#taskforce141

[certifiedyapperx]

• husband!price headcannons

tags: gets sexual toward the end. mdni.

just thinking about husband!price who knew he wanted to wife you up the second he fucking laid eyes on you.

husband!price who, after two dates, was already shopping around for potential wedding rings, pondering the options, wanting to be ready for when the perfect moment presented itself.

husband!price who didn’t waste any fucking time telling you exactly how he felt about you. a man who lives in the present. with his career, it’s the only way he knows.

husband!price who, of course, made sure you were on the same page before he proposed, solemnly pledging that he would do everything in his fucking power to fill the rest of your lives with nothing but voracious, unconditional love.

husband!price who, in between deployment, spends every goddamn second attached to you. touching you, kissing you, hugging on you any possible way he can.

husband!price who, after another prolonged separation, is damn near starving for you. the intensity of his longing practically palpable. even the fucking guys can tell.

husband!price who, the second he catches sight of you, hair messy and pjs still on--growls a low, primal groan of relief before his duffle bags hit the floor, disregarded, and he’s striding hungrily through the house with his boots and gear still on. tunnel visioned.

husband!price who doesn’t even speak a single word to you before he’s on you, like a striking serpent, gripping your hips so bloody hard you’d think he was trying to shatter the bones beneath his touch. another groan escaping him, so fucking thankful to be touching you again.

husband!price who immediately pulls you into him, hands roaming over every expanse of your body they can manage to find, burying his face in the crook of your neck and sucking in a lungful of your scent, his eyes squeezed shut and his heart pounding so hard you could almost feel it.

husband!price who, the second you breathlessly murmur his name, turns absolutely fucking feral.

husband!price who immediately lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as his hands move to your ass and his teeth attack your neck, sucking and biting marks of ecstatic purple pleasure to life on your sensitive skin as he moves toward the nearest surface he can find.

husband!price who uses one hand to clear every single fucking thing off the table in one clean swipe, sending it all clashing to the floor before he places you down on top of it. zero patience and zero fucking restraint left in him.

husband!price who tells you how absolutely fucking beautiful you look as he’s ripping your clothes off, his lips finding yours, the need and passion and hunger evident in the desperation of his mouth against your own.

husband!price who wastes zero goddamn time before swirling the pads of his thick fingers over your clit, praising you for how fucking wet you are for him, telling you just how good he’s going to stretch you out and how long he’s been just fucking dying to do so.

husband!price who fucks you slow and deep to start, each stroke better than the last, savouring every twitch moan mewl gasp and cry that escapes your lips as he makes you cum over and over and over, with practically no end in sight.

husband!price who talks you through each orgasm, praising you for how fucking good you are for him, telling you how much he fucking missed you. every single goddamn day he’s been away. how much he missed your smile, your voice, and most of all, your perfect fucking pussy.

husband!price who fucking growls as he finally cums, after you’d orgasmed so many times you can’t even see straight never mind attempt to form a coherent sentence.

husband!price who plants sweet little kisses all over you, staying inside you until you’d both regained your breath and some form of normality before slowly slipping out.

husband!price who cooes sweet nothings in your ear as he scoops you up into his arms again and walks you toward the bathroom, looking down at you with love blown pupils before drawing a bath for you both to relax in.

husband!price who can’t fucking wait to make you the mother of his children. because there’s not another goddamn soul he’d rather spend the rest of his life with.

[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.

[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.

[shadowbratt]

Bravo 0-7

[undercover-smutlover]

My Favourite Call of Duty Fics & Art...❤

Captain John Price…🏷️

Lieutenant Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley…💀

Sergeant Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish…🧼

Sergeant Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick...🧢

Colonel Alejandro Vargas...🤠

König…👕

141 + Extras + Reader...

Art...🎨

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[cas-backwards-tie]

Trials & Triumphs Masterlist

COD men x Reader

Summary: You've been selected to lead a ragtag group of operatives through a covert long-op. Determined to take down NATO's latest focus: a prominent underground sex-trafficking ring, you're put to the test when things start to get a little too chummy to handle.

Warnings: Alcohol, Peer Pressure, Tension, Cursing, graphic descriptions of Death, Murder, Blood, Weapons, Gunfire, Hostages, graphic descriptions of Injuries, Suspense, Disappointment, Humiliation, Embarrassment, Resentment, Passive-Aggressiveness,

Mentions of: Crime, Government, Injury, Death, Politics, War Crimes

Chapters: An Unexpected Pair | A New Day Dawns | Reroute Necessary | Strength United |

A/N: This is something I've been slowly writing getting into this little pit of fandom, and while this is mostly a self-indulgence, it's the reason things are marked the way they are. I haven't decided who the reader will end up with indefinitely.

[lambiewrites]

I love seeing soft!141 and domestic!141 fics. Y’all are gonna get something outta me soon surrounding that

[krissneedsleep]

Hanahaki part 2

(Soap- Purple, Simon- Red, Gary- Blue, Makarov- green, Price- Pink, Kyle- Orange)

"You kill him, I'll kill you." Soap told the man behind Price's back.

"Oh Ivanka. You are better than these humans." Makarov turns the safety off. "Come with me instead."

Soap hung the phone back. He went away from the window, got to the stairs and got out of the building, Gun pointed at Makarov's back.

"Price, take your gun out." Soap told him now near them both.

Makarov raises his hands and dropped his gun while Price took his out and grabs the fallen weapon. 

"Give up Makarov." Price pointed both guns at him. "Call off everything and surrender."

"Never." He smiles as a gunshot was heard.

All Price felt before hitting the ground was a sharp pain in his back. Johnny shot a bullet into Makarov's shoulder while the man moved away.

Makarov ran. Johnny went to Price not giving two fucks about his dad.

"Price. Price stay with me!" He said holding the wound closed and turned him to his side. "You're going to be fine."

"G-get Nik." Price told him before passing out.

"Medic and Evac! Now!" He ordered in his comms. "Capt'n Price got hit!"

Johnny knew that they had to leave the street and hide from others. He wrapped up the bloody wound as best he could, got Price on his back and started walking to the safehouse they got in the forest away from the town.

Nickolai heard the call and started the engine. He called upon a friend, who's a medic to his location with shit that can deal with a bullet wound. Once the friend got there he flew them both to the town.

Roach, Gaz, Ghost and Laswell weren't able to hear any as they're in a dead zone.

"All packed up." Gaz informed them. "She'll be fine. For now." He looks up at them.

"... She need to go to a hospital." Ghost spoke, cleaning his hands with bottles of water.

"Hand me one." Gaz stretches his blood stained hand. Ghost gave him two and Roach took 2 to clean up the mess.

They heard outside solders searching for them 4. They came closer to the door they blocked. "Sargent Roach, Agent Laswell. This is Agent Bishop."

Non of them replied.

"Ivanka and Price are at the safehouse. Nik went to pick them up. I got Rose Trisha with me." Agent Bishop informed them.

Ghost recognizes Rose's name as Johnny spoke a lot about them. So he spoke. "Which town they're from?"

"Trisha is from Moscow. So is Johnny." Bishop replied.

"... That's true." Ghost muttered. "Got medic on standby?" He asks the Agent.

"We do. Now open this door and let us help you." Miss Bishop tells them.

"Ghost! We can't trust them!" Gaz whispered. " They could be from them."

"Gaz. You said it yourself that Laswell need to go to the hospital." Ghost replied "we need her alive."

Roach stood up, he walks towards the door and takes stuff away from it.

"B-bisho- Bishop?" Kate tries to speak. "Sh-she'-s w-with u-us."Gaz lifts Kate's head.

"No. No don't speak take it easy." Gaz tells her, " the medics here soon." Ghost left to help Roach.

Bishop got in with the medics who rushed to Laswell and help her onto the gurney.

"Half of the base is damaged and some of them are still here." Bishop informs them. "One of you can go with Kate."

"I'll stay." Roach tells them. "I haven't been on a mission for a while."

"Guess I'll go with laws." Gaz walked away with Kate to the transport to the hospital.

Ghost took Roach to the helipad leaving the taking over the base back to Agent Bishop.

[zaffylazystufflmao]

Hello! I'm here xD.

As I had told you, I was late in making the krovf design and it is already finishing!! :D You wonder why the hell it took so long? Well, I condemned myself and drew the back of her body, her entire body - Poor me XD Another day I will make a drawing with shadows, details etc. and I will draw linearts and a drawing of her in a dress xd

(Sorry if it's ugly, it's because it always happens to me that I make the drawings if I were in a hurry because a day without uploading posts is like a week for me :'c)

A 'little' of lore:

(TW!: sensitive topics / mention of blood / homicide)

(some music while u reading)

Episode 1 - Forest Kidnapping.

09/ April / 2001 - Komi. Russia.

(I'm being creative writing this shit XD)

Katerina Pestrova. A 10-year-old girl, leaving her school, fifth year of school. A little innocent girl who she was about to see for the first time in her life... She thought it was a normal day, going home, always with the secret that she was suffering from bullying... When she was almost outside her house, a two-story house, on an almost Livable street. When Katerina arrived at the door of her house, was it strangely... open? She thought it was another day of being given away and beaten by her mother, BUT NO. She saw a trail of blood, from the door to the kitchen. She left her backpack and her things until she slowly reached the kitchen. There was no one. The trail continued to the basement door, Katerina had been forbidden by her parents to enter the basement, but since they were not there, curiosity completely invaded her, she slowly opened the door and turned on the light, only to see her parents' corpse. , with stab wounds throughout the torso. She felt - no, she was horrified, her legs had been paralyzed and she couldn't stop seeing the image, footsteps were heard from afar, she reacted and silently followed the noise of the footsteps and saw a tall man, with slightly hair. long and with a ponytail. She ran to the backyard, Bad idea. In her backyard there was a forest nearby, where there were thousands of cases of young people and children being kidnapped, she ran there for a while, she stopped a little and was breathing quickly, what she didn't know is that... there was one of the kidnappers, pointing a dart launcher at her (I don't know what the hell it's called 😭) Katerina felt something on her neck pricking her. She felt tired and went to 'sleep'....

Well... That's will be all for now :D

Thx for reading? And please ask me smth the asking box is always opened for you guys!!!

Byeeeee

[ariaetherium]

Infernal Gambit

Title: Infernal Gambit (Aria_Etherium on Wattpad)

🔞MDNI🔞

WARNINGS: SMUT/ DEGREDATION/ SOME CNC

Synopsis: Simon and Mina had gotten into an argument before heading back to their quarters and Simon makes a bold decision to bust into her room... "You misunderstand Mina. I'm not apologizing. I despise you. But, you're stuck in my head, and I can't stop thinking about the way your tight little cunt will feel around my cock."

Simon stands outside Mina's door, his heart pounding in his chest as he contemplates the weight of his next decision. His mind races with conflicting thoughts and emotions, the lines between his pride and desire blurring before him. He knows that crossing this threshold could change everything, and he can't help but question the consequences of his actions.

Fuck... there's no turning back if I do this. He thinks to himself, his hand hesitating over the doorknob.

With a deep breath to steady himself, he gathers the resolve he needs and kicks open the door with a swift motion, the sudden forceful sound reverberating through the room like an echo of his bold intentions.

The door swings open, revealing Mina, laying on her bed, caught off guard by the sudden intrusion. Her eyes widen in surprise, swiftly followed by irritation as she recognizes Simon standing there.

"Simon, what the hell?!" Mina exclaims, her voice a mix of annoyance and frustration as she quickly rises from the bed.

Ignoring her protest, Simon walks into the room, decisively closing the door behind him, then proceeds to put his hands in pockets. The adrenaline coursing through his veins makes him feel bolder, more daring than ever. "Are you out of your fucking mind? Get out!" she snaps, trying to assert control over the situation.

But Simon remains undeterred, his eyes locked onto Mina's, a silent challenge between them. Mina's heart skips a beat as she takes in Simon's imposing figure standing just beyond the threshold of her room. Simon's dark brown hair flicked out from under his balaclava, adding to the rugged charm that emanated from him. The tight-fitting black t-shirt accentuated his sculpted physique, revealing the contours of his rippling muscles, a sight she hadn’t witnessed before. She had never seen him in anything so casual, and the unexpected change left her momentarily breathless. Her gaze traveled down, and she noticed the intricate tattoo sleeve on his right arm. It was a mesmerizing display of artistry that seemed to tell a story all on its own. The revelation of this hidden piece of him stirred a newfound curiosity within her, making him even more enigmatic than before. The grey sweatpants he wore left little to the imagination, teasing her senses with a hint of what lies beneath. But it was his intense gaze that held her captive, a hunger in his eyes that seemed to pierce through the barriers she had carefully constructed.

 He takes deliberate steps closer to her, his presence overwhelming, and she can feel her heart racing in response to the intensity of the moment. Simon stands tall, his formidable frame towering over Mina. Mina's frustration reaches its peak, and before she can even react, Simon swiftly grabs her wrist with a firm grip, preventing her from shoving him back. Her attempt to assert control is instantly thwarted, and her hand hovers in the air, unable to make contact with his chest.

As he holds her wrist, his gaze locks onto her fingers, and she can't help but feel self-conscious, knowing that he caught her in the act. Her irritation momentarily gives way to a mix of embarrassment and uncertainty, her cheeks flushing with a hint of color.

With a mix of audacity and curiosity he asks, “Were you touching yourself?” his voice a low, husky whisper, the words sending a rush of heat to her cheeks.

“N- If I was, what business is it of yours?” she hisses angrily, her attempt to hide her embarrassment only fueling his determination. Simon's lips curve into a suggestive smirk, and he lifts his balaclava with his free hand, revealing the lower half of his face. Mina's breath catches, surprised by the unexpected revelation. Her mind races with a whirlwind of emotions, unsure of how to respond to this audacious act.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she growls, attempting to maintain her composure in the face of his daring approach. But Simon remains steadfast, his gaze unwavering as he places her still-glistening fingers in his mouth, a provocative gesture that intensifies the charged atmosphere between them.

As Simon sucks the slick off Mina’s fingers, he maintains eye contact, his gaze smoldering with an intensity that sends shivers down her spine. Mina's heart pounds in her chest, torn between resistance and a thrilling allure she couldn’t deny. Mina's frustration reaches its peak, and she tries to pull her hand away from Simon's grasp, determined to break free from his audacious hold. But Simon's grip remains firm, and he doesn't let go, a silent challenge in his eyes.

"Is this your idea of an apology, Simon? Let go of me!" she demands, her voice laced with anger and defiance. Simon tilts his head as he slowly slides his lips off her fingers, his mouth curling into a devious grin. In the blink of an eye Simon has Mina pinned up against the wall, his large hand tightly wrapped around her throat. Mina gasps, her eyes widening in shock as Simon's fingers tighten around her neck. She struggles to break free, but his grip is too strong. Simon leans in closer, his breath hot on her ear. "You misunderstand, Mina," he says, voice low and dangerous. "I'm not apologizing. I despise you. But, you’re stuck in my head, and I can’t stop thinking about the way your tight little cunt will feel around my cock."

His right-hand slowly slides down, stopping to squeeze her breast needily before his hand lowers more, down her stomach and into her underwear. His fingers stroke her teasingly, and she gasps, her hips jerking forward from the sensation. "Wow. You’re already dripping for me" he whispers, as his fingers slide through her wetness before resting on her clit.

"I should fuck you right here, right now. You want that, don't you?" He whispers, his lips lightly graze her ear, as his fingers make slow, tantalizing circles on her sensitive bundle of nerves. Mina's body trembles and her breath quickens, but Simon's touch leaves her unable to speak. Her body betrays her as Simon's fingers continue to work her clit, she bites down on her lip, forcing herself to stifle her moans. Simon presses his body against hers, pinning her in place as his lips hover over hers. She stares up at him, her eyes hooded, but her mouth remains shut. "Yes," He breathes, answering for her. "You want this. Say it."

"No…" Mina whispers, just as Simon slides two fingers into her slit, causing her to take a sharp breath in. "Fuck, your cunt is so tight." His voice is low and seductive, his fingers working her sweet spot expertly. Mina turns her head away, but his hand clamps around her jaw as he turns her head back to face him.

“I said, say it.” He demands, his voice deep and threatening.

Mina glares up at him and replies venomously, “Go to hell.”

Simon pauses, and Mina relaxes slightly. But then he shocks her with the strength of his response, pulling his fingers from inside her and slaps her between her legs. She gasps in surprise at the suddenness of it, and a small whimper escapes her lips. He strikes Mina again, and her eyes widen in shock. His hand continues to come down hard on her throbbing core as Simon looks at Mina with a sinister grin. Embarrassed by the sound of her wetness hit by each smack, Mina tries to press her thighs together but fails when Simon pulls her underwear down and spreads her legs apart with his knee. "Look at you, your body is begging for me," A smirk crosses his face as his gaze devours the sight of her body, grazing over her hard nipples through her tank top and lower to her aroused center.

Through gritted teeth, Mina whispers "Please don't..."

Am I actually enjoying this right now? I’m more fucked up than I thought… Mina’s mind was spinning at Simon’s ministrations.

Simon chuckles darkly and takes a step back, he looks her up and down. “Take your clothes off, Mina.”

Mina remains still, barely taking in what just happened.

Simon roughly grabs her and tosses her onto the bed. “I said strip,” he growls. She nodded, her eyes widening with a mix of anticipation and fear. “Now,” he said huskily, “Lay back and spread your legs, I want to have a look at you.” She did as he asked and watched as he removed his clothes. Simon's eyes consumed Mina's body as she stretched seductively across the bed, resting on her elbows, revealing everything to him. His hunger is palpable as he gazes at the delicate shape of her thighs, her glistening core, the curve of her waist, and her full breasts, drinking in every detail of her beauty before finally stopping to gaze upon her face.

Mina's heart dances wildly within her chest as her eyes meet Simon’s intense gaze. There's a hint of intoxication in her eyes, as if she's lost in the allure of the moment. The way she looks at him reveals a sense of vulnerability that she rarely exposes to others. As their eyes lock, her lips instinctively part, and she bites down on her lower lip, a gesture of both anticipation and hesitation. She can't help but take in his tattooed physique; her eyes trail along the elaborate sleeve going down his right arm, the two that snake along his sides to show off his muscles, and the entire sleeve on his left leg. Her eyes hungrily wandered over the impressive length in his hand. Simon notices her reaction and responds with a satisfied grunt as his lips curl into a devious smile.

Simon climbs onto the bed and looks down at her, he slowly spreads her legs wider as he stares at her throbbing core. Mina knows he’s waiting for her to say it and her face flushes. Simon’s eyes meet hers, breathing deeply with a smirk on his face. “Say it.” He whispers as he slowly runs his fingers up her leg.

He leans down and blows on her wetness, sending shockwaves through her. Her eyes flutter close as a low moan escapes her lips. Simon wraps his hands around her thighs, his fingers digging into the supple skin as he brings his mouth closer, flicking his tongue on her clit. Mina gasps, her fingers gripping onto the sheets.

“S-Simon… Stop... No,” She lets out with a breathless whimper. Mina gasped as his tongue teased her, his lips cupped around her sensitive bundle of nerves. “Mmm?” Simon smirks as he continues to suck on her clit. The sensation is so overwhelming that she can barely hold onto a thought, let alone speak.

A roll of his tongue and she moans, knowing exactly what is coming next. He slides his fingers into her, curling upwards, seeking her G-spot as he pulled back. They plunged deep inside her, the intoxicating wetness of her arousal coated his fingers, amplifying the slippery, lewd sounds that accompanied their every movement. Her back arches off of the bed as the waves of pleasure build higher and higher.

“I know you’re enjoying this, you fucking bitch. Just admit it.” He says in a low voice as he sits up, looking down at her with hooded eyes. His tongue licking her juices off his lips sending her over the edge.

“I fucking hate you, Simon.” She growls as his fingertips rub and press the sensitive flesh inside, driving her crazy.  Her eyes fluttering closed as she purses her lips, trying her hardest to fight the urge to tell him she wants this just as bad.

Simon chuckles darkly. “I know,” He says as he slides his fingers out of her. He reaches out and grips her jaw pulling her forward. “On your fucking knees.”

His other hand slowly runs up and down his pulsating length as he guides Mina to the desired position he wants her in. She tries to pull back, her eyes narrowing up at him defiantly, but his grip on her tightens and she finally submits, moving to sit on her knees before him.

"That's a good little slut. Now open." He commands as he taps the tip of his cock on her lips.

"Go fuck yourself. Asshole." Mina snarls, her jaw clenching as rage mixes with her burning desire.

Simon glares at her and he smacks her cheek, hard enough that it makes her yelp, her eyes widening in shock.

"Open. Your. Goddamn. Mouth." He says each word slowly and deliberately. The rage continues to build, but Mina knows better than to fight it, so she does as he commands, her mouth opening, allowing him to slide his cock inside.

Simon grins, a glimmer of wickedness shining in his eyes as he grips her head pushing deeper than she expects. "Get used to it, whore. We're stuck with each other for a while. You're going to be swallowing a lot of my cum."

I should bite his fucking dick off. He’s lucky I want to fuck him.

The room began to fill with the sounds of Mina’s wet mouth engulfing him. “Fuck, it feels so good. You really know what you’re doing..." His words spilled out, punctuated by gasps and moans that escaped his lips. His hands wrapped around her hair as he guided her up and down.

“I’m going to fuck your mouth now,” he rasped, his voice laced with an undeniable hunger. A deep groan escaped his lips as he threw his head back in sheer ecstasy, surrendering himself to the overwhelming pleasure that enveloped him as he thrusted into her mouth.

With a commanding voice, he encouraged Mina to take him deeper, “All the way down, that’s it. That’s a good whore.” he hissed, his words infused with desire. Mina gagged around him, her nails dug into his thighs as he pushed deeper into her throat. The tears welled up in her eyes and streamed down her flushed cheeks, a mixture of pleasure, submission, and the intensity of the moment. Simon’s voice escaped in a guttural groan, his eyes fixated on Mina. The raw desire in his gaze was unmistakable, a mix of dominance and adoration.

Fuck… I don’t want to cum yet.

With a rough yank of her hair, Simon pulls Mina’s head back, her lips parted with a gasp as she eagerly drew in a deep breath. In a burst of unrestrained passion, Simon lifted her up, pinning her against the wall. Her body, trapped between his powerful frame and the solid surface. His forceful hands now held her with a firm, possessive grasp.

Simon's eyes flicker with a mixture of longing and restraint as they linger on Mina's lips. The pull towards her is undeniable, and he can feel his heart pounding in his chest, torn between the desire to lean in and the fear of crossing a line. He knows that a single kiss could change everything, and the weight of that decision weighs heavily on his mind.

"Simon..." Mina's voice is barely a breath, a soft whisper that sends a shiver down his spine. Her fingers trail along the nape of his neck, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake.

Simon looks at Mina, he sees the curiosity and desire in her eyes, her hand reaching out towards his balaclava. In that moment, he knows what she's thinking - she wants to see his face, to peel away the barrier that separates them. His heart skips a beat, and for an instant, he's tempted to give in, to reveal himself fully to her. But just as her fingers brush against the fabric of his mask, he reacts instinctively, his fingers tightening around her hand, his voice gentle but firm saying, "No. The mask stays."

Then, he entered her with a torturous slowness, savoring every inch of her as he claimed her body. Mina’s long lashes swept against her flushed cheeks as her eyelids involuntarily fluttered shut, surrendering herself to the consuming sensations that rippled through her body. Uncontrollable moans spilled from her parted lips, harmonized with the rhythm of Simon’s powerful thrusts, the sounds of their bodies colliding echoed in the air around them.

Simon’s gaze intensified as he drew her closer, their bodies intimately entwined, as he unleashed a seductive question. His voice, laced with that mixture of dominantion and anticipation, murmured, "Yeah? You ready to admit it now?"

Mina’s brows furrowed with a look of longing and vulnerability as her breath hitched in her throat, her voice filled with aching desire and an unmistakable plea. "Fuck… Yes, Simon. I want it.”

"Bloody hell..." he mutters under his breath, the struggle to hold back now too great to bear. All pretenses and boundaries melt away as he leans down. With a primal need, his lips find hers in a passionate and fiery kiss. As Simon leans down to kiss her, Mina's arms instinctively wrap around his neck, drawing him closer to her. His heart pounds in his chest, every fiber of his being consumed by the intensity of the moment. He kisses her like he's unraveling a secret, savoring every inch of her lips, every gasp of breath that escapes her. Their tongues entwine in a dance of fervent longing, a dance that speaks volumes without words. He can taste the sweetness of her, the softness of her lips, and he's lost in a euphoria that he never knew existed.

As Simon stepped backwards, they both fell onto the bed as their bodies tangled together. Mina’s desire surged through her, fueling her dominance as she took control. Simon’s eyes widened as Mina slid down on him, riding him with an intensity that left him breathless. Her movements grew more deliberate and sensual as she slowly ground her wet core against him. Simon’s eyes rolled back as his hand connected with a firm smack on her ass before both hands gripped it with an unyielding force.

“Fucking hell, Mina," he groaned, his voice laced with a mix of pleasure and surrender. Mina’s voice pierced through the haze of pleasure as she leaned down, her lips brushing against his, "Is this what you pictured when we were at the club?" Her lips curled into a mischievous smile as she whispered.

"Yes.” He grunted as he bit his lip, his jaw clenching, his grip on her ass tightening as his fingers dug into the skin, guiding her movements. With a surge of power, Simon lifted her effortlessly and slammed her down onto the bed.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard, Mina. You'll scream my name so loud that everyone in this fucking base is going to know it." he rasped, his voice thick with urgency and hunger.

A growl tore from his throat as he thrusted, burying his cock deep inside her with an overwhelming force. Mina’s voice erupted in a scream of pleasure, her inhibitions shattered as she surrendered to the overwhelming sensations. "Oh fuck, Simon!"

The bed shook beneath them as Simon’s powerful thrusts rocked Mina’s body, the force of his movements electrifying her senses. She gasped, succumbing to his power, as he drove himself deeper and deeper, claiming her with an insatiable hunger.

A smirk tugged at his lips as her eyes met his again. "God, look at you. Taking my cock so deep inside that fucking cunt.” He groaned, a raspy moan leaving his lips as his jaw remained clenched, his cock twitching inside of her as he fought against his release. Simon gently glided his hand up Mina's arm, his touch both tender and possessive. Their fingers intertwined naturally, as if they were meant to fit together. As he looked down at her, his eyes held a depth of emotion that words could not fully capture, revealing the intensity of his desire and the vulnerability he had finally allowed himself to show.

 Simon’s voice came out in a seductive whisper. "Cum for me, Mina," his voice husky with desire. The room reverberated with the wet squelching noises growing in intensity with each forceful thrust. Mina’s body quivered, her inner heat pooling in her belly, aching for Simon’s pulsating member. His precise aim repeatedly striking her sweet spot. "Oh my god! Fuck…Simon, I’m cumming!" Her back arched as she quivered beneath him, her walls squeezing around his thick cock. Waves of ecstasy crashed over her, rippling through her body like a tempestuous storm.

Simon’s mouth hung open as he watched in awe as Mina came undone, her body shaking with pleasure, he shook his head in disbelief at the display beneath him. He bit his lip as his breaths became ragged, her warmth squeezing his cock along with her release drove him over the edge. His voice cracked. “Fuck… Fuck I’m cumming," he gasped, his voice husky with desire. Finally, with a loud growl, Simon releases inside her, his body shaking with pleasure.

He slowly pulls out and lays next to her, both of them a panting mess. Simon looks at Mina in disbelief, his mind reeling from the realization that the boundaries that defined their relationship have now been crossed. Simon slowly gets up, shaking his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself after the intensity of their shared moment and gets dressed. "This changes nothing," he says firmly, his voice tinged with a mix of determination and uncertainty.

Mina sits up, a smirk playing on her lips. "Fine by me. Thanks for the orgasm, “mate”. Don't let the door hit you on the way out," she retorts, her voice laced with defiance. Simon rolls his eyes at her teasing remark. As he turns to leave the room, he can't help but feel a rush of conflicting emotions.

As Simon steps out of the room he pauses for a moment, What the hell was that, Simon? You were supposed to fuck her, not get all bloody intimate…  As he thought about the passion that burst between them, he can't help but mutter, "Christ, I can't fucking stand that woman." The words slip out before he can stop them, revealing the raw emotions swirling within him. He's torn between the allure of their connection and the fear of losing control. Mina's ability to get under his skin, to challenge him in ways no one else can, both excites and infuriates him.

[mantisnixon55]

WRONG! AU

Q. WHAT IS THE WRONG AU?

The basic prompt for this au was:

What if the COD/MW2 characters were the worst possible versions (or more shitposty versions) of themselves?

It is a reimagining of Modern Warfare 2 and possibly 3 with hints of the 2009 version (which I take heavy inspiration from at times) with this prompt. Despite being a reimagining, it does not follow every event to a T, as the characters will make different decisions according to how their personalities have been changed. I try to keep characters somewhat recognizable, although that cannot be true about 80% of the time. Emphasis on try.

It is currently the main focus of my Twitter and Tumblr, as well as two Fics on my Ao3.

Q. WHAT'S THE PLOT LIKE?

We start off with the 141, more specifically, John "Soap" MacTavish, who is headed to Las Almas with his Lieutenant "The Ghost" to deal with a silly situation involving some dude named Hassan and a cartel leader with no face attached to his name, assisted by Los Vaqueros, Colonel Alejandro Vargas and his second in command, SGM Rodolfo Parra.

Occasional jumps over to Captain John Price and his sergeant Kyle "Gaz" Garrick in Urzikstan with commander Farah Karim and her right hand Alex Keller.

And from there, we progress.

Q. WHY TWO FICS?

The second fic, Unconventional Warfare: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/MANTISfanfics/works/52653877

The official fic, updated much slower than the other one. Everything here is serious (as serious as it can get) and directly affects the main storyline.

The first fic: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/MANTISfanfics/works/52437199

— is for things that are not directly connected to the main storyline. Non-canon to the au, oneshots, etc. And porn! All smut in the main fic is fade to black, but in this one it's balls to the wall! Hooray!

Q. WHERE CAN I LEARN MORE ABOUT THE CHARACTERS?

My Twitter, mostly! My Twitter is in my bio. A masterlist of all of the character sheets+relationship charts is linked here: https://twitter.com/MANTISNIXON55/status/1741629915789758471?t=Zv7YGni0E77XGgPUWt6z9A&s=19

"Short" rants will be posted on Tumblr. I am always available to answer questions on my Curious Cat: https://curiouscat.live/MANTISNIXON55?s=09 or my Tumblr, although I am more likely to see CC questions first. If you would like to follow this au, I suggest my Twitter for direct updates. Larger and more official things will be posted on Tumblr.

PSA.

This AU was not made to be good, professional, or groundbreaking. It was made to entertain and as a creative outlet. It is not amazing, and it might not even be funny, but most things are subjective that way. It is shittily written, it is unserious, and the characters are all flanderized to the highest extent. It is cringe, there is too much swearing, and it is INCREDIBLY unrealistic. If that is any of the criticism I am to receive, know all of this is purposeful. I am receptive to other forms of criticism.

[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?”

[psychotic4ghost]

:Siren & The 141:

A/n: This chapter really is just filler, I won't lie. I also wanted to start expanding on Mykie and Ghost's relationship a little more :) WC: 2182 Masterlist prev pt next pt

🚨 Warnings 🚨 Drinking, alcohol, drunk people, fluff, banter

Chapter 5 - Banter Shamnter

The morning had rolled around. Mykie carefully slid out of bed, her shoulder was stiff from sleeping on her back. She was ordered to see the nurse every morning for meds and ice. Mykie stumbled to her small bathroom, brushed her teeth, put on deodorant (to the only armpit she could lift her arm to reach), and headed toward the door.  

She was stopped by a small folded piece of paper that had been slid under her door. 

Mykie scanned the note and giggled to herself. She shoved the note in her sweatpants pocket and headed towards the nurse’s quarters. 

“Alright, as promised, I’m here,” Mykie announced as she entered the nurse’s office. 

“Good, you’re late. Is your shoulder giving you trouble?” She asked politely. 

“Only, a little. Those pain meds you gave me worked wonders. I am extremely stiff though.” 

“Have a seat, I’ll take a look.” The nurse directed her as she grabbed some gauze and other items needed for her rebandaging. 

“I already know this is gonna hurt.” Mykie nervously chuckled as she sat down on the examination table. 

The nurse made quick work of changing the gauze that was wrapped tightly around Mykie’s shoulder. 

Mykie pushed open the heavy doors to the mess hall, the clatter echoing in the empty room. Excused from drills for a few weeks while she healed, she found herself alone in the spacious hall. Taking a seat at one of the tables, she pulled out her phone and mindlessly scrolled through social media posts from acquaintances in the outside world. Puppies, weddings, and growing families filled her feed, evoking a mixture of longing and contemplation.

As Mykie sighed, her thoughts were interrupted by the abrupt entrance of Soap into the mess hall. He plopped down across from her with a tired sigh. "That was one hell of a morning. How did your morning go?" he asked, seeking some camaraderie.

"Nurse visit," Mykie replied, absentmindedly fidgeting with her phone. "She redid my wraps. It hurt, but not as bad as getting shot, so I guess there's that."

Ghost quietly took a seat next to Mykie, a bit closer than usual, while Gaz occupied the seat on her other side, engrossed in his own thoughts. 

Sensing an opportunity for some banter, Soap leaned forward, resting his head on his hands. "So, wanna tell us anything?" he prodded, his curiosity evident.

"No?" Mykie raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence.

Soap persisted, undeterred. "You sure? Sounded like you were up late last night."

Caught off guard, Mykie stumbled for a response. "Uh, well, I have insomnia, so maybe you heard me working out to tire myself?" she offered, regretting her choice of explanation.

"Working out, huh?" Soap's grin grew wider, sensing a hidden story.

"Yes, Soap. I was working out," Mykie replied, rolling her eyes, hoping to divert suspicion.

Soap narrowed his eyes, undeterred by her deflection. "Well, if you're gonna work out in the middle of the night, don't hit the wall with your bed. And was Ghost helping? Because of your arm?" he quipped, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I was alone, dealing with this searing pain, all by myself," Mykie retorted, trying to maintain her composure.

Soap let out a defeated sigh, shrugging his shoulders. "I know what I saw, him leaving your room but if you want to deny it, so be it. I know y'all were fucking."

Ghost nearly spat out his morning tea, Mykie choked on her bacon, and Gaz burst into snorts of laughter.

"That's a bold assumption, Soap," Ghost managed to say after composing himself.

"Did you guys forget that Mykie and I share a wall? The walls may be brick, but you can still hear shiet," Soap said matter-of-factly, relishing the reactions.

"I was alone, Soap," Mykie retorted, her tone playfully hissing.

Soap shrugged his shoulders, a smug smirk playing on his lips. "If you say so."

“Even if I...had Ghost over, what would it matter, hm?" Mykie's voice took on a defensive edge, her frustration mounting.

"It wouldn't matter. But see how you're breaking? I mentioned it, and now you're getting all defensive, Mykie. Why get defensive if there's no reason?" Soap's grin grew wider, his plan to rile her up seemingly successful.

Ghost took notice of Mykie's mood shift; she was turning pink, and her leg was bouncing non-stop. He gently placed his hand on her thigh, trying to offer comfort and calm her down.

"Ugh, whatever. Yeah. He was in my room," Mykie responded, rolling her eyes and leaning back slightly.

"I knew it! What does this mean? Y'all dating?!" Soap interjected eagerly.

Before Mykie could respond, Ghost cut in, his tone firm yet understanding. "Soap, drop it. Let her be. She'll tell you when she's ready."

But Mykie couldn't resist a playful retort. "No, no. It's fine. It just means I was the victorious one, the one who could break the cold hard shell of Simon 'Ghost' Riley. Something Soap couldn't do," she smirked, clearly teasing.

Soap, ever the joker, couldn't resist a witty response. "That's not fair! You have tits, I am clearly at a disadvantage," he gasped, playing along.

Ghost couldn't help but roll his eyes at their banter. "Bloody hell," he muttered under his breath.

Mykie raised an eyebrow, ready to engage in the playful exchange. "You think tits were the only thing that let me win?" she retorted, challenging Soap's assumption.

Soap's eyes widened in mock surprise. "Well, yeah, look at 'em!" he responded, playfully emphasizing his point.

“Soap. Drop it.” Ghost warned. 

“Fine, fine. What are y’all then?” Soap continued despite saying he would drop it.

Mykie and Ghost both rolled their eyes this time. “Not much. We aren’t sure yet. Don’t make a big deal out of it.” Mykie pointed a threatening finger at Soap. “Eat your damn breakfast.” 

Soap continued to poke fun at Ghost and Mykie for the rest of the day. It didn’t take long for Price to catch on. He gave them a small lecture about how this could impact the team. But Mykie, being snarky and stubborn, told him it wouldn’t be an issue. Of course, as soon as she walked away, Ghost and Price burst into laughter. 

The night was coming to a close, dinner was just starting and everyone was sitting around again. 

“Did you hear that overwatch is putting the mission on hold?” Gaz asked the group as Mykie and Ghost joined them. 

“For about two weeks.” Ghost chimed in. 

“Two weeks? Why, L.T.?” Soap asked, quite confused. 

Ghost shifted closer to the team, “After our last mission, with no intel being at the site, we have no leads. Overwatch is doing all they can. But until we are given a new mission, we’re on standby. If you choose to leave, stay close. You are still on call.” Ghost informed. 

A shit eating grin formed on Soap’s face, “So I can go to the nearest pub, is what you’re saying?” 

Ghost sighed followed by another eye roll. “Yes.”

Soap and Mykie both locked eyes and gave each other a rather hard fist bump. “We should go tonight! I could really use a shot.” Mykie suggested to the whole group. Gaz, Soap, Alejandro and Rudy all agreed. (Price was dragged along as they were heading out the door.)

“Ghost? You’ll come right?” Mykie asked as she noticed his lack of response. 

“Are you going to let me say no?” 

“Nope!” Mykie beamed at her Lieutenant. As soon as the clock hit 7:00pm, the team had clambered into a few of the jeeps on base and took off to the nearest pub. Ghost insisted on driving. Mykie took the passenger seat and Gaz, Soap and Alejandro climbed in the back. Price and Rudy chose to ride separately. 

“I’ve never been to this one.” Soap glanced up at the neon lights above the bar door. 

“It’s a new one I wanted y’all to try.” Alejandro piped in. 

The boys and Mykie filed into the medium sized pub. Alejandro ordered the table a few rounds of cheap shots. Soap and Mykie didn’t hesitate to start their fun. 

The sound of fancy shoes tapped the floor as a middle aged woman with blonde hair pulled into a neat bun approached their table. 

“Laswell.” Price tipped his hat. 

“Price. Good to see the team.” The lady, Mykie now presumed was named Laswell, joined the table. 

“This is Mykie. I sent you her files.” Price informed, nodding to Mykie who had just finished her second shot, now a little embarrassed. This person definitely seemed important and now her first impression of Mykie was her knocking back shots.

“No need to worry about first impressions, Mykie.” Laswell chuckled as she watched Mykie quickly choke back her shot and sit up properly. “My name is Kate Laswell, station chief. And a close friend of John Price.” 

Mykie stuck a hand out across the table for Laswell to shake. She took her hand without hesitation. “Price informed of this little get together and extended and invite, that’s all.”

“You can stop with the formal tone, Laswell.” Price chuckled. 

The rest of the table gave out some hearty chuckles. They all continued their drinking. Price, Rudy, Ghost, and Laswell all ordered some form of drink on the rocks, something to sip. 

“Mykie, what’s your call sign?” Laswell asked the now very intoxicated Mykie. 

“Siren.” Mykie giggled out. 

“It’s ‘cause she’s smokin’ hot and lures in the lads. Makes ‘em easier to take out, ye ken?” Soap slurred out, his accent was almost too thick for anyone to understand. The whole table burst out in more laughter. “I mean look at ‘er. Damn!” He continued his slurred complements until Ghost gave him a good smack on the back of the head. “That’s enough Johnny.” He grumbled. 

“It’s more like 'cause she’s loud.” Gaz snorted. Mykie leaned over and punched Gaz rather lazily in the shoulder. 

“How many shots have you guys had?” Ghost asked as he watched Mykie almost fall out of her seat.

“Dunno.” Mykie and Soap said in unison. 

“I think we should wrap it up. I’ll get the tab. Drag Soap and Mykie out of here please, Ghost.” Price ordered as he stood from his seat. Him and Laswell headed to the counter to pay for the drinks. 

Ghost threw a handful of bills on the tablet and swung Mykie’s arm over one shoulder and Soap’s over his other and lugged them out of the pub. 

“You smell good.” Mykie mumbled as Ghost threw her into the passenger seat after tossing Soap in the back. 

“And you smell like a pub.” Ghost let out a soft, almost unnoticeable chuckle.

“My arm hurts.” Mykie whined as Ghost buckled himself in and started the engine. 

“Shouldn’t have punched Gaz. You hit him with your bad arm.” Ghost sighed as he took off down the almost empty streets of Las Almas. The ride wasn’t too long. Soap had already passed out in the back seat and Mykie wasn’t too far behind him in that sleepy department. 

Ghost pulled up to the parking spots of their base. He left Mykie in the locked car as he lugged Soap up the stairs and down the hall to his room. He tossed him on the bed, removed his boots and closed his door. 

“Where did you go?” Mykie asked lazily as Ghost approached the car. 

“Had to take Soap to his room. How ‘bout we do the same for you, yeah?” Ghost leaned over Mykie and undid her seat belt. Mykie slung her arms and upper half over his shoulders as he lifted her out of the car. 

“Carry me?” Mykie pouted. 

Ghost didn’t hesitate to throw her over his shoulder, her ass in the air and head down behind his back. 

“This isn't what I had in mind.” Mykie said as she let go of all her weight. She ragdolled over his shoulder as he lugged her into the base. Ghost kicked open her door and plopped her down on her bed. He was getting ready to leave when she gripped his glove. She had only managed to grab the pinky of his glove. “Stay?” she mumbled out, her eyes fell to the floor as she kept hold of his glove.

Ghost looked down at her grip on his glove. He stared for a moment, contemplating his options. He let her small hand pull him towards her. He sat on the bed next to her as she fell into him. She let all her weight fall into him. “Thank you.” She hummed. 

Ghost felt her weight press into him. Her small figure curled up against him. Before she could get too comfortable, he lifted himself up and dragged himself up on the bed so his back was against the wall. He pulled her up with him and laid her next to him. Her body looked so small next to his. They didn’t get to cuddle the last time. Not like this. Mykie, half asleep, pushed her head into his shoulder, one of her legs was slung over his legs as she hugged tightly onto his side. Ghost rubbed up and down her small arm as she drifted off to sleep.  

[strixton]

my friend sent me images from their textbook, so i saw an opportunity. please cod fandom accept these as a gracious offering

[shadowbratt]

BRAVO 0-7

[selkiecourts]

live laugh love ghost (thank you @/shapeshiftaer for being my reference :]] ily )