Cod X Reader - Blog Posts

TALK DIRTY TO ME

how konig, ghost, and price talk dirty in bed.

thirsts : open

—

konig is surprisingly vocal when he’s rutting into you, though it’s probably not in the way you think. most of his words come out in hushed whispers laced with obscenities. he seems to lose any sense of shame he usually has because he’s just too drunk on the feeling of your cunt wrapped around him.

“feels s’fucking good—“ he mindlessly babbles out.

his large palms are stretched out on both sides of you, fingers digging into the mattress, while he keeps you caged underneath him.

“such a greedy pussy,” he groans out with another roll of his hips. “keeps suckin’ me back in…”

you can feel his hot breath fanning your face while his darkened eyes are stuck — transfixed — on the creamy white ring that covers his cock. the sloppy sounds that fill the room seem to only grow louder with each thrust, as your arousal practically drips down his balls.

“just begging for me to fill ya up,” he hissed out, as he presses down on your stomach which makes you whimper in response. the noise somehow flips a switch in him and has könig fucking into you even harder.

“s’that what ya want? need me to fill ya up, fuck a baby into this pretty cunt?”

price just exudes dominance in all aspects even with his dirty talk, his words are more praising than anything else though. he’s always coaching you through things and telling you how good of a job you’re doing, he knows it gets you off and he also just can’t help but spoil you.

“mhmm, just like that, baby.” he mumbles out as he lazily guides your movements, helping you bounce yourself up and down on his cock.

there’s a smirk on his face that he can’t even be bothered to hide when he hears you whining at the praise. he thinks you’re adorable when you’re like this, so desperate for him yet so adamant on not asking for his help. you could be such a brat sometimes, he’d have to deal with that later.

“doing so well,” he says with a groan as he thrusts his hips up in time with your movements. “but you don’t think you’re gonna make me cum just from this, do you?”

it doesn’t take much effort for him to flip you over and have you at his mercy. your legs are now lifted over his shoulders while his dick is fucking you even deeper, the tip prodding against your sweet spot just right it has your toes curling.

“feels good, doesn’t it?” his movements are slow and controlled, he knows you’re close — he can feel it — but he’s not going to reward you unless you use yours words.

“come on, princess. all you have to do is beg and i’ll have you screaming for me…”

everything ghost says is absolutely filthy, he is all about the little details. he doesn’t actually notice what he’s saying in the heat of the moment, all he knows is that his words have your cheeks flushing to a pretty shade of red, and he loves it.

“you’re such a fuckin’ slut for me even your pussy knows it.” he practically growls. “look at this sloppy mess you’re making.”

he ruts the tip of his cock against your slit, coating your folds with his pre-cum. “jus’ gonna slip in with how wet you are..”

your arm is slung over your face as a way for you to hide your embarrassment, you know he’s right, there’s no way you could deny it. something about the way he talks to you when he’s pent up like this has your pussy throbbing.

“fuck, need to be balls deep inside this cunt.” he breathes, as he eases his way into you, the fat head of his cock slowly splitting you open as he makes you take in more and more of him.

the veins on his length rub your slick walls deliciously and it’s not surprising that you’re already twitching and creaming all over him as soon as he bottoms out.

“that’s it, there’s my slutty girl.” his raspy laugh fills the silence. “stop using that pretty head, all you need to do is cum for me.”

I love me a man who EATS like I think I definitely have a food kink cause like the image of going down on Soap while he monches on a burger AGHHSGKDJHSKSBKN Like I need his cock rn (also side note love the term chub or instead calling a cock fat calling it chubby like 😮‍💨😮‍💨)

Another Random Cod Thot!!!!

soap x reader.

Cw: swearing... honestly that's it this part is pretty chill. (There's a nsfw bit at the end but you don't have to read it! I've sectioned it off!)

When Soap comes back home from being deployed for god knows how long, it's like he's walked through the gates of heaven. There's literally nothing he loves more than coming home, taking off that god forsaken uniform, and lounging about in some shorts (And nothing else. Because he's a lazy fuck and it's his house. he can choose not to wear underwear or a shirt whenever he fuckin wants!).

And the food...God the foooooooooood. It's probably his favourite part of coming home. No more MREs. No more mess hall food. No more stale bread with a slathering of some indescribable spread. Finally, he can eat like a king.

And he'll eat just about everything and anything you serve him. Takeout? Abso-fucking-lutely. Quick 10 minute packet food? He'll be having seconds and thirds if you let him. A proper home-cooked meal? Just marry him now, for god sakes.

I have this image in my head of him on leave, lazing on the bed in just his underwear with his large hairy chest on display, heaving in deep content sighs as he absolutely devours a pack of donuts you brought home and savouring every second of it. It's his personal bliss.

NSFW BIT BELLOW CUT

Cw: Freeuse (Reader using Soap). BJs. Big hairy horny man.

There's also the added benefit of a limitless supply of BlowJobs on your part. And he's a free use kinda guy when he's on leave. You never have to ask to take his fat cock out of his boxers, sweetheart. He's already half chubbed for you.

It's not like you can resist him anyway. He walks around the house in exclusively his undewear and nothing else. You can see the print of his dick against the fabric as he goes to town on a burger you made for him.bAnd he moans like a whooooooooore when he eats. So no one can blame you when you cozy yourself up into his side and slide his boxers down just enough to get a taste of that bright leaky tip of his.

So he gets excellent food, a warm bed, and a partner who is more than happy to wrap their lips around his dick and go to town whenever they like? He could die right there and be the happiest man alive. This is a better reward than any medal they could give him for his service.

(Tap for better quality)

WELCOME TO THE SPACE-EXPLORATION! 141 AU

Meet your Captain, John Price

He will be leading this research expedition as well as navigating research vessel 141

Bro I fucking knew he would win the poll

Idk what to call this AU yet, so we'll see how this goes

Drawing Gaz next, YIPPIE

Not me accidentally posting this outside of the queue lol

Wake up everyone New ghouljams post just dropped

Bad news I just watched the VVitch and I have fae!Price and Witch thoughts.

You stand at the edge of the forest, the shadows within lengthening with the path of the sun. You hold your cloak tight around your shoulders, keep your eyes fixed on a single point. A crossing of branches. You've seen it once before, the way the leaves around them seem to twist and draw other branches in. Fae signs. Proof of magic in the area. Magic you want.

The shadows grow longer, the chill of evening settling in now, you haven't moved in hours. If your patience does not prove fruitful tonight you'll come again tomorrow, and tomorrow, until you get what you want. You have always relied on your own determination to make the impossible happen. Still, as you feel the sun's rays begin to sink below the horizon you feel your confidence wavering. Perhaps no one will come.

It's with the soft purple light of dusk that you hear it: the silent whisper of the forest. A low voice that rumbles in your chest, strokes over your cheeks. "What do you want?" It asks.

"What can you offer?" I don't want to be alone anymore, you think, tamping down your desires before the voice can hear them.

"The morning, the afternoon, the evening," the voice seems to smile, skirting around your perception, "a new perspective on the world, a pretty dress, a quiet hearth."

"Magic," you whisper to yourself, bidden by the voice to offer your own plea.

"For a price," it agrees, "You'd never know anything else." Not loss or heartache, never loneliness or isolation. You tip your head when fingers skate along your neck, eyes closing as they trace your jaw, grip your chin. "You are a pretty thing, aren't you?"

There's a man in front of you when you open your eyes. Tall, handsome, he has a beard to hide his mouth and eyes like the winter's sky. You blink at him, it would be polite to thank him for the compliment if he weren't fae. That knowledge doesn't stop the way your cheeks heat up at his continued staring. His rapt attention feels heavier than the stones you village would use to crush you if they knew what you were doing. Thank God they don't.

"You still believe in god?" The man asks, as if he could hear your thoughts.

"I don't know what I believe," honesty, you have the strangest feeling that you wouldn't be able to lie to this man.

"Is that why you came to me?"

"You have something I want," you tell him, "magic, freedom."

He tips his head, regarding you with a smirk, it's strange the chill the heat in his eyes sends down your spine. "Magic won't give you what you're looking for," he tells you in return, "but alright."

You can't help the smile that splits your face. Riddles or not, price or no, you're getting what you want. Something of your own, making the stupid choice for once in your life.

"I look forward to seeing what you do with it," the fae man tells you. You barely have the time to ask how you're supposed to do anything when you don't have it yet, before he kisses you. Pulls you in with an arm around your waist and kisses you as your fingers leave your cloak and twist into his shirt. It's a rush, like being dunked into cold water, your body filling with an unknown that seeps into every crack and corner. Magic that tingles and shivers in the tips of your fingers and the shake of your breath. He lets you go and you twitch to pull him in again, only to be met with a low chuckle.

"Next time little witch," he tells you, ghosting his lips over yours, "good luck."

He's gone when you open your eyes.

YOU FEED OUR BRAIN WORMS SO WELL JFCBJNVRSKNVA

Yes- hi- hello, tis I, the moth that will ram into your window :3

Anyway

My brainrot for Fae!Price is so hhhhhgggnnnn and I've backed myself into a corner by crafting the idea of Witch Darling trying to fluster Price in return for all the times he's done so to her. Like- they're just doing their daily thing and Price pulls out a cigar but Witch just snaps her fingers and lights it for him and he's like "Why'd you do that?" And Witch immediately follows up nonchalantly "Pretty boys shouldn't have to light their own cigars."

And Price is fucking floored

Like- he's had experience with people flirting with him, especially debtors trying to get a better deal when talking to him, but when it's coming from Witch?

GOD DAYUM

Okay back to lurking for me, take care of yourself and drink water if you haven't already. I will find a way I to your house and bring you water if you don't <3

Hi, hi, hello! I am taking care of myself! Had a good birthday and didn't write anything which was very weird but very nice to have a break. I return with Witch and Price because I desperately miss writing for them.

I've had this idea of Witch showing up at the 141's usual bar and causing trouble and this is the perfect ask for it. Here's Witch being well... far too pretty for her own good, and Price being a terribly weak man for her. Witch's dress is based on one from 1964's "What a Way To Go" which has some of the most spectacular textile artistry I've ever seen.

Price's knuckles drag up your back as you lean against the bar to order a drink. You're not used to this many eyes on you, but it's worth it for the single pair of cool blues that study you like they've never seen you before. His fingers hook in the double line of pearls that trail down your spine to your skirt, thumb counting over every one before his fingers reach the sleek silk of your dress.

"Can I buy you a drink?" You ask him, Price's eyes follow his hand where it hovers over your bare skin. More than you think he's ever seen of you. You like throwing him off, it's rather fun seeing him at a loss for words.

"Fuck sweetheart, buy the whole bar for all I care," he presses his hand against you, spreads his fingers wide against the small of your back. Each one a threatening display of his adoration. "What're you doing here?" He can't ignore the stares anymore than you can. A witch in a fae bar, your back exposed, vulnerabilities on display, you can feel the hunger that rolls through the room. You're not as easy a target as they'd all like to think.

"Good looking guys like you shouldn't buy their own drinks, so here I am."

"Here you are," Price breathes, you like the heat in his eyes. It's hard to match him, you aren't exactly flirty. Not by nature at least, and you don't have his easy self assurance. You're confident in yourself, but not quite in the same interpersonal sense. Still, if anything was going to set you up for success it would be Price. His eyes, his touch, there's something to having his attention so fully focused on you. A room full of people and yet you're the only two in it that can touch each other.

You signal the bartender for two of whatever Price drinks, watching him pull a cigar from his pocket in your periphery. You snap your fingers to conjure a flame and hold your hand out to him. The little red flame flickering on your pointer finger dances happily as he takes your hand and holds it to his cigar. You try not to be too flustered when he moves his cigar to extinguish your flame on his tongue. The slick muscle curling around your finger, making a heat coil in your stomach. He settles your hand on his shoulder, forces you to turn on your stool to watch him press his lips to the inside of your arm.

"You almost make me wanna wear a suit," he sounds, hm, it's an admission, but not one that lines up with his actual words. Not a lie, never a lie, a rephrasing of a truth. He almost makes you want to ask.

"You'd look good in a suit," is all you can think to say.

"You look good in white," he responds, the hand on your back tugs you off your seat. You do your best to avoid stepping on his toes as he pulls you to stand, turns your back against the bar, and boxes you in. A physical barrier between you and the open room, Price's strong arms rest on either side of you, his fingers tapping the bar as you stare up at him. You're supposed to be making him flustered. You really have to up your game.

You slide your hand from his shoulder to his chest, feeling the firm muscle there, the slight give of his skin and the tension your touch brings to him. There's a tightness in his jaw when you look up at him, a flinty edge to his eyes as he watches the bartender.

"What're you thinking about pretty boy?" You ask. He blinks, surprised, and looks at you. His eyes trace over you, gaze sliding like magma over your form. You try to keep your breaths even, try not to be affected by him. When he looks at you like that you can't help wanting more of him.

Your fingers slide down his chest to hook in his belt loops, and Price draws a shuddering breath. He cannot talk to you like this. Whatever has gotten into you is bad for his health. Whatever has gotten onto you as well. He takes a long drag of his cigar, tries to keep his eyes off the cling of silk against your chest. Made much more difficult when his smoke takes it upon itself to fall over you, slide down the soft curves of your body so he can feel the shape of you.

What's he thinking about? You, always you. In every position, you.

The bartender sets two whiskey glasses between his hands, behind you. Their eyes rest too long on your exposed shoulders. Price gives them a warning growl, enjoys the way it rips from his throat, the way your fingers tug ever so slightly in response. You tip your head back to see what he's growling at and- God you are just- a tease, that's what you are. The way your neck stretches for him, the way your lips part, your back arches. He tips your head forward again, keeps your pretty little self contained and off the bar.

"Are both of these for me?" He rasps, God he hopes so, could use all the liquor he can get.

"One's mine." Are you keeping your voice low like that because you want to drive him mad? It's working.

"You even like whiskey?" He's never seen you drink, but he would bet you're preferential to something sweeter.

"I can drink it, if that's what you're asking," you twist to grab your glass, and quickly tip its contents into his. Price takes another long drag of his cigar watching you raise the glass to your lips and take a sip. You lower it with a sigh, your lipstick staining the edge. You hold the glass out to him, or up for him, as he exhales.

Oh you are sweet the way you breathe in his smoke.

Price takes the glass from your fingers and keeps his eyes on yours as he takes a drink. He savors the way you watch him, how focused you are even with your eyes lidded. He hands the glass back, and watches you swallow a pull of the amber liquor as he smokes. When you lower the cup from your lips he tips your head back with a gentle finger under your chin, leaning down to hover his mouth over yours and breathe. He feels you pull his smoke into your lungs, feels where it escapes your lips to curl over your cheeks, your jaw, soft magic to make your head spin. His favorite kind.

"You're awfully forward tonight little Witch," he hums, feeling you tilt your head, just barely brush his lips with your own.

"Trying to give you a taste of your own medicine," your honesty always hits him between the ribs, Price smiles, "is it working?"

"Perfectly," he feels your tongue flick against his lip, catching a last hint of whiskey, and his hand wraps around your neck. God what you do to him. "The things I would do for you," he breathes, you're testing his resolve. Lucky he hasn't spun you around and pressed you against this bar. It wouldn't be the first time someone had gotten what they deserved in here.

"Don't you mean to me?" You smile, he can feel the curve of your smile, so tantalizingly close.

"No," he takes a half step closer, feels you press yourself top to toe against him, "I mean on my knees, with my tongue, with my fingers, with my cock, with whatever you asked for. For. You."

You shudder against him so nicely. A valiant effort, he thinks, but how could you ever think you could beat him at his own game?

HHHNNGGGHH

141 + the others reacting to sweetheart in tight pants or short-shorts that leave nothing to the imagination?

Ugh G O D YES

(The Krueger imagine)

141!Sweetheart is getting really comfortable around the boys, enough to wear shorts that look like underwear on her. She has embraced her past and new scars and now wants to wear whatever she wants around the people she loves (platonically?idk LMAO) although she whines about it being too tight around her hips, she wears the black spandex shorts that ride up way too much on her thighs and ass. Fat jiggling while she walks, hypnotizing the men she works with. Price bites into his cigar, Ghost spills his tea as Gaz and Soap choke on their breakfast. König had to shuffle down in his chair to hide his groin under the table, while Alex and Roach just freeze and stare. Horangi had to go... clean up, as he brushed past a lightheaded Rudy and a grinning Alejandro.

She smiles at them and says, "Good morning!' Like she always does, innocent to their hard gazes. But she knows.

She knows hunger when she sees it, and she likes to keep them starving for more.

@hunterbunter3000

Eyyyyyy

I'll update this post once I finish the other tattoos :]

@hunterbunter3000

GUESS WHATTTTTT

Here's my heart and soul while I'm at it. This feral ball of sunshine has me in a chokehold and honestly, I couldn't be happier.

Worth it

Damn that shit was close, but the people have spoken another Nikto thought it is

Writing ideas

Writing ideas

Ooh, I saw you’re taking requests, and firstly wanted to say: welcome! 💖🙌🏻 I know starting writing can be daunting, but I personally think it’s all about just letting your creativity out and having fun with it 💕

I was wondering if I could request (sort of headcanons or small blurbs if you’re up for it?) of like, first kisses w the guys? Price, Gaz, Ghost, Soap, König… I also love Rudy, too. But I’ll let you pick! Please and thank you 🥰

Ugh I love this! I’ll definitely post it soon!

And thank you so much for the words of encouragement, it is a kind of daunting task, but I’m letting my creativity flow. Thank you!!!

idk if you’re into writing smutty stories, but if so, may I request a Soap x Reader fic where they use the safe word and ends up being fluffy in the end :3?

So sorry for the inactivity I’ve been away, I absolutely love your idea so much, I’ve gotta learn how to write smut better but once I do your idea will be the first I write!

His Personal Solace

The bed and empty, well his side is. His warmth long gone, he left in the wee hours of the morning you guess. The sun hasn’t risen yet, black still paints the sky. Trudging out of bed, on a mission to find him, you see a dark figure and small speck glowing embers on the balcony. This isn’t the first time he’s needed a solace, not from you–god no never from you, but from himself. Thoughts, voices in his head, torment and taunt him, they tear sleep from his hands and laugh from within. He takes long drawls from a cigarette in the quiet darkness outside, hoping that the silence outside will somehow, someway bring a similar muted peace to his mind. 

He knows you're there behind him, watching him. A small streak of anxiety runs through him, guilt of waking you, fear of your reaction to him like this. It's a cycle, never ending and ruthless: he forces himself to sleep, dreams of his past plague his mind, he jolts awake, leaves to the balcony for hours trying to turn his brain off, you look for him, and do what you always have done. 

You open the door, the wind and chill of the night sweeps through your figure and seeps into your bones. You stand next him, not saying a word, he needs the quiet, needs peace, and you give him exactly that. Patiently you wait for him, a sign of life, something that tells both you and him that he’s here with you. He turns to look at you bloodshot blue eyes stare into your skull, you reach a hand up to touch him, stopping only centimeters away looking to him to give you permission to touch him. Soft fingers reach the side of his neck, ghosting over his pulse and cradling his face with the utmost care. Leaning your forehead against his, he closes his eyes and you begin to speak.

“Come home to me, Andre, come in out of the cold. We are safe here, we are home, come sit with me inside yea?” Your hand drops to his, taking it in your palm as you lead him inside and onto the couch. Tea waits for you both, sitting on the coffee table, but it does not get touched. Instead of the soothing burn of tea, he chooses the warmth and comfort of you. Leaning against you like a marble pillar, soft, stable and oh- so beautiful. Your heartbeat thrums against his ear, his limbs tangle within yours, you don't know where you end and where he starts, but neither of you care, content to stay entwined for eternity. Your eyes close, slipping into the depths of sleep again. Nikto decides to follow suit, he’s safe, he’s home. You are his home. You are his solace. He is ever thankful to the gods for blessing him with you. His mind races with you as he falls into a dreamless sleep.

HIIII!!!! can u write a Gaz fic? Idk what about, something fluffy or maybe some kind of medic!usr? Please and thank you!!! I'm looking forward to it :333

Yes!!! Sorry it came a little late but here you go 🖤

Kiss it Better?

Tw: none (maybe like one swear word and mention of a papercut???)

“Are you actually kidding me right now?” You say with slight irritation. You had been busy all day reorganizing the medicine closet and trying to find dressings all the while soldiers kept coming to you to get patched up. Needless to say, you were pretty stretched thin and in no mood to joke around, so obviously it was the perfect time for Kyle, your boyfriend (and favorite patient), to annoy you. 

“Please love, just a little kiss?” He says.

“You got a papercut.”

“Ok, and? Kiss it better for me?”  

“No.”

“But-”

“No. Gaz I'm not in the mood, I have things to do and I need to focus on work” You scowl and turn away from him to restock on supplies. Unaware of whatever scheme he’s already planning in his head.

“Alright love, I will see you later.” You can hear the grin in his voice, laced with mischief and a little laughter. You turn to see him walk away and question his tone only for him to run up to you, steal a quick kiss, and run away. 

“I- Oh you little” A smile graces your lips as you run after him through the halls.

“Garrick! Get back here!” Irritation starts to melt away and giddiness replaces it. You know you won’t catch him but there's hope in your mind to catch up and get him back. As you round the corner he jumps out and grabs you laughing and you punch his arm. 

“You dick” you huff between laughs.

“You needed a break baby, I know you, I know you can get in your head and I know you can get a bit overwhelmed. I thought I’d come see you and get you away from work for a while. Come on follow me” He takes your hand and leads you to a vacant room. He pulls you close and the two of you look into each other's eyes, enjoying the quiet in the comfort of his arms.

“I needed this” you sigh, “Thank you” You go to hug him and bury your face in his neck, content to stay there for just a few more minutes. 

After a while you two part ways, he heads back to resume his paperwork, and you walk back with a smile and a little pep in your step, thankful and ever so grateful for your sweet boyfriend.

May I request Graves X Reader? I love reading Graves fics

oh lord me too, he doesn't get enough love

Graves Headcannons

One thing to say: Sassy man apocalypse

This man is so cocky and so sassy it isn’t even funny.

At when you first met and got together hes so cocky and kind of arrogant, he puts on a mask to hide how he truly feels because he is terrified of being vulnerable. He definitely feels like he’s not a man if he doesn’t act ‘masculine’. Although that mask does crack after a particularly hard mission

The click of the front door and near silent steps alerted you that your boyfriend was finally home. It had been a couple months since you last saw him and you were giddy to greet him at the door. You halted however, when he didn’t greet you with his usual ferver and snarkiness and instead just looked past you with sunken eyes. He lazily took off his boots and let you lead him to the dining room. After a hearty home-cooked meal and hot shower, you were sure he would snap out of it and go back to his usual snarky self. Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice him open the bathroom door. All clean, he trudged over to you and gently laid his head on your lap. You tried to offer to talk about what was on his mind but he always shut that down, so you opted to just sit in silence and play with his damp hair, scratching his scalp and softly holding him. Muffled cries broke the silence, he had finally let down a wall (one of many but we’ll talk about that later) around you. 

After that instance he still held a lot of walls but showing vulnerability was a lot more common, he confided in you about his feelings and thoughts, lied less to you about his worries and his job

Quite the joker, he strikes me as a guy to play pranks or tell you shitty jokes just to hear you groan or chuckle a little. It fills him with pride when he can get a reaction out of you and even more so when you tell one right back. This carries into to other things like arguments, flirting or even just interacting. He will purposefully get on your nerves just to get you to fight back, finds it like a fun game and will don a shit-eating grin during the whole ordeal, which only eggs you on further. (Although if he does seriously piss you off and you tell him that he will apologize and get you flowers)

Does invite his friends (ahem the shadows ahem) over to hang out, will tell you *most* of the time

You decided that it would be nice to get some grocery shopping done for both you and your boyfriend, and after a couple hours you arrived at the door, you knew Philip would be home as he said he was going to keep himself busy that day with projects or just lounging about, so imagine your surprise when you go to get your keys to unlock the door and a random man opens it for you and a couple others offer to help you put away your groceries while your boyfriend greets you from the couch.

He loves touching you, I think his personal favorites are: hugging you from the back (especially when you're busy doing something, and will just hold you there and bury his face in your neck for a good 5 minutes), holding hands, and CUDDLING big time. Adores every minute of it even if he acts like it annoys him(which he will) and that you asked for it (you didn’t) and you’re the only one who wants to cuddle (you’re not). It knocks him right out too, you'll be having a conversation and then one minute he's responding to you in soft snores.

Very handy around the house, knows how and will fix pretty much anything that needs to be fixed,  Disclaimer: do not call a repairman it will bruise his ego SO bad.

All in all I would rate him a 7/10, a bit annoying but a cutie patootie

Requests???

Hello everybody! I am new to writing fics and I want to start, if anyone has any requests don’t hesistate to give them to me. Here are the characters I am writing for at the moment:

COD:

Price

Ghost

Soap

Gaz

Graves

Alejandro

Rudy

Nikto

König

Baby face ghost

Task Force 141 had seen a lot of strange things in their time—war crimes, black ops gone wrong, the inside of a Gulag—but nothing, nothing, could have prepared them for this.

It started like any other morning at base. Soap was making coffee, Gaz was half-asleep over his breakfast, and Price was nursing a cup of tea like it was the only thing keeping him from murdering someone. Everything was normal. Peaceful, even.

Then Ghost walked in.

Wearing nothing but his grey sweatpants.

Every conversation, every movement, every thought in the room came to a screeching halt.

Ghost—Lieutenant Simon “Bloody Death Incarnate” Riley—was absolutely jacked. Broad shoulders, thick arms, abs carved like a Greek statue. It wasn’t just the muscles, though; no, the true crime against reality was his face.

Because it was adorable.

Soft, smooth skin. Rosy cheeks. A button nose. Full, pouty lips that belonged on a goddamn romance novel cover, not on the most feared operator in the SAS.

Soap blinked so hard he nearly concussed himself. “Mate.” His voice cracked. “What the actual—?”

Gaz made an inhuman noise, halfway between a wheeze and a choked sob. He looked at Price for guidance, only to find the Captain had momentarily short-circuited, eyes locked on Ghost like he was staring at an eldritch horror.

Ghost—oblivious to their collective existential crisis—walked over to the coffee machine like this was a completely normal occurrence. He grunted in approval when he found Soap had already brewed a pot.

Price was the first to recover. “…Ghost.”

Ghost hummed as he poured his coffee. “Hmm?”

A loaded silence.

Price sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Put some damn clothes on.”

Ghost, still blissfully unaware, took a sip of his coffee. “Didn’t think you’d be such a prude, Captain.”

Gaz sputtered, nearly choking on his food. Soap still hadn’t blinked.

“Simon.” Soap’s voice was barely above a whisper. “How. How have you been hiding this?

Ghost finally turned to them, brow furrowed. “Hiding what?”

Gaz gestured vaguely at all of him. “This!” He sounded genuinely offended. “You walk around like some grim reaper from hell, sounding like the physical embodiment of a war crime, and you’ve been looking like—like—”

“Like a goddamn cherub,” Soap finished, still staring.

Ghost rolled his eyes, setting his coffee down with an exasperated sigh. “It’s just a face, Johnny.”

Soap jabbed a finger at him. “No. No, it’s not just a face, Ghost! That face does not belong to the same man that made me do a hundred push-ups in the rain because I missed a shot on the range!”

Ghost just shrugged, like they weren’t having a full-on crisis about his existence. “Y’done?”

“No, I’m not done,” Soap hissed. “Because now I’m thinking—Ghost, you ever been carded for beer?”

Ghost’s eye twitched. “What?”

Gaz let out a strangled laugh. “Oh my God, you have, haven’t you?”

Price, having finally gathered himself, stood with all the authority of a war-weary father who had long since given up on controlling his wayward children. “Alright, that’s enough. Gaz, stop laughing. Soap, shut up. Ghost, clothes. Now.”

Ghost huffed but turned to leave. As he walked out, Soap called after him, voice still thick with disbelief.

“I knew no man could be that terrifying all the time!”

Ghost flipped him off on his way out.

Part two of the Lavender Marriage au! Considered adding smut to this but I chickened out lmao if the ending is abrupt it’s because of that 🙂‍↕️

The four men are fuming.

Since witnessing the lip-lock battle, they’ve been stewing in barely-contained anger. Every time they see you- on your porch in one of those sweet sundresses, humming to yourself as you water the flower boxes or hand them freshly-baked cookies- they’re consumed by a burning desire to tell you the “truth” about your cheating husband. But the ring on your finger, and your seemingly cheerful demeanor, stop them every time.

Still, they’re restless. It’s wrong to let you live in ignorance like this. But also, it’s not their business even if they want it- even if they want you. The thought of ruining your cozy life, despite your husband’s unfaithfulness, isn’t an easy one to swallow.

It becomes easier to think of admitting it all to you with each passing day, though.

“He’s walking around like he’s done nothing wrong! The bastard. How does she not see it?” Kyle grumbles, gesturing wildly with his tea mug. He grits his teeth, watching your husband saunter inside the house without offering to help you. He just puts down a plate of steak Kyle knows is too fucking cooked. Heathen. Bastard. Ughhh.

“She’s either blind or loyal to a fault,” Johnny agrees, sprawled out on the couch, looking far more despondent than usual. “Breaks ma bloody heart, lads. She’s makin’ us lemonade an’ cookies, an’ he’s aff canoodlin’ wiith some bloke under her roof.”

Simon grunts, his eyes narrowing as he joins Kyle’s side. “What kind of man cheats on her? She’s…” He trails off, unwilling to finish the sentence, but everyone knows what he means: She’s perfect.

Meanwhile, John leans back in his chair, puffing thoughtfully on a cigar. He’s been unusually quiet, though it’s clear he’s just as agitated, fist clenching on his lap. Finally, he speaks, his tone commanding.

“We wait until he leaves,” he says, much to the others’ dismay. “We don’t meddle now. If she finds out on her own, we’ll be there for her. Until then, we keep our mouths shut.”

The others grumble, but they nod in agreement. For now.

You, meanwhile, are oblivious to the internal warfare raging next door. Your days are filled with your usual routine of pretending to be the dutiful wife, gossiping with the neighborhood ladies, sweetly cooing about your hardworking husband, and pretending you don’t know they will gosspi about you after you leave. On the way, you also deliver a basket of homemade muffins to your handsome neighbors.

Such good men; they didn’t even yet know they were your little kitchen rats to taste-test everything you make for the annual baking contest. This year, that bitch Beatrice will not win and you swore it.

“Oh, these look incredible,” Johnny says when you hand over the basket. He flashes you a cheeky grin, and you can’t help but smile back, cheeks warm. “Y’know, if yer husband does not appreciate all this, I might just have ta steal ye away, lass.”

You laugh, waving off the comment as a joke, but the other three men go rigid. “Not the time, mate.” Kyle mutters, elbowing Johnny, though you really don’t notice. Their house is coming along so nicely and so fast; the perks of having handy men as its owners, you suppose.

Later that day, while you’re trimming the hedges of your precious little garden , you spot Simon working on their roof. You catch him staring at you- not that you blame him, you are wearing your one of cutest skirt and top- and you give him a small wave. He almost falls off the roof even if he does wave back, so you decide to just focus on the damned hedges and hopefully avoid any more incidents.

They’re so distracted by your lovely self that they almost forget their rage toward your husband. Almost. Because just as Price and Johnny are helping you carry bags of groceries back to your house, your husband- traitorous bastard- walks out of the house all patient and whistling.

“Be back soon, honey! You know how long my business trips take.” your husband calls over his shoulder, giving you a quick wink before he hops into a car and drives off.

Unbelievable.

The tension is palpable. John glares. Johnny looks like he’s seconds from sprinting after the car. Simon mutters, “Unbelievable,” under his breath from where he and Kyle are watching from the window.

“Oh dear,” you sigh, though on the inside you are very happy. You know your husband’s boyfriend has a nice surprise picked for him- you helped get it, after all- and now you have the house all to yourself again. Perfect.

You turn to John, batting your lashes up at him and it is as if all his anger melts away. “Be my guests this evening, John? I’d be terribly lonely, all by myself in this big house.”

John really, truly, fucking hates your husband for doing this to a precious, lovely thing like you. But at least it means they’ll be the ones in your company.

“Alright, doll,” he nods, fond as he watches the grin stretch across your face. “Let me just go tell the muppets, then we’ll come by and help.”

“There’s no need-“

“I insist, sweetheart.”

That evening, as promised, the four of them come by to “keep you company” and help. You’re in your element, flitting around the kitchen in an apron as you serve drinks and chatter away, oblivious to the tension radiating from the group. You are practically glowing; your pretty flowers were complimented and the food looks so good you can’t wait to post it on your instagram.

Simon leans against the counter, arms crossed, staring daggers into the walls- into the portraits of you and your husband. Kyle is poking at one of the cookies you made like it’s done something to offend him, his mind adrift. Johnny’s chopping away at vegetables, muttering under his breath and wishing it was something else under his knife. And John? He’s nursing his whiskey like it’s the only thing keeping him sane. It might as well be. You talk so nicely about your husband and what he’s customized for you in the kitchen, still so unaware of the truth.

John contemplates just telling you right then and there, but then it happens.

The front door swings open, and in strolls your husband, laughing loudly with none other than his boyfriend- the one the group saw kissing. They’re holding hands, both grinning like idiots.

“Sorry we’re back so soon!” your husband calls out, completely unbothered by the fact that your house is now hosting four very large, very angry military men. “I forgot my wallet-”

The rest of his sentence dies in his throat when he notices the four men staring at him, expressions ranging from pure disbelief to murderous rage. His boyfriend freezes too, glancing nervously between you and the men like he’s walked into a firing squad.

“What the bloody hell is this?” Johnny practically shouts, pointing between the two men with the knife. “You’ve got the audacity to bring him here? Here?”

Kyle crushes the cookie when he slams his fist on the table, standing abruptly. “Under her roof? After all she’s done for you? Again?”

Simon doesn’t say a word because he truly doesn’t need to- he’s just staring, fists clenched, practically vibrating with barely-contained fury.

John finally speaks, his voice low and dangerous, pulling your surprised self against his side protectively. “You’ve got some confessing to do.”

Your husband just… blinks, then glances at you. “Wait, you didn’t tell them?”

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I didn’t think it would come up like this.”

“Tell us what?” John demands, his tone sharp. He is still glaring at your husband and the boyfriend

You wave your hand dismissively, like this is the most normal thing in the world with a soft sigh. “Oh, we’re not really married for love, John. It’s just for the benefits- y’know, keeping his parents off his back and mine off mine.”

The room falls silent. Dead silent.

“What?” Simon finally growls, his voice low and dangerous. All this time…

Your husband grins sheepishly, wrapping an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders. “Yeah, I’m gay. This is my boyfriend. He’s great, isn’t he?” He says, kissing his boyfriend’s cheek.

Johnny looks like he’s just been hit with the frying pan the vegetables he’d been chopping was meant to go in. “Yer what?”

Kyle stares at you, wide-eyed. “You knew? This whole time?”

You shrug, popping a cookie into your mouth. Ohh, Beatrice should count her fucking days. “Of course I knew. We planned the whole thing together. It’s not that complicated, really.”

Simon mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like a curse.

“Anyways, we do have places to be,” your husband sighs. “I’ll just get my wallet and leave you all be to your date.” When he returns with his wallet a few minutes later, he kisses your forehead. “Bye, love. I snuck some of the cookies too- Beatrice is absolutely not winning this year, trust me.” And then he leaves at last.

John exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “Let me get this straight,” he says slowly. “You’re married but it’s just… out of necessity, and you’ve just been… pretending to love him?”

“Exactly!” you say brightly, clapping your hands together. “See? Not so hard to understand.”

The four men just stand there, utterly gobsmacked.

“You mean to tell me,” Johnny starts, pointing an accusatory finger at you after placing the knife down. “that we’ve been stewin’ for weeks over a cheatin’ husband that doesn’t even exist?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” you reply with a giggle, pouring a drink. Your eyes widen then. “But you cannot tell anyone here, in this shitty town, about this!”

“We won’t, love, promise.” Kyle groans, slumping back into his chair. “I need a bloody drink.” And then he perks up when you slide him the drink you just made. “…fucking lifesaver you are, love. Thank you.”

Simon just shakes his head, muttering, “Unbelievable.” under his breath.

John sighs, downing the rest of his whiskey in one go. “You’re going to be the death of us, doll.”

You grin, completely unfazed. “Oh, come on, boys. It’s not that bad.”

The four of them exchange a look- one of disbelief, exasperation, and maybe just a hint of relief. Because as much as they’re reeling from the truth, one thing’s clear: you’re technically single. And that, at least, is something they can work with.

Chubby reader x monster!141…. Chubby reader where you are at all-time-low after your ex cheated on you with the woman you had always been insecure of (she was everything you were not), so now you are just done. Done with him, with her, with your terrible work that forced you to come in even while sick, done with life.

So you go to a bar, and intend to fully drink yourself and all your sorrows away. You don’t even care enough to ask any friends to accompany you- they knew. They fucking knew. Calling them friends anymore is just stupid- and you don’t care enough to look around at anyone; you know you aren’t anyone’s preference either.

When a man, big and burly, curling horns and two big ass wings (maybe one of those dragon shifters? You know harpies have feathers, but the rest of your brain is too muddled) sits down next to you, you just ignore him and continue nursing your drink, trying your best to bite back the tears in your eyes.

“That’s enough now, love,” he croons, and much to your confusion, he takes the glass away from you. His voice is rough and rumbling, like thunder. Too hazy, too drunk, you don’t even care enough to get angry at him. No, your eyes fill with tears instead. “No, no, calm down. Let’s get you out of here, alright, little love?”

Another man joins your other side, just as big and burly but shorter than the dragon man who is making you tear up by holding your drink, your source of solace tonight, hostage in his hand. This one is a werewolf, his ears flicking in your direction much like his grin and his tail eagerly thumping to and fro against your chair.

“Sweet lass,” he croons, your teary eyes flicking towards him. You can see his hands clench in the air. Why, why, why- you just wanted to drink away. They are both so handsome, such a shame they clearly don’t like you and are just bothering you for the sake of bothering you, a fat woman in a miserable corner. “Enough tears and enough alcohol, aye, hen? Yer aff yer heid!”

His words are so strange, your tears momentarily pause. “What…?” You wonder outloud, shivering when you feel a warm breath across your neck, warming your skin. The dragon. His hand settles on your lower back, nudging you to get off the chair with them, and you feel like crying again. He probably can feel all the fat there, how horrible-

“Careful there, little love.” Dragon steadies you with two hands when you get dizzy, and with weak hands you try to swat at him, try to move away, but the werewolf is at your other side and keeping you pressed between them.

“S’op… stop callin’ me that,” you mumble. The tears roll down then. “Not- not funny, not at all-“

Two other hands on your back, a tail thumping against the back of your thighs, you are still led outside even as you babble about everything. Your size, your ex, the one your ex cheated, your work, your ex-

You want your damn drink back.

For their part, Price and Johnny didn’t think coming out for a drink tonight would lead to finding their last soulmate. The second they had entered the dinky bar, John had expected to need to puff out a deep, smoky breath to keep his nose clean from all the overwhelming smells and Johnny had prepared to to keep his nose happily pressed into John’s skin.

They hadn’t expected to smell you, something like the smell of stepping into a warm home after spending time out in winter, something like watching soft, golden sunlight stream into the nest room on a morning they spend sleeping in with Kyle and Simon. Like soulmate, like the last link of John’s hoarde and Johnny’s pack, and he has no doubt that you are Kyle’s nest and Simon’s. Simply his. A part of him just as you are a part of them.

Driven so wholly by instincts, seeing you drunk and crying pushing them even more into said instincts, they easily you herd along with them, back to their home. All explanations, everything else can wait until tomorrow. You are so soft to the touch, all tender and squishy, they already think you so perfect. In the back of the car, it doesn’t take seconds before you are dozing off and dead to the world, already so trusting.

By tomorrow morning, Simon would be easily able to track down where you live and get all your items. And also find that shitty ex of yours. John hasn’t yet decided if he wants to thank or beat him.

Watching the way Johnny holds you in his lap from the rearview mirror while he drives, hands squeezing your lovehandles with a low groan, mumbling about how much he already adores you, soft bonnie hen, all theirs- John decides he doesn’t give a single fuck about your ex at the moment. He needs to hold you between his arms and wings, in the comfort of his nest.

Fuck, he might end up breaking more than just a few speed limits.

A FEAST

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick x Reader // has female parts !

A/N; okay so! This is a small Drabble so it’s like—cut short a bit? Along with this is a Drabble and uses female parts! Short word count! Also I’m still getting used to writing so I apologize if this is messy (┳◇┳) I will edit when I see fit for myself aha!

NSFW under the cut!

Gaz doesn’t know how he found himself in this position. His head full of lust, his tongue sucking up your lower lips. Your plush thighs on the side of his head, caging him in. And your soft mewls of pleasure make him twitch in his pants. He just came back from deployment—unlocking the doors of the shred house just to find you dressed in beautiful lingerie. And he couldn’t help himself. You were wrapped up like a present, from him to unwrap over and over again. And he loved it. His mind is fuzzy as he finds himself kneeled, while you’re laid on your back on the edge of the bed.

He eats you out like a starved man. Your plush thighs over his shoulder, while his hands rest under your upper thighs. His hands knead your flesh while his mouth slobbers against your wet slicked folds. He hums in delight as your taste fills his mouth. Your whimpered moans make him hard, but your lower lips make him harder. He’s still clothed in his shorts, yet he has no shirt. Your body lays naked on the bed. Sweat trickling down your forehead.

“Fuck love..” he whispers as his licks over your clit. The sounds of wet slurping noises follow after, sending waves of pleasure up and down your spine. He doesn’t speak to you—he speaks to your pussy. “So wet for me. So so fucking delicious.” He mutters, downright pussydrunk as his lips smack, covered in your juices.

His tongue is buried in your hole but peaks out to lick and feast more. Every time you try and squirm away his hold on you locks down. Forcing your body to push back up against his mouth, his nose, his face. His nose brushes up on your clit, officially making the majority of the bottom of his face wet with your slick.

His eyes close for a split second as he groans in pleasure. Inhaling your sex scent like it’s a new perfume. Slurping down your juices like a forbidden drink that’s supposed to be out of reach.

“Gaz!—Kyle.! Oh!” Your voice is hoarse as it calls out his Call Sign then his real name in pathetic mewls of pleasure.

One of your hands finds his head of hair, gripping it and making him grunt out. Your other hand trying to muffle your moans, yet proving unsuccessful as Gaz purposely trails up and down your wet folds and nips at your clit teasingly. Your body twitches in delight, his movements are so overwhelming. You can feel the knot in your lower belly. The way his tongue moves and explores your lower wet cavern. The way he doesn’t stop as he can feel you clench down on his tongue, only making him continue on more. He can taste you. He can feel you as you get more wetter under only his tongue and soft peppered kisses on your wetness.

Dripping, he thinks. You’re absolutely dripping. Soppy and wet and you coat his face so nice. His eyes peek open to look up. Your eyes are shut in pleasure and your mouth open as it produces those beautiful noises. His mouth leaves your soppy and quivering cunt for a moment, peppering wet kisses up your thighs. He can smell your scented body wash—inhaling it so nicely. But he cut himself short as his wet lips found your clit, his tongue teasing so nicely.

A FEAST

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick x Reader // has female parts !

A/N; okay so! This is a small Drabble so it’s like—cut short a bit? Along with this is a Drabble and uses female parts! Short word count! Also I’m still getting used to writing so I apologize if this is messy (┳◇┳) I will edit when I see fit for myself aha!

NSFW under the cut!

Gaz doesn’t know how he found himself in this position. His head full of lust, his tongue sucking up your lower lips. Your plush thighs on the side of his head, caging him in. And your soft mewls of pleasure make him twitch in his pants. He just came back from deployment—unlocking the doors of the shred house just to find you dressed in beautiful lingerie. And he couldn’t help himself. You were wrapped up like a present, from him to unwrap over and over again. And he loved it. His mind is fuzzy as he finds himself kneeled, while you’re laid on your back on the edge of the bed.

He eats you out like a starved man. Your plush thighs over his shoulder, while his hands rest under your upper thighs. His hands knead your flesh while his mouth slobbers against your wet slicked folds. He hums in delight as your taste fills his mouth. Your whimpered moans make him hard, but your lower lips make him harder. He’s still clothed in his shorts, yet he has no shirt. Your body lays naked on the bed. Sweat trickling down your forehead.

“Fuck love..” he whispers as his licks over your clit. The sounds of wet slurping noises follow after, sending waves of pleasure up and down your spine. He doesn’t speak to you—he speaks to your pussy. “So wet for me. So so fucking delicious.” He mutters, downright pussydrunk as his lips smack, covered in your juices.

His tongue is buried in your hole but peaks out to lick and feast more. Every time you try and squirm away his hold on you locks down. Forcing your body to push back up against his mouth, his nose, his face. His nose brushes up on your clit, officially making the majority of the bottom of his face wet with your slick.

His eyes close for a split second as he groans in pleasure. Inhaling your sex scent like it’s a new perfume. Slurping down your juices like a forbidden drink that’s supposed to be out of reach.

“Gaz!—Kyle.! Oh!” Your voice is hoarse as it calls out his Call Sign then his real name in pathetic mewls of pleasure.

One of your hands finds his head of hair, gripping it and making him grunt out. Your other hand trying to muffle your moans, yet proving unsuccessful as Gaz purposely trails up and down your wet folds and nips at your clit teasingly. Your body twitches in delight, his movements are so overwhelming. You can feel the knot in your lower belly. The way his tongue moves and explores your lower wet cavern. The way he doesn’t stop as he can feel you clench down on his tongue, only making him continue on more. He can taste you. He can feel you as you get more wetter under only his tongue and soft peppered kisses on your wetness.

Dripping, he thinks. You’re absolutely dripping. Soppy and wet and you coat his face so nice. His eyes peek open to look up. Your eyes are shut in pleasure and your mouth open as it produces those beautiful noises. His mouth leaves your soppy and quivering cunt for a moment, peppering wet kisses up your thighs. He can smell your scented body wash—inhaling it so nicely. But he cut himself short as his wet lips found your clit, his tongue teasing so nicely.

LOVERS CREEK

John Price x chubby Reader // prologue

A/N; this is my first time actually writing a story for any fandom really. And I’m gonna try and be consistent as possible! This story will have multiple parts—so please be warned of that! The story also switches from past to present a lot and I don’t usually use first person so! This will also be uploaded on my AO3 !

Please note I do not allow my writing to be translated, published anywhere else that isn’t me uploading it, and I would not like it on any Poe AI or any of the sort without my permission, or acknowledgment ! I’m still learning as I go about c.ai and Poe so! Also I do not own any of the call of duty characters used in this story! I really “own” the y/n ( reader ) !

Story Summary: You and Price are childhood best friends, and almost Highschool sweethearts. But unlike a cliche, you both hold feelings in for years, even after graduating. Communication between you too soon diminishes as life after graduation gets busy. Price has succeeded in hiding his feelings, until he gets a letter at base. It’s a letter from you. And it’s about your wedding..

Dear John,

I hope this letter finds you well! It was hard finding anyone in the area that was still mutual with us to know where you were. But I took a trip to see your mother and she filled me in plenty. I didn’t know you were still doing that military job of yours, figured you’d find a steady life after. You always talked about a lake house you wanted to buy after your military duty.

But enough with miscellaneous talk—I plan to do that later with you— I’m inviting you, John Price, My best friend, to my wedding which will be hosted at the Saint Crossroads Church. The same church our mothers would force us to go to on Sundays. I remember how you always itched to take that tie you always wore off, but your mom would slap your hand away just in time. You’d sit next to me in the first row as the pastor would preach his word.

But now, on September 17th of this year—and next week!—, he will be my officiant, marrying me off to my soon to be husband. And I hope to see you there, in the front row like old times.

Sincerely,

Your Best Friend

His eyes read over the letter multiple times. His rough hands held the delicate letter with such softness that he barely touched it.

He wasn’t expecting this. John could feel his heart race, pounding and trying to leap out his chest. You. His best friend that he hasn’t forgotten was getting married. There was denial sprouting in his head. You can’t be getting married right? He thought to himself, but the fancy yet simple letter that laid softly in his head showed him more than the truth. It showed him the harsh reality. He remembered how your mom and his bonded—making you guys best friends as well. He remembered how the both of you would stick together around primary school, all the way to secondary school. He could remember his hidden feelings for you—he hid them so he wouldn’t ruin the friendship.

A conflicted sigh left his mouth. His rough hand put the letter down on his desk as his other hand shagged through his hair. He knew he had to go. A no show would break you.

And he’d love to see you again..

A/N ; just the prologue! Nothing too big but a bit short! I’m really just testing if anyone wants to read this aside from my friends aha!!

TagList ; @jenniferpendragon

So random, but any Gaz lovers out there??? I need a beta reader for something I’m writing smut wise 👨‍🦯👨‍🦯

I have two beta readers but they usually beta read for smth else jdjjd so—if anyone wants to be a beta reader in general it would be greatly appreciated LMAOOO 🧎🧎🧎feel free to message if you’re interested

Along with having moots,,,I’m new to this if u couldn’t tell 🧎

NAVIGATION

ABOUT ME

ETC

Hey hey first things first ! On here I would like to be referred to a Beau! I’m a fanfic writer for a few fandoms in which you can find on my masterlist as well!

Down Below the cut is my MasterList to the things I write! So far there’s only COD stuff cause majority of my friends enjoy that 😅

I do want to put a trigger warning on here! And I will also put trigger warnings on the writing themselves! I tend to write a lot of angst and smut because I’m very bad at coming up with full fledged out plots sometimes but aha! Oh well—

MasterList

Call of Duty

- John Price

LOVERS CREEK ; click here !

- Simon Ghost Riley

- Kyle Gaz Garrick

- Johnny Soap MacTavish

MORE TO COME..

Ask box is open!

Sooooo, guess who’s writing a John Price x Reader where they’re childhood friends that love each other but won’t admit it! And years go by with communication that seems to diminish. Only for price to get a letter that he’s invited to a wedding…your wedding .! He doesn’t know how to feel, but he knows his heart pounds once again as his long lost love for you entere his mind….

There’s already two chapters in progress and my beta readers are helping out ! :]

Praying someone can help me find this cod Drabble fic thing jdjdjd

It was about Gaz going into like—a school to talk about stranger danger n’ the reader is the classroom teacher 😭❤️ it has been in my head for a hot minute whew

I’ve been having bear price brain rot and omg <333 I wrote some things 🤭

I’ve done made a whole thing for wolf buddies Soap and Gaz too, and a Buck Simon 😩😩

Omg,,, that shit with graves ,,,

imagine you, a recently divorced person and Graves is working your case or whatever and feelings get caught in between 😩😩

I kinda wanna write this up now 🗣️🗣️

Edit ; it’s in the wips LMAO

Okay I got some headcanons of Soap and Civilian Reader in the wips 👁👁 and i plan to finish tonight or tmr ???

Thinking about this cod fanfic and I need help finding it 💀💀

I think it was either soap or ghost?? Maybe even Konig??? Or price??? And like, they have a wife reader who takes care of 1-2 kids. And like, the fathers at the school thinks she's a single mom and always flirt with her. Because they never see Soap/Ghost/Konig around. And mom/wife reader is friendly cause she's like,"it's the right thing to do right??"

And so once Soap/Ghost/Konig are home for a bit, the kids tell them and attends the kids/school event going on dressed in their military gear or smth. And like, the dads are shocked and the moms flirt over him n stuff.

Idk it's been on my mind 💀💀 por favor I need that fic found LMAO