Valeria: Who Told You Misandry Is Bad? Let Me Guess, Men?

141 Beach Episode // Cod X Reader

You know how in every good show there's a beach episode? Yeah this is theirs.

The 5 of you were sat in a truck with the aircon blasting. Price was dramatically fanning himself with his boonie hat. With one hand placed on the steering wheel. You had just finished a week-long mission and it left you all somewhere on the east coast with the sun beating down with no mercy. You were so uncomfortable, dressed head to toe in full gear practically sweltering in it.

“Not used to this bloody heat.”

  Soap sighed placing a hand to his forehead to relieve his brow of sweat.

“I’ve got the aircon.”

 Gaz smirked, of course he was fine he was sat in the front seat with cold air blasting directly onto him. You were squished between Ghost and Soap, plus he always wore a sunhat and sunglasses even in the rain.

“How ghost isn’t a puddle yet I have no clue.”

You stated, glancing over at ghost who was dressed in all black with his mask still pinned down onto his face yet he didn’t show a single sign of discomfort.

“Can you even breathe? Isn’t it like being trapped under a blanket?”

“I can breathe fine.”

He grunted not sounding amused by your questions.

“Look at tha’ ain’t it a pretty view.”

Soap said tapping on the truck window, everyone’s eyes glanced to meet where he was pointing. You were greeted with the sight of a gorgeous white sandy beach with the clearest sea water you had ever seen with families playing in the sand and surfers utilizing the waves.

“The things I would give to dive in those waves.”

 You said groaning, resting your head back in the seat knowing you had a hot and uncomfortable 6+ flight ahead of you to get back to base in England not to mention the drive to even get to the airport.

“Can’t we stop for a bit? The missions all done and dusted, surely, they don’t need us back that hastily.”

Gaz asked turning to face the captain with a cheesy grin plastered across his face.

“I could use a pint. I’m sweating like a fucking pig. We only have a few hours but I think we could all use a break.”

“Make that two.”

 Ghost’s gruff voice chimed in his mood perking up at the promise of a cold beer.

“I think everyone here wants a bloody pint.”

A few moments later the 5 of you were all stood on the beach boardwalk, you removed your boots and placed them by the railing before stepping onto the soft, warm sand.

“I have never ever stepped on sand so soft oh my-“

You wondered how long it had been before you stood barefoot on a beach. Probably not since you were a child on a day trip with your family.

“Shit the sands a bit hot ain’t it?”

Soap said as she stepped onto the sand beside you, shifting from foot to foot as he complained about the temperature once again.

“I’ll go grab us some drinks, find a spot I’ll come find you all.”

 Price said before stepping up the stairs and walking towards the crowded beach bar on the boardwalk.

Ghost, who was still dressed fully in his gear stomped behind you scouting the beach for a place to sit like it was the toughest decision he ever had to make.

“Here.”

He said pointing to a peaceful square of the beach, not too far from the shore.

You all placed your backpacks down and set a towel down for yourself. Ghost was wrestling with the beach umbrella to get it stood up.

“Whose going for a swim?”

Soap said with a huge smile on his face as he stripped off his t shirt leaving him in his cargo shorts.

“You go first mate, tell us how cold it is eh?”

Gaz joked, pushing soap slightly closer the seafront.

“Don’t be a pussy.”

“I’ll go!”

 You said, removing your jacket and vest leaving you in a tank top and some old cargo shorts dumping by your backpack them away from the shore so the waves didn’t steal them.

You jogged down to the water front stood beside Soap and Gaz.

“Whose going to make the first move then?”

You all stood in a line, hands on hips inspecting the water as it broke in front of you. As you spoke Soap dived headfirst into a wave like a goofy dolphin. He stuck his head up like an seal, running his hands through his mohawk and wiping the salty water off his face.

“Is it cold?”

 You shouted through the crashing waves.

“Nah, its refreshing.”

He shouted back before running through the water back onto the shore to stand beside the two of you.

“I don’t know if I’m that hot anymore you know-“

You said backing off after feeling the  ‘refreshing’ water splash over your feet and ankles sending little shockwaves through you.

With that statement Soap placed two hands on your waist and lifted you up into the air before placing you over his shoulder like a fireman would carrying someone out a burning building.

“DON’T YOU DARE SOAP, I MEAN IT.”

You screamed thumping his back in fear as he stepped into the freezing ocean once again. Gaz stood on the shore filming the entire situation laughing at your misfortune. Ghost sat watching from afar under a big shady umbrella pint in hand with Price sat beside him reading something, smoking one of his cigars as per usual.

“Ready?”

Soap teased as he began to hoist you up even further before throwing you into the sea with a huge splash. The cold water shocked you at first but after a few seconds, soap was right. It was kind of refreshing. You popped your head up out the water with a frown.

“I hate you asshole.”

“You weren’t going to get in I had no choice-“

You pushed a big wave of water his way aiming for his face secretly hoping the salt would burn his eyes.

“GAZ GET IN.”

Gaz stepped into the water with haste joining you and soap.

“We going play mermaids or what?”

You asked with a chuckle as the 3 of you treaded water in a circle.

“I would prefer to drown Soap.”

Gaz said before dunking soaps head back under the water.

About an hour later you sat on the beach wrapped in your towel, drying off in the sun.

“Been a while since I’ve been able to relax on a beach.”

Price spoke, he was leant back on a sun lounger his hat placed over his face shielding his eyes from the setting sun.

“Thought you were asleep old man.”

Ghost chuckled.

“Can we take a photo?”

You asked bringing out your super old digital camera you dragged around on every single mission.

The 5 of you gathered in closer. Gaz throwing up a peace sign. Soaps arm slung around ghost and a beer held loosely in the other. Captain Price sat up placing his hands on your shoulders. Your smiles were all wide (you would like to believe ghost’s was too) as the light of the setting sun glowed on your faces.

That day was a good day.

I really miss him. I feel like everything has crashed down and I’m struggling to breathe.

I just want my baby back…

Proving a point to my boyfriend.

PLEASE REBLOG if you (male or female) believe it is perfectly okay and natural for a guy of any age to cry

I really wonder what it is like to have a normal sense of humor. I have warped humor.😂😂

would you put a discarded fruit sticker on my forehead in whimsical jest yes or no

Gaz: I mean, small animals are way more vicious. It’s because their anger has less space to be bottled up in.

Price: That’s ridiculous. Give me one example of this.

Soap: Terriers.

König: wasps.

Ghost: R/n.

R/n: *glares* (Flips them off.)

Gaz: Soap and Y/N are missing, can you find them?

Simon: What, do you think I have them microchipped or something?

Price: Well, do you?

Simon:

Simon: Yeah, hang on.

*doing paperwork late at night*

Price: This is homophobic

Laswell: … we are three minutes into June and you’re already on your bullshit

Price, pointing at her: Homophobic

Laswell: I HAVE A WIFE JOHN

Price: DOES SHE KNOW SHE MARRIED A HOMOPHOBE?

Ghost, sitting in the corner: I want to go to bed

Ugh, I have a bitch ass migraine and it’s killing me. I wanna go to sleep but it’s keeping me awake from the pain. I honestly want to puke too.

Pookie here feels like shit.🥺🥺🥺

ONLY YOURS (Sub!Price x GN!Reader)

price masterlist — price picture credit

summary; he’s just too damn loud. — 1.7k words

[WARNINGS; sub!price, dom/sub dynamics, power imbalance, secret relationships, handjob, light degradation, biting, out of place fluff.]

John watches as Soap laughs and slaps Gaz on his back over some story, his other hand holding a cup of some sort of alcohol; some brand that John doesn’t personally drink. He’s just thankful that it isn’t tequila as he doesn’t want a face full of his spit and the tequila. In John’s hand is a nice cup of whiskey, something that burns but goes down fairly easy. His eyes look into his cup, watching the dark liquid swirl around, vaguely hearing Ghost, who is next to him, speak up about Soap’s story, something about correcting a detail. John doesn’t care too much to pay attention at the moment, not when the alcohol is beginning to kick in just the right way. It’s rare that he gets these moments with his men; being able to drink together as John is nearly always busying himself with something. 

“—That reminds me, Captain,” Soap hums, a grin stretched across his face. John picks his eyes up from his glass of whiskey, locking eyes with the tipsy Scotsman. “You’ve seemed much more relaxed, aye?”

John’s lip twitches as he hums before taking a sip of his whiskey, relishing the burn. He nods, his other hand coming up to rub the pleasantly sensitive skin underneath his jacket. “My stress has been much better these days, yes.” John replies with a chuckle. Oh, only if they knew.

Only if they knew why.

God, John feels like such a teenager sneaking around like this; he can’t get enough of the rush you give him, the secrecy you two have to maintain—when you sit on his desk and you force him to stand between your legs with his heavy cock in your hand. John shudders as you grab the front of his shirt and pull him closer—you said no touching, so John scrambles to plant his palms down on the desk on the outside of your thighs to keep himself up. You laugh as he struggles to be obedient, as he lets you position him however you want. Your wrist absentmindedly keeps bumping against the edge of the desk due to how close John’s body is, but you don’t mind. You don’t mind at all, not when John is letting out shuddery grunts and groans as he struggles to stay quiet.

“God,” He groans lowly, his voice gritty and deep in his chest. He’s so close, your breath brushes over his face and all he wants to do is lean forward to kiss you. You ghost your lips over his as your hand begins to drag up and down his leaking cock, pulling a loud gasp out of him. Delicious pleasure shoots up his spine and melts deep in his chest and gut as your hand continues to squeeze precum from him. John’s fingers dig into the wood of his desk as his head reels from how good your hand feels. Your lips twitch into a smile as you watch John’s eyelids flutter and how he nearly leans into you for a kiss but always at the last second, he catches himself; because he wants to be good. John swears as your hand around his cock speeds up, spreading his precum along the length, making your hand a slicker surface to slide against. 

You tsk as one particular moan bounces off the wall, and you don’t miss the way his hips jolt forward. “Oh, Captain..” You murmur, your eyes never leaving his pleasure drunk face. John’s eyelids open and he looks back at you, causing his dick to twitch in your palm, his hazy eyes settling on yours—like he’s waiting for you to talk. “And here I thought that the talk we had was important; how we need to be careful and quiet.” You taunt, leaning your cheek against his, your lips brushing against his ear. John’s skin burns from touching yours and he wants more, more, more, more—”But here you are, moaning like a fuckin’ whore.” 

John shudders, doing his damn best staying still, letting you play with his cock and heavy balls all you want. “Bloody hell, sweetheart—” John breathes out and you can tell he isn’t complaining about the degradation. In fact, you swear your knuckles are stickier. You hold his cock with one hand and your other hand comes down to the head, your finger swirling right under the mushroom tip causing John to shout out and his hips thrust into your hand, his brain melting and pouring out of his ears—your hand comes up and slaps against his mouth, causing his eyelids to pop open. You’re talking, but John has no idea what you’re saying, not when you’re mercilessly teasing his tip, fuck, he wants to cum so bad.

Your hand that is covering his mouth pats his cheek, leaving a slight sting behind; just enough to ground him back into reality. You were high off of the power your Captain gave to you. Your superior, the man who others respected due to his presence, his work, his efforts; is handing everything over to you. “I’m talking to you, Captain.” You add a mocking tone at the end. “M’listenin’.” John says with a heavy tone, his breath hitching in his throat. You click your tongue, causing him to tense. He suppresses the noises of complaints that threaten to leave his mouth. “Now, there’s one thing I don’t like. Why don’t you tell me what that is, Captain?”

John swallows the spit that has accumulated in his mouth. “Liars.” He whispers, his face burning with embarrassment. God, you being in control is thrilling, sneaking around is thrilling but he can’t ignore the embarrassment that bubbles in his gut every time. “I didn’t hear you, John. You want to be quiet now, but when it matters, you’re whimpering so loudly that I bet someone heard; you know Soap has a blabbermouth,” You grin as you witness John feel conflicted, but you don’t ignore the way his cock throbs in your hand. 

John lets out an unsteady breath, and nods—he doesn’t know what he’s agreeing to anymore, which tugs another laugh from your chest. John didn’t think he was the type to do this; he was sure only reckless privates and other lower ranks would risk something like this. Handjobs, quickies, everything of the sort on base. If you told him three years ago what he was doing right at this moment, his mouth would’ve frowned and shook his head in disbelief, and he wouldn’t blame his past self for doing so. Risking his whole career for a little stress belief—except, you’re more than stress relief to him and he’s more than a toy for you to play with. John loves when you distract him from the paperwork he has to do by wrapping a hand around his throat, leaning in—so uncharacteristic of him, he thinks—but he loves it more when you press a loving kiss against his temple.

John likes it when your hand touches the small of his back to check in with him, and he likes doing it in return. He likes speaking with only glances, and no words; sending you glances only the two of you understand. You can read him like no other. John likes it when you don’t question his authority as a Captain, you respect his rank and his experience, despite your control in the bedroom—or should you say office? John liked it when he realized you began to get up earlier, at the time he got up just to spend more time with him—an hour or two just for the two of you, sipping your morning drinks in silence together. He’s embarrassed at how easily you got him under your thumb because his libido is suddenly like it was when he was much younger; he isn’t too old, but he’s certainly aged a bit.

He’s brought back to reality by your hand squeezing the back of his neck then traveling to the back of his head, grasping threads of his short hair and gently tugging. “You with me, John?” You ask, your voice firmer than before. John makes a noise as he settles back into reality, his eyelids blinking rapidly as the unbearably hot feeling of arousal swirls in his gut. “M’with you, love.” John croaks, your eyes locking with his. Your eyebrow cocks ever so slightly—he knows what you want. “Green. Just a bit out of it.” John adds, noticing the way your eyebrow relaxes back into place. You hum and let go of his hair, letting his head lean forward a bit more than its previous strenuous position. 

“Out of it?” You question, your hand tilting his head to the side by his chin. John’s eyes stay on you, searching for any hint of how you feel, but your eyes have drifted down to his neck area. Your hand trails down from his chin to the buttons on his shirt, which you slowly begin to undo with one hand, your other still loosely wrapped around his cock. “Mm, you mean you were distracted, John.” You mock pout, you blink, and your eyes meet his again. John swallows, your eyes swirling with something he craves. 

“Dont’cha worry, pet. I’ll get you back on track.” John’s eyes widen at the name—pet—but he doesn’t have time to think about it too much when you pull one of the flaps of his shirt to the side and you sink your teeth into his shoulder harshly. “Fuck—” John curses, his hips jolting as the pain swirls against his nerves, your teeth hungrily biting down on his muscle and flesh. You pull away and John winces for a second, his breath stuttering when he sees something red on your teeth. Blood. You grin and lick your teeth, somehow stealing all of John’s air from his lungs. 

His knees buckle—and crack—violently when your hand suddenly begins to stroke his painfully hard cock, causing him to gasp. “Shit, love—” John moans out of appreciation, and you roll your eyes and grab his face, covering his mouth. “Noisy brat.” You reprimand as you stroke his cock. “My noisy brat.” John can’t believe himself when he nods, agreeing with you because he is yours. All of him is yours—like you are his.