger - headcanon

General Thoughts about Sebastian Krueger - headcanon

Kiss it Better - headcanon

18+ Fics:

(18+, mdni) Simon Riley has reading glasses - fic, fluff, nsfw below the cut

(18+, mdni) Loser!König crushing on you - fic

Fic Recommendations:

(18+, mdni) König fics - fluff, nsfw below the cut

(18+, mdni) Simon “Ghost” Riley fics - fluff, nsfw below the cut

thanks again to followers and friends for keeping up with my writing! CoD requests are always welcomed, please review this post before requesting🎀✨ giving you guys a big, fat kiss for being wonderful and I hope to see you around - either in my inbox or notifications<3 CoD themed dividers are free to use curtesy of @gild-ui, please give them some love

[writersdrug]

Johnny "Soap" Mactavish is the kind of dad who throws your kids around for fun, tossing them into the air and catching them just to hear their infectious laughter, ignoring the worrisome protests that you call out from the kitchen when they get a little too high.

Captain John Price is the kind of dad who convinces your children to ask you for pizza for dinner, acting all surprised when you tell him to call the local pizza place, eyebrows rising with "What's the occasion?" despite the obvious grin that his plan worked. You aren't fooled.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick is the kind of dad who chases your kids around with a nerf gun, relentlessly pelting them with styrofoam bullets and ganging up on your oldest son with your youngest daughter. Waits behind the front door for your son to get home from school and immediately fires on him.

Simon "Ghost" Riley is the kind of dad who holds your toddlers like footballs, your daughter tucked sideways under his arm and dangling your son by his ankle. "Found these mice sniffin' 'round the cookie tin." He says with a deadpan expression, but you don't miss the way his mouth twitches when they giggle and shriek.