#TaskForce141

[certifiedyapperx]

imagine you’re dating ghost and no one knows. the two of you have kept it a secret on your end and his just for your protection— because ghost knows what could happen if someone finds out, how someone might try and target you to get to him, or worse, given his line of work.

but then imagine that he’s on a mission, interrogating some piece of filth ready to decorate the fucking wall with his brain matter when the guy says “you know what, simon, killing me would be the biggest mistake of your life.”

immediately ghost would pause, eyes narrowed, though his hardened demeanour wouldn’t fade much, he’d just blankly stare at the prick like “oh yea? n’ why don’ you tell m’ why.”

the shit-eating grin that would crawl across that fuckers lips would have ghost ready to kill him right then and there, but then he’d say “reach in my pocket. pull out my phone.”

id like to think ghost would have absolutely none of this assholes bullshit, not at all entertained by his theatrics. i’d like to think he’d just press the muzzle of his gun to the fuckers temple within an instant, all teeth barred and ready to get it over with when the guy would add,

“your girlfriend is a fucking beauty, isn’t she?”

everything would pause. ghost, time, the world, air, the universe itself—the life that would drain from ghosts face would almost be enough to make his alias a reality. his heart pounding in his throat, his fingers fucking trembling as he immediately reached into the assholes pocket to find his phone—a picture of a woman tied up (face not in view however) lighting up on the home screen. there’d be no thinking rationally, no thoughts in ghosts head except for making sure you were fucking okay. he’d do whatever he’d have to do, kill the guy, leave him strapped there, whatever—he’d be out of that room in two seconds flat and personally flying the helicopter back to your house calling you nonstop every fucking second until you answered.

“hello? si?”

he’d wait a second before answering. taking everything in. background noises, the inflection of your voice. it sounds calm, maybe too calm? he’s grasping his phone so fucking hard it’s a miracle it hasn’t shattered between his fingers.

“princess,” he breathes, fighting with everything in him to keep his voice steady. “see any birds today?”

though it was a genuine question, it also was an established one. ghost had set up a series of questions for a situation precisely like this. if you said blue jay, it meant you were fine, at home, as usual. if you said crows, it meant you weren’t.

“oh just the usual blue jays, si.” he could almost hear the smile on your lips. “everything okay? i miss you.”

ghost would exhale a shattered breath. “i’m coming home.”

and then he’d show up, not all but a few hours later, hands still trembling slightly, heart rate still struggling to regulate. it was too much, reminding him too much of his past traumas, he knew he needed to find better protection for you, but that was a conversation for another time.

he’d come in the house, barely even taking the time to shut the door behind him, almost frenzied again, relentless, unable to relax until he could finally lay eyes on you. and then, the second he did, he’d just pause and look at you, all messy hair and pyjamas still on, in the kitchen cooking breakfast for you both since you knew he was on his way.

and he wouldn’t say a goddamn word, he’d just come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist, hugging you so tight you’d hardly be able to breathe, his face buried in your hair and his heart thumping at your back. you’d feel the pain the fear the anxiety radiating off him and you wouldn’t try to say anything because you knew he needed this, you knew he needed to see you, hold you, feel your pulse stable and alive. you knew he just needed a moment to breathe.

and so the two of you would stand there like that for a while, and then he’d take a big inhale and spin you around to face him, pulling up his mask to plant soft kisses on your jaw.

“i love you so fuckin’ much.”

[remiebear]

Too much catnip!!!

[band--psycho]

Poly!141 x Reader - Stop The Wedding (Part 3)

Thank you all so much for the love you're giving this story! It honestly means so much to me! 💛

I hope you all enjoy this part 💛

Please be kind, reblogs are always welcome and greatly appreciated! Thank you for all the continued support 💛

Requests are open so if you have any ideas/requests, you're more than welcome to send them over (thank you to everyone who's requested a story so far, I'm working my way through them!)

I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or translated onto this site or other platforms!

Catch up on the previous part here, Part 1 / Part 2 /Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

COD Modern Warfare Masterlist /Taskforce 141 Masterlist /Join My Taglist

Y/f/n - your friends name

Warnings: Pettines, hurt, mentions of breakups, feelings of anger, jealousy and regret

Did Simon believe that going to the coffee shop that you worked in was a good idea? 

No. 

He thought the exact opposite; that it was an awful idea, which is why he’d tried to persuade Johnny from going there at all.

But Johnny was headstrong and determined that he wanted to see you; and Simon knew Johnny was going to go there with or without him, which was the only reason Simon agreed to go. 

At least, that’s what he told Johnny. 

He knew how hurt and angry the Scotsman was about the news of you getting married; and even if he wasn’t as vocal as Johnny, Simon was feeling a similar hurt, too. 

He missed you. 

He couldn’t bear it; thinking about you being with somebody else…when you should’ve been with them. 

He knew why John decided what he did; believing that ending their relationship with you was for the best.

To protect you. 

Simon believed it, too.

That’s why he agreed to it, why he persuaded Johnny to get on board with the idea; but that didn’t make this situation easier.

Seeing you in pain was like a bullet to the heart. 

He knew you’d move on, told himself that he’d be able to handle it, but he couldn’t. 

That's why he agreed with Johnny that they needed to stop this wedding from happening.

Jonny bolted out of the car and practically ran to the coffee shop, eager to see you, but when he opened the door, Simon noticed him freeze in the doorway. 

He quickly came to his partner’s side, following his gaze directly to you. 

Your apron was wrapped around your waist, your black shirt sleeves rolled up, as you cleaned the table in front of you with a focused attention. 

You still looked the same as you did two and a half years ago, except now you weren’t fighting back tears that were clearly building in your beautiful y/e/c eyes, like you had been the last time they’d seen you. 

They both watched as one of your colleagues came up behind you, distracting you from the cleaning trance you’d been in. 

“Hey, I’m just gonna take a quick smoke break before you leave; can you just serve those two guys for me?”

They heard your colleague say to you. 

Simon thought about walking away for a fleeting moment, but before he could decide anything; Johnny decided for him and began walking over to the counter. 

The counter that you were now behind. 

Simon followed Johnny over the counter; mentally preparing for the shit show that was about to play out, knowing that you probably didn’t want to see either of them.

~~~~~~

‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ you thought to yourself, watching as two more of your exes, Simon Riley and Johnny McTavish, made their way over to the counter. 

“Fancy seeing you here, Bon,” Johnny smiled, his eyes locked on you; Simon was staring at you too, though his face remained neutral, avoidant of any emotion. 

You wished you could say that their visit surprised you; but unlike John’s visit earlier this afternoon, you were relatively prepared for this. 

You’d messaged your friend Y/f/n, as soon as John had left, ranting about the audacity he had to show up the way he did and continuously call you sweetheart like you were still together and simply had a fight. 

Of course Y/f/n replied promptly with a message of, “What the fuck!! That’s so weird! I saw the Scottish guy earlier, too.”

Followed up with another message saying, “I told him how happy you are now and that you’re getting married!”

Your friends’ messages explained John’s sudden appearance at your workplace; and part of you expected the others to be visiting imminently…but you had to admit, seeing them after such a long time made you feel weird, like you were stuck in a Déjà vu loop. 

“Well, I do work here,” you quipped back; the same forced smile you’d given John earlier was on your lips; but there was a bluntness to your voice now. 

Johnny blinked a few times, clearly shocked by the tone of your voice; his shock seemed to disappear quickly though, replaced with an all too familiar smile on his lips. 

The same smile that you’d fallen in love with all those years ago. 

“What can I get for you today?” You continued, reminding yourself mentally to remain calm and professional. 

You only had a few more minutes left of your shift and then you had the next few days off; meaning that all you had to do was serve them and then you’d be able to spend time with your Fiance. 

“Tea for him, you know how he likes it,” Johnny began nodding over to Simon briefly before turning his eyes back to you, “And for me, surprise me, I trust ye, Bon”

You told Johnny the total; biting back a smile at the pure shock on his face as he pulled out of his wallet, paying for the drinks and then you got to work on making them.

It was true, just like you knew how to make John’s coffee, you also knew how to make Simon’s tea. 

He liked a simple tea. 

None of the flavoured ones like raspberry or mint, just normal English Breakfast tea, black with two sugar cubes. 

Is that what you gave him? 

No. 

Of course not. 

You instead gave him the extremely popular berry infused tea, and you did so with a smile on your face and a little wicked glint in your eyes. 

Simon unbeknownst to you; noticed the look in your eyes; and sipped the drink without hesitation, saying nothing in response to the incorrectly made drink. 

You did, however, notice the small smirk tugging at the side of his mouth, suggesting that he was impressed with what you had just done. 

You tried to ignore the heat that was rising to your cheeks at such a small action; turning your attention to making Johnny’s drink. 

He did say to surprise him. 

So you did exactly that; with a drink, you he hated. 

A matcha latte. 

You remember when you were dating, and you brought one back from work and he nearly spat it out when he tried it. 

“There you go,” you said, the smile on your lips no longer fake, instead smug as hell, “Enjoy,”

Johnny opened his mouth to say something, but thankfully, your colleague arrived back from her smoke break before he could. 

“Is mister lover man picking you up today?” She asked with a light giggle in her voice. 

“He is,” you beamed, before walking away from the counter and Simon and Johnny and towards the door labelled ‘STAFF ONLY’, quickly disappearing on the other side of it.

You grabbed your hoodie and bag from your locker, blurting goodbye to your colleague as you walked out of the coffee shop.

You knew Simon and Johnny were watching you; you could feel their eyes locked onto you as you made your way past them, purposefully ignoring them.

You didn’t care if they watched.

Especially not when you noticed your finances car parked outside. 

You knew that, at least for the next few days; that you wouldn’t be seeing any of your exes again. 

No, for the next few days all you were going to be focusing on was spending some much needed quality time with your Fiancé and wedding preparations. 

That was your priority. 

Thinking about the man you were going to be spending the rest of your life with. 

Instead of thinking about the people that broke your heart. But you couldn’t help the brief thought that flashed through your mind; the one had haunted you for months after the breakup.

What did you do wrong for John to break up with you on behalf of himself and the others…

You quickly pushed the thought from your mind, as you got into your finances car; you’d barely even left the car park before you felt the familiar and reassuring presence of his hand resting on your thigh.  

“How was your day, honey?” He asked warmly, his south Texan accent filling your ears, making you feel at ease instantly as you placed your hand over his, interlocking your fingers.

“Let’s just say I’m glad it’s over,”

Tagging:

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[httpsghostie]

141 with a high maintenance s/o

warnings: none!

✧.* gaz would find it cute and he'd be mesmerized by your routine right before you went to sleep. "what's that for?" he'd ask as you applied moisturizer, carefully massaging your face. he also would be happy to be involved, he wanted to be part of it too just so he could spend more time with you, he'd even let you do his eyebrows if you wanted. feel like he would buy your skincare products, you mentioned a serum you wanted to try? next day it would be in your stuff. poor thing just wants to see you happy.

✧.* ghost would be a bit annoyed at first, you complaining about your cuticles and how your nail just broke and you have to fix it, but he would just love to see you getting all pretty and happy to get them done. he not so secretly enjoys watching you put on makeup, asking 'what is it?' for every single product, and you have to explain everything, but it's funny, it's like a youtube channel. he would also be really scared of you when you were doing your eyebrows and couldn't get them right and had to deal with you screaming at him.

✧.* price would be stunned by how soft is your skin, letting the guys know that you've been trying out some new hair products and that they should bring up how pretty your hair is, even if they don't notice anything. he'd let you sit on his lap on the toilet lid to apply skincare on him, and he would also let you trim his beard to make him look well put, as he says. he would also give you a lot of expensive gifts just to remind you that you're his pretty little princess.

✧.* soap would be the most hyped about it, for sure, following you around at the mall and carrying all of your bags, giving you a relaxing massage after a long day of walking around and shopping, giving extra attention to your feet until you practically fell asleep. then he'd realize you hadn't put on your sleeping mask and neither your satin cap and he would do just as that. isn't the best on gifting but will definitely take you out on fancy dates and vacations.

[novalityy]

No going back.

⋆·˚ ༘*🔭 In which a call is way more concerning than it seemed.⋆·˚ *🔭

Warnings *ੈ✩‧₊˚ - Blood, fighting, arguments, framing, crying, torture, taskforce 141 being mean, angst, comfort later.

Call of duty taskforce 141 x reader.

Hi, lol i'm back. Sorry I deleted my blog all of a sudden. I had to go for a long time, it's been a year? I'm going to rewrite the original story since i kindaa... deleted them..IM SORRY.

Blood trickled from your forehead, warm and sticky, as the dull ache in your skull pulsed with your racing heartbeat. The throbbing in your head was intense, but it paled in comparison to the crushing weight of betrayal in your chest. You groaned, instinctively trying to lift a hand to your temple, only to find your wrists bound tightly together. The rough bite of the restraints against your skin pulled you fully into the present. Forcing your eyes open, you took in your surroundings. The room was unmistakable—your base’s interrogation chamber.

Empty, save for you.

Your mind raced, piecing together the fragmented memories of how you ended up here. When you answered Price’s call this morning, this was the last place you expected to find yourself.

The morning had started innocuously enough. Your phone buzzed insistently, dragging you from the haze of sleep. Grumbling, you fumbled for it under your pillow, blindly swiping to answer.

“Hello?” you mumbled, your voice thick with sleep.

Silence.

You pulled the phone away to glance at the screen. Price. His name stared back at you, ominous and foreboding.

“Price?” you tried again, sitting up now.

His voice, when it came, was clipped and cold. “I expect you at the base in 30 minutes.”

Before you could respond, the line went dead. You stared at the phone, unease curling in your stomach. Price was rarely one for pleasantries, but the venom in his tone was unmistakable.

Shaking off the lingering fog of sleep, you swung your legs out of bed and padded to the bathroom. The mirror reflected the toll of your last mission—dark circles under your eyes, a faint bruise along your jaw. You sighed, splashing cold water on your face before pulling on a pair of blue jeans and a plain white shirt.

Breakfast could wait. The urgency in Price’s voice left little room for delay. Grabbing your keys, you locked up and drove to base, the gnawing anxiety in your gut growing stronger with every mile.

As you arrived, the atmosphere was palpably different. Conversations hushed as you walked past, and familiar faces turned away, avoiding your gaze. The unease in your stomach churned into something darker.

By the time you reached Price’s office, your nerves were frayed. Knocking on the door, you pushed it open and froze. Four men were inside, their expressions grim. Gaz wouldn’t meet your eyes, staring down at his feet. Soap’s usual easygoing demeanor was absent, his jaw set tightly. Ghost loomed in the corner, his unreadable mask doing little to hide the tension radiating from him. And Price… Price’s eyes burned with something you couldn’t quite name but feared all the same.

“So?” you asked, your voice wavering despite your efforts to keep it steady. “You called me here. What’s going on?”

Price exhaled a cloud of smoke, his cigar nearly crushed in his grip. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and dangerous. “Drop the act. Tell me everything. Now.”

Confusion twisted your features. “What are you talking about?”

Price’s response was immediate and explosive.

He slammed his hand down on the desk, the force rattling the items atop it.

“I AM NOT IN THE MOOD FOR GAMES, OPERATOR! CONFESS, AND I MIGHT SPARE YOU HALF OF WHAT’S COMING!”

The words hit you like a physical blow. Operator. Not your name. Whatever this was, it was serious.

You glanced at the others, searching for an ally, but found none. Even Soap looked away when your eyes met his.

“Please,” Soap said softly, his voice almost pleading. “Just tell him. It’ll be worse if you don’t, bonnie.”

Your throat tightened. “Tell him what?” you demanded, anger starting to edge into your voice. “If this is some sick joke, it’s not funny. I don’t know what you think I’ve done, but—”

The door creaked open, cutting you off. A young cadet stepped inside, tall and blonde, his sharp blue eyes locking onto you with cold calculation. Recognition flickered—you’d seen him around the base, but you’d never exchanged more than a few words.

Price gestured to him. “Tell her.”

The cadet’s voice was steady, rehearsed. “I have proof that you’ve been leaking critical intel to Makarov.”

The room spun. You stared at him, then at the others, waiting for someone to laugh, to call this out for the absurdity it was. But no one did. Instead, Ghost’s voice cut through the silence, cold and sharp.

“We believe him.”

Your gaze snapped to him, disbelief written across your face. “Simon…”

“Don’t call me that,” he growled. “We’re not that familiar anymore.”

The words were a knife to the chest. You turned to Price, desperation creeping into your tone. “Show me the proof.”

He slammed a file onto the desk. You snatched it up, flipping through the pages. The evidence was damning—emails, login records, reports. It painted a picture so convincing you almost doubted yourself. Almost.

But the dates didn’t line up. The locations didn’t match. It was sloppy work, something you’d never do if you were guilty.

You threw the file back onto the desk. “You seriously think I did this?”

“Yes,” came the unanimous response.

Anger and heartbreak warred within you. “You’ve known me for years! You’re taking the word of some cadet over me?”

Gaz and Soap stepped forward, gripping your arms as you surged toward Price.

“Let me go!” you shouted, struggling against them. “You can’t seriously believe this!”

Price’s voice was ice. “Take her to the room.”

Panic clawed at you as they dragged you down the hall. “No! This is a mistake! I didn’t do it!”

They shoved you into the interrogation chamber. Before you could regain your footing, a fist connected with your face, sending you sprawling. You looked up to see Ghost towering over you, his eyes like flint.

“Couldn’t even wait to strap me down?” you spat, blood dripping from your lip.

“You’re a traitor,” he said flatly. “If it were up to me, you’d already be dead.”

The words shattered something inside you. He hauled you up by your hair, ignoring your struggles, and strapped you into the chair.

Price entered, knife glinting in his hand. “Last chance,” he growled.

“I didn’t do it,” you whispered, tears streaming down your face.

The blade plunged into your thigh, and you screamed.

The betrayal, more than the pain, was unbearable.

＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚

MAN I STRUGGLED, i hope i did well....ty ly

[cutiecusp]

Galentines, a 141 drabble.

Just a little fluff for us girlies, happy Galentines!

.........................

"What's all this for?" John asks, as you put another handful of pink and red in the trolley, smile beaming as you deposit chocolates, decorations, and snacks.

"Its Galentines!" You smile, eyes shining.

"The girls and i get together, bring a dish, and watch rom coms or something together, with a few games and snacks. It's my chance to show the love for my girlfriends this year."

John smiled, seeing his birdie radiating happiness always put him in a good mood.

"So what do you need?" He asks, his Captain brain mentally checking off things on a list.

"I have decorations, and sweets, i just need something for the girls to drink, and then i can go home and set up."

Nodding, John turns the trolley to the drinks aisle.

"Want those fancy straws and cups we had for your birthday?" He asks over his shoulder, smirking at the heart eyes you give him.

"Perfect." You reply, throwing your arms around his middle.

./././././././././././././././

"Babe, the girls are over later, can you pass me the baking tray?" You ask Johnny, who was wolfing down his cereal, staring at his phone.

"Johnny!" You say a little louder, startling him.

"What do you need, hen?" He replies, putting his phone down.

"The baking tray, im making those heart pastries for the girls tonight."

He hands you the tray, a furrow in his brow.

"Have i forgotten something?"

You roll your eyes, lately Johnny had been glued to his phone, so probably didn't even hear you talk about your plans.

"Galentines, the party?" You remind him gently.

A look of recognition passes over him, getting out of the chair, he wraps his arms around you, burying his face into your neck.

"M'sorry lovie. Just had a lot on my mind." He apologises, pressing a kiss to your neck.

"Gotta head out early today, need anything for your party?" He asks. You reply with a shake of your head.

With a quick kiss on your cheek, he heads out the door, waving to you from the car.

"Wonder what has him up so early?" You muse.

Little did you know, he's been planning a valentines surprise, and was waiting on the notification on his phone to say it was ready.

./././././././././././././././././././

"The red ones or the pink ones?" Kyle asks, holding out both pairs of shoes from your closet, trying not to stare at you in your pretty outfit.

"I think the red?" You mull over, taking them both and trying them on, walking around your flat.

You and Kyle had been friends for a really long time, so when the opportunity arose that you needed a flatmate, he was the perfect person to ask. Little did you know, he had feelings for you that you matched with your own.

"R-red's good babe." he admits, watching the way the heels made your legs look longer, he wonders what they would look like wrapped around his hips.

You smile, fiddling with the buckles on the ankles before standing up to your full height, even in heels you came up to Kyles chin.

"You look pretty, where are you and the girls headed tonight?" He asks, focusing his gaze on yours.

"The cocktail bar in town, then i think Harriet wants to go to the strip club, they have a male show on tonight." you reply, a little blush fluttered over your cheeks. You wonder what it would be like to have Kyle dance for you.

"Ah, strippers, cocktails, heels.. bad combo, will you need picking up?" Kyle smiles, a dimple flashing in his cheek.

"You read my mind, if you don't mind waiting up?" You laugh, your eyes shining with mirth.

"Let me know when you need me, and i'll be there." With a deep look, you realise Kyle meant so much more than just tonight.

You lean in, the night now charged with a thick tension.

"Promise?" you murmur, eyes not leaving his.

"Promise." He answers easily, before taking you into his arms, pressing a soft kiss on your lips.

./././././././././././././././

"I miss you." You say into the phone, Your face appearing on Ghost's screen.

"I know, love. But I'm home soon." A gruff voice answers.

"Did you get my flowers?"

You smile, panning the phone back to show him the vase and the matching flowers, a mixture of the darkest tulips and lilies he could find.

"I did, and i love them. Thank you." You beam.

"And you are all ready for the girls thing tonight?" He asks, his voice softening as he relaxes in his chair.

"I am, nice to have the girls over, but-" You pause, not wanting to add the the guilt you knew he was feeling already.

"I know, soon." He finishes your sentence for you.

You hear a commotion on his end, and the call drops suddenly, you send him a text to say you will ring him after the girls leave.

You spend the day prepping food, and making sure the house is clean, along to a playlist of all your favourite alternative love songs.

The party is a success, the girls took your mind off Simon for the night, facemasks, a movie marathon and enough snacks to shake a stick at made you appreciate your girlfriends more.

Shortly after midnight, and the last girl had gone, you heard a key in the door, and there he was.. With a massive smile on his face.

"Told ya it would be soon, love." he mumbles into your hair as you pounce on him, pressing kisses all over his face.

"Happy Valentines."

././././././././././././././.

@kaeyasfuturewife @xoxunhinged @muneca-lemon-steppa @gardenof-venus @misshugs @soraya-daydreams @frudoo @renpodz @yesornowaitidontknow @thevoiceinyourheadx @shadowdark00 @rynbeerose @lunamoonbby @incredible-walker @identity2212 @pukbadger @urbimom @corvid007 @wordsfromshona @shadows-empress @m00xy @canyonmooncreations @oniraki @evie-119 @havoc973 @kylies-lover-blog @ishipdabands @cmbghost @heckinspooks @midwesternwitchery @eggy-yoke @redzluvvesage @masterclassofescapism @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @skeletonsucker

[cryingpages]

You cant tell me that Soap wouldn't give these to others if he'd get his hands on them

[python333]

task force 141 reacting to [reader] clinging to them — python333

— — — —

synopsis just as the title says bb!! just some headcanons of the boys reacting to the reader clinging to them and basically following them around like a lost puppy!

relationships platonic!tf141 & reader.

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

warnings written in 2nd person pov [you/your/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign], non-scottish reader [or could be read as scottish with less of an accent], probably ooc :{

note this is so. self indulgent. BUT i need to get my thoughts out rn about these boys because its too much to contain my silly little brain won't let this go and i need to just hdjhsdfjdhj. if anyone wants to request something for me to write pls do it because this is the only thing thats gotten me out of my writers block.

JOHN "BRAVO SIX" PRICE

➥ i honestly don’t even think he’d notice at first.

➥ about a week after you’d gotten to know everyone on the team and started to get used to their quirks, you decide your target to cling onto is gonna be price… because why not?

➥ when i say cling i mean following him around like a lost puppy, just about watching his every move, basically being his shadow.

➥ it’s not until about three days of you doing this when he realizes you’re shadowing him.

➥ when he confronts you about it, it’s less of a confrontation and more like him saying “... do you need something?” and then brushing it off when you shake your head ‘no’.

➥ he’s not really irritated or angry about it, more confused but generally okay with it.

➥ so when he realizes you’re gonna be doing this often, he can’t tell whether he should feel honored or bothered.

➥ spoilers: he ends up feeling honored. it’s his fatherly instincts, y’all already know.

➥ he’s awkward about it at first, now that he actually knows you’re following him, he’s constantly checking over his shoulder and — yep, you’re still there.

➥ so he doesn’t confront you about it again, and just lets you follow him around, and once y’all get closer he teases you for following him around like a duckling would with its mother.

—

You’d been following Price around for a few days now. He hadn’t noticed so far, thank God, but he was definitely close to finding out. You could see the way he’d occasionally glance over his shoulder and see you following him, then keep eye contact with you for a moment before going on with his day — which really confused you at first, but who cares as long as he’s not stopping you? — and letting you follow him.

You had been following him out of habit. You didn’t mean to follow him in particular, it just… happened. Something about his demeanor, you’d convinced yourself, He just feels safe. It’s inexplicable and we will not be diving into my underlying issues to figure out why he feels safe.

So when he’d confronted you about it—or, asked you about it is probably more accurate—with a questioning tone and the words, “Did you need something?”, you shook your head ‘no’, and that was that. The older man had looked at you for another second, eyes looking over your expression as if trying to read you like a book, then went on with his day. You had let out a sigh of relief, and continued your little routine of following him around and being his little shadow.

—

JOHN “SOAP” MACTAVISH

➥ he’s such a silly guy, man.

➥ he’d notice but pretend he didn’t, just for the sake of seeing how long you’ll follow him.

➥ if anyone points out your presence he’ll ignore it and change the subject.

➥ of course, once he realizes you aren’t letting up your clinginess, he confronts you about it in the most professional way possible!

➥ “Do ye trail everyone ‘round like that, or am I jist special?”

➥ it takes you a moment to figure out what he just said because holy fuck that accent is THICK.

➥ but you figure it out after a quick moment of thinking and struggle to respond, before offering a quiet, “... Uh. I guess you’re just special?”

➥ he is very happy about this.

➥ he nods approvingly and goes on with his day, letting you trail behind him.

➥ he really doesn’t mind, and actually enjoys having you trail behind him.

—

Following around Soap was more of a challenge than you’d intended. It was fun, for the most part, and you liked that he didn’t acknowledge you at all. The main reason you had kept following him was because he didn’t bother you at all, and didn’t even glance back at you as you followed him, no, he simply let you follow him around and shadow him all day.

Of course, you still had training and practice, but the moment you had gotten out of the showers and were done for the day, you’d gone back to following Soap, once you’d found him. Your daily routine was basically: wake up, eat breakfast, follow Soap, go to the training room and follow your CO’s orders, shower and eat lunch or dinner, find Soap, follow Soap, sleep, repeat.

Then one day, on a particularly idle day, Soap had turned to you and popped the question — “Do ye trail everyone ‘round like this, or am I jist special?”

Maybe you were just being dramatic, but holy fuck , his accent made it almost sound like he was speaking a whole different language. You process his words for a moment, before responding with a quiet, “Uh… I guess you’re just special?”

He seemed pretty satisfied with that answer and never really bothered you with it again.

—

SIMON “GHOST” RILEY

➥ he realizes immediately and ohhh boyyyyyy.

➥ “Do you need something?” “Did you need something?” “Why are you following me?” “Stop following me.” “Do you need something?”

➥ he is. Very bothered.

➥ constantly looking over his shoulder just to find your annoying ass following him.

➥ will always ask you why you’re following him, and when you shrug or give a bullshit excuse, he gives an exasperated sigh and goes on with his day.

➥ sometimes he’d even try to lose you in the crowd, and when you miraculously continue to follow him through it, he’d somehow become even more miserable. it’s impressive, your dedication to following him around like this.

➥ he’ll warm up to it eventually, maybe a month or two after you’ve started following him.

➥ by month one he’ll stop constantly asking you why you’re following him, and by month two he’ll stop constantly glancing over his shoulder.

➥ and eventually, he’ll stop trying to lose you in the crowds, and instead look for the easiest way to get through them with you trailing behind him.

—

Ghost should’ve known from the moment you persisted with your following of him through thick and thin that you’d never give this up. Honestly, it’s impressive how dedicated you are to trailing behind him like a little shadow, never even speaking to him, just following him.

However, Ghost could persist as well.

You’d follow him around as much as possible, starting at the break of dawn and briefly pausing your following to do whatever training your CO instructed and then resuming your following till curfew. Day after day, Ghost would interrupt your following by questioning it, then when given an answer, he’d give an exasperated sigh and storm off, not waiting for you to catch up.

At first, he thought you wanted to win over some sort of attention or affection from him. So, he made sure not to give you any. He didn’t spare a single moment for you, besides glancing at you over his shoulder and questioning your presence, and yet you continued to follow him. So he experimented with it a bit — he didn’t spare a single glance at you one day, didn’t speak to you one bit, didn’t do anything. Just went around as if you weren’t there. And yet, you continued to follow him, not put off by his behavior at all.

So, he just stopped thinking too much about you, in the nicest way possible. He wouldn’t glance back at you and question your presence, but he also wouldn’t try and lose you around the base. He wouldn’t storm off and leave you running to catch up. Sometimes, he even forgets you’re there at all. He warms up to it, albeit after a few months, but he still warms up to it nonetheless.

—

KYLE “GAZ” GARRICK

➥ i think he’d notice fairly quickly but wouldn’t point it out right away.

➥ like, he’d glance over his shoulder and see you following him, but gaslights himself into thinking you’re just trying to get to the same place he is, so he doesn’t confront you about it or anything.

➥ so when he realizes that you’re following him and not just trying to get to the same place he is, he’s kind of weirded out, but still doesn’t confront you.

➥ he’ll ask soap for some help on what to do and the damn idiot just goes ‘[c/n] probably has a crush on you’ so now gaz thinks you have a crush on him.

➥ i mean, he’s flattered, but also he has no idea who you are, so…

➥ he’s now even more awkward.

➥ so then he goes to price for help,

➥ and price is just a tinge more reasonable.

➥ price tells gaz that you’re probably just shadowing him because you see him as some sort of mentor, or maybe there was someone in your past that was similar to gaz and you followed them around as well.

➥ his reasoning doesn’t help all that much, because what the fuck is gaz supposed to do with that, but whatever.

➥ he really doesn’t know what to do about you, to be honest.

➥ after way too long, he asks you why you’re following him.

➥ and when you shrug or give an excuse as to why you’ve been trailing behind him ever since you’ve gotten here, he shrugs back and goes on with his day.

➥ doesn’t mind all that much, so yippee!!

➥ eventually, when you two get closer, he tells you that you can walk by his side instead of behind him.

—

Making Gaz your target was probably the best idea you’ve ever had.

He’s pretty quiet, doesn’t actively try to get you to go away, and best of all, he really just walks around and does any tasks he needs to. It’s oddly nice, just watching him do his work. He doesn’t talk to himself under his breath like Soap or Price does, and doesn’t do his work in complete silence like Ghost does. He’ll often hum to himself or whistle, a noise that’s quickly become weirdly comforting to you.

It’s kind of disappointing realizing you have to go off to training, honestly. Following Gaz around has quickly become the pinnacle of your day. Which sounds really sad now that you think of it, but who cares.

About a month of you following him later, he finally asks you why you’re following him. In the nicest way possible, of course.

“Is there a reason you’ve been following me around all month?”

When you shrug or give an excuse for your actions, he thinks about your words (or your wordless shrug) for a moment and mutters a quiet, “Alright, then,” and goes on with his day.

[hauntedbubbles]

Since I wouldn't accept that OG Modern Warfare gave us Captain MacTavish, only for reboot Soap to never survive past Sargeant (!?😩) I've been sitting on a theory that Black Ops 6 might have actually confirmed and I can't keep this to myself any longer!

This could be spoilery for BO6's campaign, so if you haven't played it yet, come back later, maybe? 👀

In the "Emergence" mission in BO6 you are introduced to the effects of the "Cradle" a virus created by a disbanded division of the CIA, known as "Pantheon". A virus that is later weaponised and you experience first hand what this yellow gas can do... 🧟‍♀️🧟‍♂️🧟

Some folks voiced their displeasure about how un-cod it was... personally this mission was all the confirmation I needed that maybe my working theory wasn't as far fetched as I thought it could be 👀

I was going to ramble and infodump all the little things I'd been making note off, but instead I decided to make it a thing... With a Blender piece I did, because why not? 🙌🏻

👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻

Konni Research Division

Date: October 17, 2024

Project Lead: Dr. Aleksandr Gustev, Head of Advanced Pathological Research

————————————————————————

PANTHEON NEUROGAS “CRADLE VARIANT K" CASE STUDY: SERGEANT JOHN “SOAP” MACTAVISH

————————————————————————

Current Project Objectives

Konni Research Division’s objectives are to further refine the Cradle compound—specifically, the “Cradle Variant K” strain—to allow for long-term memory suppression, reality manipulation, and controllable cognitive reprogramming.

————————————————————————

Following the success in London, Cradle Variant K far surpassed our initial expectations. Not only were we successful in deceiving the Task Force into believing Sergeant MacTavish was KIA at the hands of the Commander, we have laid the groundwork for further applications of the Pantheon's weaponised neurogas on a larger scale.

Additionally, the changes made to the Cradle strain appears to have maintained the diminished uncontrollable rage as observed in our earlier controlled trials.

Curiously, the illusion may have directly fueled the sense of vengeance that drove Captain Price to retaliate in an unexpected manner.

By executing General Shepherd in a rogue act, he ultimately severed Task Force 141 from official military backing and initiated a sequence of destabilizing events.

Further testing will be required to ascertain if Price’s reckless actions were a direct result of being exposed to the Cradle’s illusion or an emotional response to failing to protect one of his men.

Regardless, the Commander's suggestion to target MacTavish for the next phase of the experiment has certainly proven fruitful.

————————————————————————

Test Subject Conditioning Protocol

Subject Identification

Name: Sergeant John “Soap” MacTavish

Classification: Task Force 141 Operative

Current Status: High-priority test subject under secure containment

MacTavish was expected to perform complex missions while fully immersed in an artificial narrative, where he believes he is combating a zombie outbreak as part of “Operation Deadbolt.” This ongoing experiment aims to suppress higher cognitive recall.

————————————————————————

Manipulated Perceptions and Key Figures in the Simulation

Kate Laswell’s Role and Conditioning: Laswell, similarly detained and conditioned, was initially positioned as MacTavish’s operational coordinator.

Her familiar voice served as a mission directive channel, further reinforcing his immersion in the Deadbolt narrative. However, Laswell’s stability deteriorated during preliminary conditioning cycles, necessitating her withdrawal from active mission guidance and her relegation to containment status.

With further extensive conditioning sessions being required, (due to her apparent excessive resistance training under the CIA) in preparation to reinstate a reconditioned Laswell within a disavowed TF141.

Confident they will attempt to rescue one of their own, a chance to witness the prolonged effects of the Cradle and MacTavish’s absence on our targets should present itself.

We hypothesise that a growing lack of external support will surely weaken morale further in preparation for the Commanders final stand against Farah Karim’s forces and her devalued allies.

Viktor Zakhaev as Adversary: Viktor Zakhaev, eliminated by Captain John Price circa 2020, has been reinstated as a familiar antagonist within MacTavish’s induced perception.

Konni scientists strategically inserted Zakhaev’s persona into the subject’s narrative, where he functions as a persistent threat linked to a global threat.

This resurrected adversary fuels MacTavish’s sense of purpose and suppresses any awareness of the Commander’s true objectives. By sustaining a continuous “enemy” figure, we maintain an environment that supports heightened vigilance, while suppressing any remnants of personal connections.

Sergei Ravenov as Mentor: Historical data on Sergei Ravenov, a former Soviet operative and Cradle test subject during the Cold War, has been utilized as a psychological anchor within MacTavish’s mental construct.

Footage of Ravenov’s conditioning sessions has been repurposed to present him as a veteran mentor in the fight against the "Undead," a fabricated threat tied to an earlier experimental initiative known as Aetherium (an internal code once used for the Cradle virus).

Ravenov serves as an authority, the “Dark Aether Expert,” providing MacTavish with insights on how to “combat the outbreak,” further reinforcing the constructed narrative and validating the subject’s current mission reality.

Despite the risks of introducing an unknown persona, the results will establish how important familiar anchors are to the Cradle test subjects.

————————————————————————

Subject Response and Reality Simulation: Operation Deadbolt

MacTavish has demonstrated exceptional receptivity to Cradle-Variant K, which induces controlled delusional experiences, allowing him to perceive a fictitious outbreak setting.

Under the codename “Operation Deadbolt,” MacTavish believes he is conducting a tactical offensive against “infected” entities across Urzikstan.

Farah Karim’s militia, in reality, are recast as hostiles in this outbreak scenario, instilling a sense of urgency and commitment in MacTavish as he pursues mission directives designed to ultimately bring Urzikstan under Konni control.

In this altered reality, MacTavish perceives himself as an essential operative within Operation Deadbolt, believing he is containing and eradicating “dimensional breaches” and combating the spread of Aetherium. Laswell’s pre-recorded directives have been integrated into mission audio logs, lending an air of authenticity to the simulation.

————————————————————————

Findings and Psychological Anchoring

To ensure compliance, MacTavish’s memories have been regressed to 2021—a period prior to the formation of his stronger bonds with Task Force members, but where his potential truly began to establish.

This strategic temporal regression isolates MacTavish from critical relationships that might disrupt his immersion in the fabricated narrative and allow his growth to better align with Konni standards.

Under these conditions, he perceives himself as a newly recruited operative, acting as “Head of Strike Team” under Operation Deadbolt, with diminished awareness of his personal history.

Lieutenant Simon “Ghost” Riley as an Unintended Psychological Anchor: During testing, sporadic cognitive resistance has continued to manifest, specifically when MacTavish encounters stimuli reminiscent of Lieutenant Riley. Notably, Riley’s masked “Ghost” persona.

Although he cannot consciously access these memories, MacTavish displays signs of awareness regression, often reverting to behaviors and beliefs beyond 2021.

Such interactions appear to intermittently destabilize Cradle’s hold over MacTavish. The bond with his former ally has proven resilient, risking periodic disruptions in mission adherence

Countermeasures and Long-Term Stability Adjustments: To mitigate the effects of these “Ghost-associated triggers.”

Konni researchers are employing additional neuro-blocking compounds aimed at obscuring memory pathways tied to Riley. Continuous reconditioning sessions, using Ravenov’s image as an alternate anchor, have thus far yielded moderate success, although sustained behavioral control will likely necessitate further neurological suppressants or targeted memory erasure.

————————————————————————

Conclusion and Tactical Recommendations

Summary of Findings

High Receptivity: MacTavish’s response to Cradle-Variant K exceeds projections, with 95% adherence to mission parameters and minimal cognitive resistance when Ghost-associated stimuli are absent.

Effective Delusional Construct: The subject accepts the Operation Deadbolt scenario as reality, performing his role without critical assessment.

Resistance Countermeasures: The occasional reversion to past memory states requires enhanced countermeasures. Ravenov’s role as mentor and Zakhaev’s reintroduced presence are proving effective in reinforcing the subject’s altered perception.

Recommended Next Steps

1. Strengthen Aetherium Construct: Enhance the Dark Aether narrative by introducing mission-specific “dimensional breaches” to maintain environmental consistency.

2. Memory Reinforcement Sessions: Increase frequency of Ravenov-anchored memory sessions to deepen the mentor-student dynamic and prevent memory destabilization tied to Ghost.

Laswell’s voice should remain a final fallback command anchor in all simulations; if required, brief audio segments can be played during moments of cognitive resistance to redirect the subject’s focus back to mission directives, until a deep fake can be established.

Project Status: ACTIVE – Phase IV trials awaiting authorisation for continuation of field deployment.

Suggested Operation Target: Popov Power Plant.

————————————————————————

End of Report

[ezzy-raccoon]

Ignore the meme, you can't convince me that SOMEONE in the 141 doesn't have this nerf gun.

[ghcstsoap]

Tf141 but they are thrown into attack on titan

[certifiedyapperx]

Captain John Price • broken.

PAIRING: John Price x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: the result of my poll. in short, you tell your captain that the reason you’ve only dated one man is because your ex said you were broken due to your inability to orgasm; and price offers to show you that the only thing broken was your confidence.

WORD COUNT: 5.3k (got carried away.)

TAGS: 18+, PURE FILTHY SMUT MDNI, Slight Degradation, Praise, Multiple Orgasm, PIV, Semi-Public Sex, Dirty Talk, Absurd amount of swearing, Fingering, Price being daddy as fuck.

"What about that ex girlfriend of yours, Gaz?"

As soon as those words left the Scottish lads lips, everyone in the room was giggling like a lot of fucking schoolgirls. You'd be lying if you said that didn't include yourself.

"You want to talk about ex girlfriends now, Soap?" Gaz sat forward in his chair, eyeing his grinning teammate from across the room, the grip on his glass so tight you were worried it'd shatter between his fingers. "What about that woman you boned in Prague? The one that wanted, oh--how do I say it...a little ride on train 141."

"Nuthin' little about that train." Ghost added through a choked chuckle, barely able to get the words out.

Your fucking abdomen was starting to get sore from the amount of laughing you'd done tonight. These men were absolutely ridiculous. You'd never heard more obscene sex stories in your damn life, and they've got a bloody abundance of them--the back and fourth taunting over who fucked who and who did what never seemed to end. It was almost three in the morning and they were still going strong.

"Aye," Soap leaned back in his chair, bringing his glass up to his lips and taking a slow sip, wide eyes gleaming as he reminisced. "Fuckn' wild one, that one. Had her nice and tamed for me by the end of that deployment.”

"Aye, the fucking woman whisperer, this one," Ghost chimed in again, his balaclava half pulled up, exposing his stubble-donned chin and grinning lips as he took a hefty swig of bourbon. Not even fazed. "Almost as smooth as Price."

Everyone in the room chuckled, nodding and muttering words of agreement, but you were stuck in place--still absentmindedly staring at Ghost while turning the words over in your mind, curiosity piqued.

"Price?" His name left your lips before you could even attempt to prevent it.

All eyes in the room shifted toward you, and Gaz cocked an eyebrow. "You've never heard any of his stories?"

Ghost shot him a look. "Clearly not."

"I mean, I've heard some..." you mumbled, awkwardly trying to fix the mess you've just made. Your gaze darted between the three men staring at you, each set of eyes glazed with confusion, clearly trying to figure out why you were so taken aback. "Captain is far more secretive than the rest of you."

You'd been on the team for a solid eight months. Since recruitment, you'd worked alongside Price every single fucking day, yet the man hardly ever spoke about his personal life.

Unlike the others, who seemed to never stop.

"Around you, yeah." Soap mumbled with a smirk, shooting a knowing glance toward Gaz who instantly returned it.

Your brows knit in confusion. "Around me?"

"Aye." Ghost replied for Soap, and you were practically sitting on the edge of your goddamn seat as you knew he wasn't finished. He shifted lower in his chair as his eyes traced up and down your form. "You're new. You're hot. You've never spoken a word about your own personal life. The man's a bloody nutcase, but he hides it well when he needs to--he probably doesn't want to scare you off."

"Scare me off?" You had to fight to keep your jaw off the floor. Trying to mask your confusion, you cleared your throat. "What's that supposed to mean?"

At your reaction, everyone chuckled again, and your face immediately flushed with blood--shading you the same crimson colour found on a ripe fucking tomato. If there was some joke happening here, it'd clearly flown way above your radar.

And yet, before you or anyone else could even consider speaking again, the man of the hour appeared in the doorway, and you nearly fell out of your chair.

"Valid question." He didn't even acknowledge you as he spoke, eyes fixed on Ghost as he took a step into the room.

Gods, he was fucking attractive—every molecule in your being screamed at the sight of him. You'd done everything you could to ignore that fact for the entirety of your time here, ensuring your focus was trained on keeping things professional--but after two glasses of whiskey and the current topic of conversation, the flood gates were wide fucking open.

"Go on, Ghost," his voice was low, deep as the depths of your desire as his ocean eyes slowly danced around the room. "...I'd like to know the answer as well."

Price took a seat across from you, slouching slightly and nodding toward Soap who promptly poured him a glass of burning brown liquid and slid it across the table. Ghost pulled down his balaclava in attempt to hide his cheeky fucking grin, shrugging as though he had no idea what his Captain was on about. 

"Not sure what you mean, Cap." Ghost quipped, and you could practically hear the beaming delight in his words. "We're just talking."

"Hm," Price side-eyed him, humoured. "You always talk about me?"

"Only when you're not around." Soap chimed in, snuffing a groan in his throat as he'd downed the rest of his drink and stood up, shooting an inebriated nod to each of you. "Well, would you look at the time--I'm gonna' hit the sack. Duty calls, y'know."

Your stomach churned with confusion, your eyes glued to the Scottish bloke who decided it was convenient to make his exit the exact moment Price entered the room. You almost wanted to reach over and yank him back into his seat.

"Keep it classy ya filthy bastards."

He shot you a cheeky wink from beyond the door frame before disappearing into the abyss, only for Gaz and Ghost to rise from their seats as well, seemingly following Soap's lead, muttering excuses about how late it was and how exhausted they were.

Your mind raced at lightning speed, trying to make sense of the sudden exodus. You were going to kill those fuckers in the morning.

Price broke the silence before it had the chance to linger for too long. "It's not personal, you know."

Your heart slammed your sternum. You sucked in a breath and trapped it there. You needed to calm the fuck down--though that seemed like a goddamn impossible task at the moment. Prices' voice was the hypnotizing depth of a black hole. It stirred every last atom within you.

Avoiding his eyes, you straightened in your seat, clearing your throat. "I know."

"Do you?" He cocked an eyebrow, two fingertips tracing the rim of his glass. "I'm not so sure."

You looked up now--almost immediately regretting it as your eyes caught his. You forced words out of your mouth before you could acknowledge how the way he was looking at you made you feel.

"It's because I haven’t opened up to you..." you murmured. "Yeah?"

Price nodded, choosing to remain silent, his gaze anchoring you to the floor—every muscle stiff as stone.

You cleared your throat again. "Well. What do you want to know? My family? Where I grew up-"

"No." He cut you off, leaning forward, elbows resting on the table as his stare intensified. "...I already know all that. You're my recruit, I know everything about your past..." his head tilted, his eyes narrowed, and he pushed his glass to the side, clasping his hands together infront of him. "What I don't know, is why a woman as skilled, as smart, and as undeniably attractive as you, has only ever been with one man."

Blood crystallized in your veins, every ounce of your skin vibrating with an emotion you couldn't identify. He was so close—closer than you'd initially gauged—and that closeness ignited dormant desperation, one you'd nearly forgotten existed.

Your throat was thick. Saliva lodged inside it. "I..."

There was a reason. There was a very good reason as to why you've only been with one man, why you promised to never put yourself through that shit again. But you couldn't bring yourself to say it, you couldn't bring yourself to speak the words aloud. That would mean being vulnerable, humiliatingly vulnerable--one of the many things soldiers were trained not to be.

Captain Price hummed, leaning back slightly, and a swarm of unpreventable desire roared alive in your chest. His attention flicked over you. Like he'd felt it.

He remained silent. He was waiting for an answer.

"It's...um..."

Your brain filtered through pages of plausible excuses until it landed on one. Inhaling a breath, you forced the fibbing syllables past your teeth, shrugging in an attempt to make it believable.

"I just...never found anyone I jived with.”

Price paused, his scrutiny skinning you raw. It was like he knew what was waiting on the edge of your tongue, like he could smell the smoke swirling off the fire below your waist. He wasn't buying it.

"You can't lie to me." His words only confirmed your thoughts. "I mean, theoretically you could, though I'd advise against it."

You swallowed, forcing your eyes to your hands. "I'm not lying."

"Perhaps not," he replied, voice cool as ice. "But you're certainly omitting."

Fuck, he was good. And of course he was--there was a reason he was Captain. He was fucking bred for this. You were certain he could detect a lie from light years away.

"It's embarrassing," you replied, ignoring the thrilled leap your heart made that he'd read you so well. "You'll think less of me."

John Price leaned further across the small table, nibbling the distance between you. The intensity of his focus made your insides tangle, something was undoubtedly churning within his mind. A breath caught in your throat as his eyes held yours.

"I don't care," he stole another inch, and you could now comfortably say that he was well within your personal space. "If this is going to work, there has to be trust. Because you should trust me—as your Captain, and as your friend..." in a single abrupt movement, he stood up, towering over you, eyes boring into the top of your head until he shifted toward the door. "...when you're ready to open up to me, I’ll open up to you."

Ice braced your veins. This was the most conversation you'd had with your Captain since you joined the team, and you were about to blow it with your inability to talk to him. To just telling him the fucking truth. He took a step back from the table, began moving toward the door, and you panicked.

You let him get two steps from reaching it before you jumped up, out of your seat. "Wait!"

Time was a relative concept. But as your Captain spun, and as you linked eyes with him, it slowed. Stopped.

You cleared your throat for the millionth time. "It's because...it's because I'm broken."

Price's eyes widened, only momentarily, before they narrowed--out of curiosity or skepticism, you couldn't tell.

"You’re broken." He said, drawing the words out on his tongue while taking a slow, lengthy step toward you. "Elaborate."

You dropped your eyes to the floor again, catching sight of his brown, rugged combat boots as they stepped into your line of sight. Heat flashed your face, and you shifted on your feet.

"My...my ex...um," your voice was barely above a whisper. Something felt gut-wrenchingly humiliating about having this conversation with your fucking Captain. "He, he kinda fucked with my head, I guess. Made me never want to date again."

You heard an exhale, a huff of enticed breath leaving lungs.

"I think," Price eased closer, and you caught whiff of his cologne--the scent engulfing your senses, sending hunger snarling and snapping for relief. "...you're omitting again."

"Why?..." you blurted, trailing your gaze past the vast expanse of his strong chest and up to his gleaming eyes peering down at you. You blinked. "...do you think that?"

Price raised a brow. "Am I wrong?"

"No, it’s just…” you closed your eyes, took a breath. Let it out. No point in lying. Just rip off the fucking bandaid. "He broke up with me because I couldn't orgasm. He said I was broken because of it. It’s dumb, but it hurt.”

Gods, it felt so fucking stupid that you had to smile, had to damn near laugh at yourself. As much as it sounded so foolish, you'd always just considered that maybe something was actually wrong with you. After all, he was your first, and your only—and the fact that you could never orgasm bothered you, too.

However, when you finally reopened your eyes, swallowing whatever ounces of pride you had left, you found a depth to your Captain's ocean irises that was not there before.

There was something floating inside them, now--something primal, something depraved.

"Interesting." His hand raised from his side, grazing over your cheek and coming to a slow on your neck, the tips of his fingers skimming over your racing pulse. "Broken."

Any blood that had been left in your head was now plummeting to your core.

"Broken." You whispered.

Price exhaled, his breath caressing your face, and you bit your lip to stifle the whimper that wanted to thrust itself past your teeth. Never once would you have considered the thought of actually fucking your Captain--but right here, right now, with the way he was touching you, analyzing you, palpably tempting you--it was becoming more difficult to deny the physical need steaming from your pores.

"This,” his voice was so deep it made your blood sweat, his thumb stroking your pulse. "Doesn't feel broken at all."

Adrenaline surged you, ambushing your lungs with rapid breath, flares of lust sparking over your skin. You leaned into his touch, and he let out a sound that was somewhere between a hum and a straight up growl.

Your pulse soared, your hand finding his wrist. “Captain…”

It would be lying to say you thought this was a good decision. But you couldn't find a fuck within you. After years of denying yourself any sort of physical touch due to the shame that consumed you, Price had perceived it without effort and ordered you strip yourself of pretense in his presence.

"Let me show you...." Price wedged a boot between your feet, his hips brushing yours, other hand finding your hip. "...that the only thing broken is your confidence."

You nearly whimpered. "Please."

Without further contemplation, your eyes darted to his lips the same millisecond his darted to yours, and you both moved at once. Price groaned, one hand shooting into your hair, the other supporting the small of your back, tugging you close. His hungry mouth captured yours, teeth nipping your lower lip as he spun you around and pushed you back against the table.

You groaned into his mouth, your ass hitting the cool metal with abrupt force. His lips attacked your jawline, moved down to your neck, and another groan escaped you, this time in bliss.

"Fuck," you cursed under your breath, throwing your hips into his, allowing desperation to guide you. "Captain..."

A low, menacing noise reverberated in his throat and he seized your neck again, bringing his mouth to your ear.

"My name," he took the lobe between his teeth, earning a squeak. "Say it."

"John—" You gasped, clawing at his back. "Shit."

"Mm. Good girl. So obedient..." he purred, tracing his mouth along the curve of your ear. "So responsive."

"Fuck." Every new beat of your heart brought a desperate pulse to your cunt. His fingers found your hair again, curling into a fist. "John...please..."

Your Captain hummed, just as his lips moved back to your pulse and attacked it, sucking rough rabid marks to the surface, his hips grinding against yours. Your eyelids fluttered shut, and he moved lower, releasing your head to work on removing your clothes.

Before your belt even hit the floor, he was tearing off your shirt and tugging off your bra--exposing your breasts to the cool air of the dimly lit room, surging goosebumps to life that he was quick to cover with his hands, taking the fresh tissue between them and kneading it.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, to himself you presumed. "You're fucking perfect."

There was one brief second of thought surrounding the notion that any one of your teammates could walk in and find the two of you here—but that thought was quickly lost as Price leant down and sucked one of your nipples into his mouth. You squealed, squeaking in pleasure, and his grip possessed your hips.

"So sensitive..." he said with a grunt. Your Captain wasn't just hungry—he was starved, more voracious by the second, spurred on by your reactions. "Fucking hell."

He leaned back, hooked his fingers under the waist of your pants and pulled, unconcerned for the ripping seams as he forced them down the curve of your thighs. Your head rung, entire body tingling. Paralyzed, you watched your Captain tear off your boots and rip your pants free, tossing them all to the side.

"Fuck me." He muttered again, returning his sights to your figure. "Look at you."

Price examined you like a meal, gaze traveling from your collarbone to your breasts, down past the curve of your belly to the swell of your hips, coming to a slow between your quivering thighs.

Adrenaline had got you this far. Reality was setting in. "Captain..."

"Shh," calloused hands found your hips, urging you back against the desk, spreading your legs further apart as he inserted himself between them. "I already told you what to call me."

You shuddered, twitching from his touch, and the corner of his lip quirked. Smouldering blue eyes searing into your skin. "John, I—"

His thumbs slid close to your heat, dipping into the crease and teasing close to the edge of your thong. Reality was a plummeting star, crashing down into your mind without regard. Nerves were consuming you, fingers digging into his biceps in attempt to stop them from shaking.

"You...what?" His voice was practically a lullaby. How something so deep could be so soothing was beyond your comprehension. "Go on, pretty thing..."

"I just..." you shifted your hips, trying to balance fear with desire. "I'm just...I don't want to disappoint you..."

Price assessed you, only for a moment, gracing your thigh with a stern yet gentle smack before trailing upward.

"Enough." It was an order. "I want you out of that beautiful mind."

He brushed his finger across your cunt, grazing over your swollen clit, and you choked, hips snapping toward him.

"Don't think..." the power in his words was intoxicating, a command given with the confidence of knowing you'd obey. He teased your clit again and you whinged, gripping him harder. "...just feel."

Before a coherent thought could enter your head, he pulled your panties to the side with two thick fingers, not giving you a second to brace for it before he used those same fingers and sank them into your tight, aching cunt.

"Oh—fuck-"

You groaned, head tossed back, walls tightening around the delicious stretch as he pried you open with slippery ease. The intensity, the fullness from just his fingers stole your breath, dizzied your mind, and you closed your eyes, trying to ignore the growling breath escaping his lungs, trying to ground yourself as much as you could.

"Christ...tight little cunts just soaked..." he was right, you were dripping. You couldn't ever remember being this wet. In truth, you couldn't ever remember being this turned on, this desperate for touch. "Tell me how that feels."

"G-oh, fuck—" any additional words you had planned on using instantly died on your tongue as Price curled inside of you, pushing deep, every coherent thought fleeing your mind with a moan. Your entire body pulsed for him, like he'd shaken every cell awake and enthralled it under his possession. "John—oh, Gods!"

It wasn't like you'd never been fingered. It'd just never felt like this.

Something about the trained motion of his hand, the skilled curl of his wrist, the attunement to your body was consuming you--the need for more only increasing as he found a perfect rhythm, fucking slow, reaching to your belly while his thumb circled your sensitive clit. Your cunt throbbed, squeezed around him, as if to coax him deeper inside of you.

"Needy little thing," an amused huff at the corner of your consciousness. You forced yourself to look at him—he was smirking. "Tell me how it feels."

Desperation was throbbing at your temples, growling and coiling in your belly—unfathomable, incredible desperation stalling your lungs. Unfamiliar, but entirely absentmindedly as Price stroked your walls, stroked your clit, and you were gasping, you were—

"So fucking good—" you were practically screaming, brain a mangled mess of aimless words. "Cap—John, I—I'm-"

His free hand seized your jaw, forcing you to look up into his eyes, his fingers still keeping their pace, your vision blurring to bliss. "You're?"

You gasped. "I’m-"

"You’re close." Fire flooded your flesh, and you mewled like a nervous, helpless animal. His grip tightened. Intensity and power radiating off him in waves. "S’ that what you want, little slut? Hm? You wanna’ fuckin’ cum for your Captain, don’t you?”

“Yes!” No thought required. “Pleasepleaseplease-“

“Mhm. That’s right, that’s right—“ he was just as gone as you were. Air rattled in your lungs like rocks. Your vision blurring as you held onto him like your life depended on it. “Cum on my fingers, darling, let me feel you.”

A scream shredded your throat, submerged in a storm of euphoria, sight whiter than the gates of heaven themselves. Convulsions wracked you, quaked to your bones, and you heaved, hunting for air while he worked you through the receding tide of your release.

“Good fuckin’ girl.” He growled, the arrogance in his tone palpable. “Look how easy that was, hm?”

Your Captian pulled his fingers from cunt and yanked you off the table by the hold on your jaw—you stumbled into him, wetness seeping down your thighs, brain given less than two seconds to process the slew of events before his slick covered fingers were at your lips and pushing past your teeth.

"The way I see it, soldier—there are two possible explanations here." He shoved his fingers deeper, reaching for the back of your throat. "Either you somehow managed to lie to me..." he pressed against you, his desire evident in the way it was jabbing against your stomach. "Or this tight little cunt has never been properly sated."

Your heart was in your feet, your lips sealed around his fingers as you held his eyes, a shade of blue so deep you'd almost thought you were staring into the depths of the ocean. His pupils were blown wide with lust, it was clear what he was getting at—and judging by the way your cunt clenched in response to his words, it was clear that you felt the same.

He pulled his fingers from your mouth, looking for a response. You gave the only words you could think of. "I didn’t lie…I’ve had sex, Captain...I’ve just never done—that.”

"Well I think I've just proven that it wasn’t due to any fault of your own." His words were backing you into a corner, an explanation that was challenging to draw yet completely impossible to now ignore. "I got you there in seconds."

Your face grew hot. “So..what are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” he assessed you, eyes looking past you, through you. “Your ex didn’t know what he was doing.” he leaned in closer, plush lips curling into a mischievous grin. “All you needed was someone who knew how to handle you.”

"Hm." The arrogance was stifling, setting you ablaze. It only made you want him more. "Cocky bastard."

"Cocky," he repeated with a raised brow. "You have no idea, princess.”

"You know what, Captain," you teased with a smirk of your own, unable to tear your sights off him. His eyes. His lips. "I think you just got lucky."

“Luck.” He chuckled—a deep, growling thing. "I don’t do luck, soldier. I do facts.” Price shifted a hand to his crotch, palming his erection through his pants as he pressed against you. “Fact one, I just gave you your first orgasm.” He was possessed, hungry, borderline rabid. “Fact two, I could do it again on my cock. If you’d like.”

And you, you were his eager, willing prey.

"Shit," you muttered, the words shooting straight to your cunt. You didn’t need any further discussion. You wanted him, and nothing could stop the next words from leaving your lips. "Please...please fuck me..."

Your Captain growled. The sweet desperation of your pleas sending him past the point of salvation. He sucked in a breath. Trapped it there—internally clutching whatever ounces of restraint he had left.

"You sure you want this?" His voice was so fucking low you almost missed it. His fingers moved to his belt, and his lips moved to your ear. "I'm not so sure you can take it."

"I'm built for combat, Captain..." you murmured with a grin, spurred on by the evidence of his throbbing desire, fingers trailing toward his belt to help him along. "I'm sure I'll be fine."

Price huffed against your jawline. Amused.

"You’re built for combat, undoubtedly..." you watched as he pulled free his thick, heavy cock. Your jaw slackened, your mouth watered. "But by the time I'm done with you, darling..." he seethed in relief as he guided his hand back and forth along his length, other one directing you back against the table. "You'll be built for me."

A sharp intake of breath found your lungs and then you were lying flat against the table, cool metal biting your backside and ripping goosebumps to the surface of your skin. You shuddered, seething in discomfort, but two strong hands made quick work to soothe them, coasting up your thighs until they found your hips, and then he stepped forward.

"Christ..." you whimpered as he loomed over you, the warm head of his cock rolling over your clit, teasing you with false thrusts, making sure you were well aware of just how long and fucking thick he was. "John..."

"Quiet." He purred, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. "Just let me break you open."

His heavy, smooth tip pressed against your entrance and then pushed in, head just barely spearing you yet somehow still splitting your cunt with a girth that stole your breath and forced a cry from your throat. With a breathless groan he pulled out, and you squeezed your eyes shut, bracing.

He smacked your thigh again. “Look at me.” He hissed, teeth sinking into the plush of his bottom lip as you instantly obeyed. “That’s it. Eyes on me.”

There was a mere second of silence before he sank in again, entirely this time—and though you were fucking sopped and pliant and voracious, he tore you wide with a sting.

"Oh—fuck-"

You fought for air, your body trembling, fingers clawing at anything that might steady you. He’d stuffed you full with ease, lungs heaving upon impact. Both big hands tightened around you, and he slid out, driving into you again with a hidden hiss of air, earning a loud, shameless groan from your lips.

"Fucking hell.” A dark, low voice rumbled from his throat. "Tight little whore. So fucking tight—"

"You're—oh, fuck—" words died on your tongue as he pulled out, pushed in again, sucking in air through his teeth, working you wider with each plunge into your pussy. You clenched around him, and he snuffed a moan, snapping his hips. "You're fucking huge."

"Mhm, yeah," it was a shameless admission. He placed a palm on your pelvis, pressing down, feeling himself fucking into you. He leaned back slightly, drawing long, slow strokes, forcing you to quake around every inch of his length. "That's how fucking deep I'm in you."

And deep he fucking was. Every centimeter banishing the ability to do anything other than exist as a stammering sheath for his cock. It wasn't penetration—it was pervasion, it was domination. Sex had never felt this intense. Sex had never felt this fucking tranquilizing.

"Christ—Cap-John—fuck—"

Price slid out and rocked in, driving to your stomach with a stab of blissful pain. Eyes snapping shut, you gripped his arms, seething when he thrusted again, and again. Each stroke shoved a cry from your chest, tightened your walls, and this only seemed to entice him, his cock splitting you apart. You scratched at his shoulders, fighting to find yourself in the bewildering delirium.

"There we go." His voice was distant in the sea of pleasure. "Look at you. Brainless on my fucking cock."

Your response was a moan, loud and shameless, gripping onto his arms and matching his rhythm, forcing your hips to his, a plea—faster, harder, more, more. Your Captain hissed in satisfaction, and his hand snaked between you, rolling and teasing your clit.

Your vision blurred for the hundredth time. "Oh, fuck—"

Delirium ascended into ecstasy, pleasure amplified by the stretch of his dick. He fucked into you, his skin smacking yours, his breath heaving in feral huffs.

"Fucking perfect pussy," he growled through his teeth, shifting your legs together and directing both ankles over his left shoulder, his thrusts slowly slightly as you gasped and whimpered, clawing at his hips, the new position causing the head of his cock to kiss your cervix with each thrust. "Mm, fuck...this is what you needed, darling. You needed a proper fucking."

"Fuck," you replied, brain numbed by bliss. Words didn't even make sense. "Deep. So fuck—deep—"

"Fuck—take it, take it little slut." His thumb was back on your clit, swirling it in tight, fast circles, his cock fucking deep into you. "I warned you."

"John—" You needed to scream, fingers clawing at anything they could find. If you weren't broken before, you’d certainly be broken when he was done with you. "Fuck—"

Bliss burned to burst, stars swarmed your sight entirely, and you knew it, knew it was happening, knew that you were about to break. The feeling was so intense you didn't know what to do with yourself, you weren't sure if you could even get the words out to warn him.

Your eyes squeezed shut. "Fuck—I'm—I-I'm..."

"Yeah, that's right." He hissed, teeth barred, hips snapping. He already knew. "Cum for me. Cum on my fucking cock."

Lightning euphoria ripped up your spine with a shameless shriek, your climax shattering you. Your cunt milked his dick, your thighs spasming, your back reached for the ceiling, pleasure possessing your nerves.

"There we go—good little fucking slut—squeezing me so good," it seemed an eternity--he was still fucking you through it, breaking you deep, until he edged his climax. "Fucking hell."

He sputtered, pummelling your cunt with sloppy final thrusts, pouring his cum inside you, grip gouging your flesh until he descended, meeting you in the receding tides of your peaks. Both of you twitched with aftershocks, both of you seeking air.

Once he stalled, you sucked in a long inhale and peeled your eyes open, taking in your surroundings for the first time in however many minutes it had been. The room was still as dim and dreary as it was prior to your mind shattering, the only thing now different was your Captain—who remained looming over the table, cock still buried inside you, precipitation lining his forehead and chest still heaving for breath, piercing gaze perceiving you like a sated predator.

With a glance at your lips, he finally moved, pulling back and out of you, tucking himself away. It was then that reality struck you hard—you'd just fucked your Captain. And he'd just shattered the preconceived notions of everything you thought you knew.

You were not broken. You were perfectly fucking fine.

Price cleared his throat as you pulled yourself off of the table and stood. "Y'alright?"

You nodded, grabbing your pants off the floor. "Yes, Sir."

Shame engulfed you, for reasons you couldn't explain. Embarrassment threatened to swallow you whole.

"Hey." Sensing this, Price stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on your arm. "Don't do that."

Your eyes fixed on his. Outlining his perfectly tamed facial hair, his striking blue eyes. "Do what?"

"Avoid me." He simply stated, his voice hardly above a whisper. "All this was, was me proving to you that you're not broken. You're the furthest from. It doesn't have to be any more than that."

"I know…just feel stupid, I guess.” Your face was in flames. You swallowed your pride until it was digested. There was no room for that here, not after what’d just happened. “I, uh, I should have told you sooner. I’m sorry.”

Price regarded you with eyes warm as the summer sun, shaking his head ever-so-slightly. “I wanted you to open up to me. Willingly. I never pry.”

You cracked a smile, slipping on your shoes. “You got your wish, then. Emotionally and physically.”

“Aye.” Your captain chuckled, reaching for the bottle of whiskey and plopping himself into a seat, sliding a glass across the table toward you. “My turn, yeah?”

[remiebear]

What are they singing!!!!????

[band--psycho]

Poly!141 x Reader - Stop The Wedding (Part 4)

Thank you all so much for the love you're giving this story! It honestly means so much to me! 💛

I hope you all enjoy this part 💛

Please be kind, reblogs are always welcome and greatly appreciated! Thank you for all the continued support 💛

Requests are open so if you have any ideas/requests, you're more than welcome to send them over (thank you to everyone who's requested a story so far, I'm working my way through them!)

I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or translated onto this site or other platforms!

Catch up on the previous part here: Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 5 / Part 6

Warnings: Feelings of hurt, betrayal, jealousy, regret, sadness and anger - nearly a physical fight between Kyle and Johnny, arguments

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Kyle stood with his arms folded across his chest, completely and utterly baffled at his partner's actions. 

John had been gone most of the afternoon but came in a few minutes after Simon and Johnny had left to go food shopping. 

In the captain's hands was a familiar takeaway coffee cup that Kyle recognised far too easily. 

And then Johnny and Simon returned with identical takeaway coffee cups.

Now they were all sitting in front of Kyle in the living room and he felt like a teacher scolding children. 

Both John and Johnny wore a solemn look on their faces; like kicked puppies. 

Simon, despite his nonchalant demeanour, was also evidently sad, it was clear in his eyes, at least it was to the people present in the room.

As much as part of Kyle wanted to be sympathetic to them; he was mainly just angry and  hurt. 

Angry because this is exactly what he thought would happen if he went to go and see you himself. You were clearly happy. That was good. He’d meant what he said to John that morning, you deserved it, especially after the pain they put you through. 

But he knew it would twist him up to see you happy about someone else. 

Which is why he made quick work of distracting himself so that he didn’t think about you. 

He thought the others were doing the same; but he was clearly wrong. 

Which is also why he was so hurt; because now everyone except him, had seen you. 

Even if they’d come back deflated, they’d at least been able to look at you one last time….

“What were you guys thinking?” Kyle questioned; the sharpness in his voice not unnoticed by the three men sitting in front of him. 

“I was thinking that I wanted to see her,”Johnny replied back; his calm tone only furthering the other Sargents' irritation. 

“And how exactly did that go?” 

Kyle's question was rhetorical.

He knew based on the looks on his partners faces that the interaction with you had gone poorly even without any of them answering 

“Well she wasn’t exactly happy with us,” Johnny answered with a frown. 

“Nor me, she made my coffee wrong,” John mumbled, taking a brief sip of the drink, trying to force himself to drink the coffee, simply ecause it was  made by you.  

“Gave him a raspberry tea, and me something that tastes like grass,” Johnny continued, nodding over to Simon before turning his attention back to Kyle. 

“Well what did you expect?” Kyle scoffed, running a hand over his face in frustration. 

“We can’t let her get married,” John stated firmly; catching everyone in the room off guard. 

“Ye’ve changed your tune from this mornin’,” Johnny said, unable to stop the small smile from forming on his lips, knowing that the Captain was now on his and Simon’s side.  

“I just thought about it….thought about her,” Johns words trailed off as he looked at Kyle; his eyes were soft; hoping that somehow just that look alone would calm him down. 

It didn’t. 

“And what?”Kyle challenged,“You thought that seeing us again was going to make her cancel her wedding?”

Kyle didn’t snap at any of them often; and certainly not at  John; not only was he their Captain on missions, but they also had a close bond and, most of the time the two of them had a similar thought process on things.

Apart from now. 

The room fell silent at Kyle’s outburst; each man trying to work out what to say to him, to help him understand where they were coming from.

“How do you think she felt?” It was Kyle’s own voice that broke the silence; his tone was softer now but there was an undeniable fury in his eyes. 

“She was clear about how she felt,” Johnny retorted back; earning a small slap on the shoulder from Simon; who was hating that they were all arguing. 

It reminded him of when John had told them that he was going to have to end things with you, it caused so many arguments after you’d left. 

It nearly destroyed them. 

And he could see that same pain in Kyle’s eyes, this time it was at their betrayal…Simon wanted nothing more than to fix the situation within the group, but he didn’t know how to. 

“You ambushed her at work!” Kyle seethed. 

“Kyle, breathe,” John said; standing up to try and touch Kyle’s shoulder to help calm him down; hating how worked up he was getting. 

“With respect, John, don’t tell me what to do right now,” Kyle strained, shuffling back a little, away from John's touch. 

“It’s been two and a half years and you guys just popped up out of the blue to see here, like nothing happened.”

The group remained silent, allowing Kyle to continue venting his questions to them;

“Did any of you apologise to her?”

“Did any of you ask how she’d been?”

“Did any of you congratulate her on her engagement and upcoming wedding?”

“Why would we congratulate her?” Johnny countered back; rising to his feet, anger becoming evident in the Scotsman’s tone at the ludicrous words that he’d just heard. 

“Because we let her go; we made our choices and now we have to live with the consequences of them,” Kyle argued back, taking a step closer to Johnny; his words reminding them all that they all agreed to the separation that broke them up, not you. 

“If we see her, and that’s a big if because she’s probably going to try and avoid us as much as possible,” he continued; realising his own rage, as he stepped back away from Johnny. 

He didn’t want to fight with any of them and certainly not physically. 

He needed to go and calm down; to process what had happened. 

“But if for some reason we do see her;” his voice was much softer now as he walked towards the door joining the living room they were all currently in, to the hallway, “we need to act like we’re not still in love with her,”

“I can’t do that,” Simon stated; finally speaking, his tone wasn’t harsh; but it was firm, as though he was stating a fact, “none of us can, not even you, Kyle.”

Kyle was nearly out of the room when he replied back with, “That’s why I didn’t go to see her.”

His reply wasn’t filled with rage; just a sadness that they all could relate too.

Before any of them could say anything else or try to comfort him, he walked out of the room completely, closing the door behind him so that he could go and calm down, before he murdered his partners for their stupidity. 

Leaving John, Simon and Johnny in the room, Kyle’s words still echoing in their ears.

Tagging:

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[shadowbratt]

BRAVO 0-7

[collateralcosmos]

She wants to order....😓🙃 (still learning to draw, it looks awkward…)

Also should i make the soap one 🤔