Call Of Duty Mw2 - Blog Posts

and they kiss apparently !

I see no difference

You cannot tell me which one is price it’s impossible

@giftober 2024 | Day 13: “Olympics/Sports”

If falling out of the helicopter was an Olympic sport, Kyle would get gold. (Price is a close sliver)

⚠️CW: SUGGESTIVE ART⚠️

I’m so in love w Soap

Been obsessed w cod lately so I sketched one of my favs <3

Late Night Risers

Thank you for feeding us! 🙏

███████ “Delta 1-1“ ████████ From Task Force: The Anomaly

x x x/x x x/ x x x

Just a Mobile Task Force member that is far too tired and desensitized from dealing with the bullshit and trying to get a pay raise. Their “a jack of all trades is a master of none, but oftentimes better than a master of one” mindset has caused headaches with the amount of paperwork that comes with transferring from Task Force to Task Force. 

“I just want to increase my chances of survival. Why do I have to be the one thrown around like a hot potato from one to another?”

Delta will always be a nameless, faceless operator. After all, who says they can survive another day when more and more anomalies are surfacing and working with Task Force 141 will not change that. Why search for an erased identity? Why bother discovering it when the owner willingly lost it years ago?

Painting: Gassed by John Singer Sargent

Sigh, yes I know I should wait until my shadow ban is off, but I want feed the people who followed from the little time I was visible. 

@rythespy​ @sano-lost-connection ​ @sagedelasage

MC in the Anything-Verse Pt. 2

A/N: The Anything-verse is owned by @darklordofthesimp, please go check them out before reading. If you haven’t already read my work ‘The Trouble with Time-Loops’ on Ao3 this might not make much sense either. I do not own Call of Duty. Anyway, on to the story!

MC had always been the sky, never the Star. They prefer it that way, if they’re being honest. They preferred the proximity to earth. They preferred to watch things from above, present, but never quite there. They preferred the safety of the sky, the calmness, the anger, the warmth, and the chill. Consistent, yet ever-changing.

If MC was the sky, the two Snipers were the Stars. Celestial and distant. Ever burning, ever glowing. The center of their own galaxies. Massive Stars that will turn into Supergiants. Supergiants that will someday collapse from their own gravity. MC loathes to see the day that the Snipers fall. They loathe to witness the Supernova that will inevitably occur. MC knows that even if the Snipers become Neutron Stars, there will still be a Black Hole. A force so strong that it pulls in everything around it. (MC briefly thinks that the Snipers may already be Black Holes with how they pull in everything around them and leave destruction in their wake.)

Stargazing was something MC was familiar with, but sometimes they set their sights on things closer. The Earth and the Moon. König, the mountain of a man, the Earth in its entirety. Ghost, a man chasing a Sun, the Moon in its essence. Beautiful, powerful, and scarred. Forces of nature and heaven that cannot be contained or controlled. Not truly, anyway. The Earth looks up at the sky, but does not care. He is searching for a Star, not an atmosphere. The Moon doesn’t even glance at the sky, for he is above it. He is chasing a Sun. A Star much bigger than the one that lights up the sky.

MC is the sky. They are the atmosphere that grows thin. Slowly being destroyed. The Earth is the only one that notices. (He does nothing.) The sky cannot cry out for help, for no one listens to the sky. (They listen to the Stars though.) The sky will continue to wear away, continue to burn. It finds safety in the consistency of its destruction. The sky is falling and no one will catch it this time. (No one ever even tries.)

MC in the Anything-Verse

A/N: The Anything-verse is owned by @darklordofthesimp, please go check them out before reading. If you haven’t already read my work ‘The Trouble with Time-Loops’ on Ao3 this might not make much sense either. I do not own Call of Duty. Anyway, on to the story!

MC knew better than to interact with the two terrifying snipers on TF-141. Sunshine and Birdy. Yin and Yang. Polar opposites, yet somehow the same. Ethereal in their beauty, Professional in their field, and Utterly hopeless in each of their respective love lives. MC never really knew what to make of the two. (It didn’t help that MC hadn’t interacted with TF-141 since the Graves Incident.) The teen would only watch from the surveillance cameras as the Shakespearean tragedy unfurled through the screen.

They watched as Birdy struggled with their emotions and trauma, building up a wall that would put Jericho to shame. MC briefly wondered if König was the trumpet in that metaphor, slowly but surely breaking down those walls.

They watched as Sunshine and Ghost danced around each other and their feelings like boxers in a ring, neither willing to throw the first punch. MC had started a bet on who would confess first. Personally, they thought that someone would have to point it out before either of them actually said something. (Probably Price.)

Sometimes MC would look at the scars on each of the snipers. They can’t imagine the reminders that either must experience when they look in the mirror; the teen could sort of relate in their own fucked up way. Although, they knew that it wasn’t the same. The two adults had to go through the healing process for the marks that decorated their skin; MC hadn’t had to go through that process at all. The teen didn’t know if they should be grateful for that or not.

Sometimes when MC would wake up covered in their own blood, they’d remind themself that the two snipers had been through so much worse. The two snipers kept going on despite that. If the snipers could do it, so could they. (The teen ignores the part of their mind that tells them that the snipers were both grown adults and soldiers. The part that reminds them that they’re still just a child.)

MC knew better than to interact with the two terrifying snipers on TF-141. Sunshine and Birdy. Yin and Yang. Polar opposites, yet somehow the same. The main characters in a Shakespearean tragedy where hubris will lead to their downfall. MC never really liked plays. (They didn’t like sad endings either.) The teen was tired of watching the drama on the screen.

Domestic Farm Fluff GhostSoap

TW: Use of Ghost and Soap’s real names, tooth rotting fluff, and my coping

-----------------------------

“L.T you awake?” His husband’s words filled his ears, the heavy Scottish accent lingering in the air.

“M’ not your lieutenant anymore Johnny.” Ghost mumbled sitting up in the bed, the weighted blanket felt nice as Ghost wrapped himself tighter in it. 

“Ah, yer righ’ but yer still mine.” Soap grinned, pressing a kiss to Ghost’s jaw. “Now come on we gots to work on our farm M'eudail.”

“Five more minutes luv.” Ghost’s heavy English accent thickened as he tried to keep his eyes open. However his husband had other ideas. “Oi-” Ghost grumbled as Soap flopped on top of him, the shorter man pressing kisses all over his face to wake him up. “Johnny stop.” Ghost growled as he tried to sleep.

“No can do Mo chridhe.” Soap chuckled. “Come on! We gots to go feed the hen’s and milk dem cows.”

“...Can you do that?” Ghost asked opening one eye to look at Soap.

“Simon, yer so lazy.” Soap grumbled trying to push his husband off the bed. “Come on yer lazy Gowk. Is yer turn to deal with roosters.” Soap grinned as he successfully managed to push Ghost off the bed, his husband landing on the wooden floor with a soft thud.

“Oh come on Johnny. Didn’ have to push me off the bed. Coulda just woke me up normally.” Ghost grumbled as he got up, his joints popping as he stretched. “You eaten already?” 

“Firs' already tried, yer didnt wan to wake up. Second yer trustin me to cook?” Soap grinned teasingly as he passed Ghost, one of his embroidered cloth face masks that just covered the bottom half of his face.

“...Never.” Ghost hummed as he looped the straps of his mask around his ears. “C’mon Johnny, I’ll go make breakfast.” Ghost decended the wooden stairacse down to the lower level of their farmhouse, the dark wooden walls comforting and warm, he loved this home, and not just because his husband also lived in it.

“Whatcha gonna make Simon?” Soap smiled as he followed after his husband watching as the larger man started to grab different ingredients. 

“Pancakes Johnny.” Ghost hummed as he poured the pancake mix onto a pan. “Sleep well?”

“Like a wee baby.” Soap chuckled as he rested his head in his hands, watching his husband cook. “Yer got a nice arse Simon.” Soap teased.

“Shut up Johnny.” Ghost looked over at Soap, “Or I’ll leave you without pancakes.” 

“Wait! M’ sorry Simon.” Soap made puppy eyes at him, pleadingly clinging to him. “Jus’ dont take away m’ pancakes.” 

“You know I can’t say no to you luv.” Ghost chuckled, lifting his mask to kiss Soap’s forehead.

“Ah know. An am gonna exploi’ it till death.” Soap grinned wrapping his arms around Ghost’s waist and clinging to the taller man as he watched Ghost flip pancakes. “Yer know a love yer right M'eudail?” Soap whispered as he pressed kisses to Ghost’s neck.

“I know Johnny. I know.” Ghost chuckled, wrapping an arm around Soap. 

“Good. I think yer should remember that Simon.” Soap smiled softly as he rested his head on Ghost's shoulder. The two happily staying in their kitchen as Ghost finished up the pancakes. 

Translations~ M'eudail- dear/darling Mo chridhe- my heart Gowk- Fool

Massage

Summary: You give Price a massage after he gets back from a particularly hard deployment.

Pairing: John Price x fiancée!reader

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: mentions of injury(nothing too graphic), light sexual mentions, John Price(because let's be honest this man is a warning okay), fluff, 18+ MDNI

A/N: So Price won by a landslide in the poll😂 here's one of the fics I had planned so I hope yall enjoy! I did right this pretty drunk so apologies if it isn't great

Also, I didn't expect so many people to vote so thank you all so much!😭🫶🏼 Requets are also open!! Feel free to send in whatever you want just make sure it follows my blog rules! I've also got a few more fics in my drafts as well :)

***beware of typos(I tried my best to catch them all)

John turned the ignition off and his truck came to a stop. He looked at the house the two of you shared and smiled as he took in the warm glow coming from the window. Before you came into his life the house was cold and dark; he preferred coming home to this rather than the dark windows he used to. John opened the door and stepped out, wincing as he irritated the bruised muscles. This last deployment was harder than most; although everyone made it back alive, and for that he was thankful, going hand-to-hand with a mercenary ended with the mercenary dead but John fell from a metal walkway grate to the ground below. It resulted in a number of bruises, scratches, and a sprained shoulder.

John lifted his duffle bag out of the back seat and thought about how you would fret over the bruises that blemished his skin. You always checked him when he came home to see if he gained any new scars or broken body parts and he found it endearing. He walked slowly toward the door, his sore body preventing him from going faster. He dug in his pocket for his key and slipped it into the lock before stepping inside. “Love I’m home,” He called out, setting his duffle bag down by the door with a sigh of relief to have the weight off of his injured shoulder; he had a brace that kept him from moving his shoulder but it did nothing for the annoying pain of putting weight on it.

“Back here!” He heard your voice coming from the shared bedroom so he toed off his boots and walked down the hallway. He saw soft light coming from the bathroom and when he walked in he saw something that made his breath catch in his throat. You were in the bathtub with your hair loosely pulled back and sipping on a glass of wine, candles casting a warm illuminating glow. It wasn't anything overly sexual but it still made his face flush; here he was nearing forty and you made him feel like a school boy. “Hey love,” he said, taking in the sight of you before bending down and giving you a kiss. “I’m so glad you’re home,” You said, a heavy weight finally lifting off your chest at seeing your fiancée back in one piece. The black brace over his beige shirt was not lost on you but you didn’t say anything as you decided it was not as bad as it could be. “How’s the bath?” John asked. “You could always join me and find out,” You said, taking a sip of the red wine, looking at him over the rim of the glass. “Now how could I say no to that?” He smirked.

He took off the brace that was nothing but uncomfortable before undoing his belt and stripping off his pants. He slipped off his shirt, wincing as his shoulder twinged, and heard you gasp. “John!” You did your once over to ensure he hadn’t come home severely injured when your eyes landed on the bruises that colored his torso. “What the hell happened?” You asked, wincing when you thought about what could’ve caused such bruises. “If I told you that love, you’d be even more frantic,” He chuckled. “Don’t laugh John!” You chastised. John slipped in behind you after stripping completely, groaning at the warm water, and let you rest against him. “I’m sorry love but don’t freak out too much,” He replied. “They really do look worse than they are,” He added, planting a kiss on your head. He felt you relax more, as if you were afraid of hurting him, and he sighed. The weight of you pressed against him was actually comforting and he wrapped his arms around you. “At least you came home to me alive,” You said. “Just like I promised,” John replied, a long sigh leaving his body.

The two of you just sat there for a little while, your thumb absentmindedly grazing John’s arm; grateful to have your fiancée back. You felt him rest his head on your shoulder and his weary body sagged as he relaxed. You shifted and accidentally pressed your weight on one of John’s bruises and he grunted. “I’m sorry babe!” You said, turning around to sit on his lap carefully trying to avoid the purple-ish tender spots. “Don’t worry I’m tougher than I look,” He joked, running his hands along your sides. “You know,” You started, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I think I know of a way to make you feel better,” You said in a slow voice. “Oh yeah? I think I’m liking where this is going,” John replied, planting a kiss on your nose, then your cheeks, and finally your lips. ‘Hmm… I like the way you think but I was actually thinking about a massage,” You said. “Help those aching muscles,” You offered and smiled as he smirked. “Now that’s a good way to welcome a man home,” he said with a cheeky grin. “Why don’t you go lay on the bed and I’ll dry off and get the oil,” You suggested and stepped out of the tub.

You felt John’s hungry eyes on you and you grinned; John always made you feel desirable even on your worst day. You heard the water splash as John stepped out after pulling the plug, dripping water on the floor. You wrapped yourself in a towel and felt him swat your ass, eliciting a squeal out of you as he laughed. “Don’t take too long,” He said. John also grabbed a towel and quickly dried himself, being mindful of his injuries, and pulled on a clean pair of boxers. You emerged from the bathroom with a bottle of baby oil and saw John lounging on the bed, his pupils blown wide with lust as he watched your towel clad body. “See something you like?” You teased, before dropping the towel leaving you stark naked and John groaned. “I think you should stay like this all the time,” He said, a bit disappointed when you pulled on a bra and panty set. “I suggest you settle down; you’re not exactly in peak condition for sex,” You chuckled. “Come on turn over,” You said, and waited until he was laying on his stomach, arms relaxed.

You got on top of him and straddled his hips, taking notice of the scratches on his back. There were several silver lines across his body from his several years of military service. You had counted every scar on his body countless times so you could always know when he got new ones. But these scratches were new; red and fresh in contrast to the silver healed scars. You squirted a quarter sized amount of baby oil on your hands, rubbed them together, and pressed your hands firmly on John’s back. Using light pressure you began to knead his shoulders, mindful not to press too hard on his injured one, and firmly moved down to his lower back. “Jesus love,” John groaned. John felt himself further relax as you helped ease his aching muscles. You used your thumbs to press into his lower back and rub in small circles before continuing those small circles all the way up his back to his neck.

You loved feeling his skin underneath your hands; the way his muscles rippled when you touched him and it made you feel good that you were able to give him this attention. You heard grunts and moans as you continued to work on his back and shoulders, slowly massaging away the tension that rested in his muscles. You felt your tough military husband become putty under your hands and you couldn't help but grin. “You know I was thinking,” you said, feeling him tense as you needed a particularly large knot at the base of his neck. “What's that love?” He grunted, his voice slurring slightly as your hands slowly lulled him closer to sleep. “I know we had plans to go to that new French place for dinner but maybe we could stay in tomorrow?” You suggested to him. “Maybe just stay in bed and order takeout,” you continued, applying a little more oil onto your hands and rubbing your hands down his arms as he lazily nodded his head. “Would you like that?” You asked. When you didn’t get a response you looked down at his languid form and realized his breathing had become deeper and he started to snore a little. You smiled and slowly got off his back, careful not to wake him, and pulled the covers over him. “Good night John,” you whispered, planting a kiss on his cheek and turning off the lamp before climbing in bed next to him. You soon fell asleep and slept better than you had in months.

Tis The Season

Summary: John helps you decorate the house for Christmas

Pairing: John Price x wife!reader

Word Count:

Warnings: none just fluff :)

A/n: here is my first ever fic for our man John Price! I really hope you enjoy this :) if you have any requests please send them my way I love writing for these boys! As always be aware of typos! Feedback is always appreciated :)

John fiddled with the lock on his front door, juggling his duffel bag and the bouquet of flowers he had gotten for you. He slid the key into the lock and heard it click before stepping inside and locking the door behind him. John toed off his shoes knowing you don't like shoes on in the house. He tossed his keys into the bowl by the front door and his duffel bag made a thump as he dropped it by his shoes. He heard soft Christmas music drifting throughout the home you shared and he smiled to himself.

"Love?" He asked, noticing boxes sitting around his living room and his kitchen bar counter. The boxes had labels that read things like "Christmas lights" and "tree ornaments". "Darlin' I'm home," he called out. He heard a thump coming above him and heard you grunting and he made his way to the attic, seeing the ladder down. He saw your face appear over the side and smile down. "John! You weren't supposed to be home yet!" You said. "Yeah I got done early wanted to come home and surprise you," he said, his thick accent rumbling in his chest. "Did you move the boxes down the ladder by yourself?" He asked.

"Yeah I wanted to get it done before you got here. You weren't supposed to be here for another couple of hours Bear," she said and John caught himself smiling at the little term of endearment you had for him. "Okay well I can help you I don't want you to hurt yourself," John said. "No babe it's okay. Why don't you go shower? I've already laid some fresh clothes on the bed for you," you said, coming down the ladder. "Thank you for the flowers they're beautiful," you added, giving him a peck on the cheek before taking them to put them in a vase. He noticed you were wearing his shirt and boxers and smiled, remembering when he was trying to find that shirt before he left.

John stepped out of the shower, a towel wrapped securely around his waist. He noticed the fresh clothes his wife had laid out for him and his heart clenched. Even though it was something so small that people would normally not notice, it meant a lot to him. The fact she had even thought ahead to lay clothes out for him made him love you even more. He slipped on the gray t shirt and gray sweat pants before drying his hair. He made his way to the attic once more and saw you struggling to get the tree down from the attic.

John came up behind you and caged you in his arms as he grabbed onto the tree. You inhaled his sandalwood body wash and for a minute you swayed. "Let's get this tree down dove," he said, his lips dangerously close to your ear. You and John walked down the ladder and finally got the large Christmas tree to the ground. "Is there anything else up there?" He asked. "Just a few more boxes," you said. John went back up the ladder to get the boxes that were still left. "Most of that stuff is for outside Bear," you said, taking a pair of scissors to cut open the box the Christmas tree was kept in. "Can you put up the lights and decorations for outside? There's not much," you said, looking over at your husband. "Yes, ma'am," he said, giving you a kiss on your head and started to move the respective boxes outside.

Half an hour later John had the light and front yard decorated and went back inside the house. He stopped in his tracks when he saw you. You were focused on fluffing the tree and strategically placing different ornaments on the tree. The fireplace crackled, making the house smell pleasant and warm. You almost seemed to glow in the firelight and he almost lost his breath. Your hair cascaded down your back and his clothes had never looked better on someone. He couldn't believe he ended up with someone as perfect as you.

With all the death and terrible things he's sees everyday, it's hard to believe something so wholesome and wonderful ever found it's way into his life. The first few years you two had been dating he didn't believe you would actually stay. Mission after mission he expected to come back to a cold and empty house; a note on the kitchen table saying you couldn't do this anymore and you couldn't wait for him even though you reassured him you weren't going anywhere. But year after year you stayed and he still couldn't believe it. You noticed him in your peripheral and looked over at him and gave him the most wonderful smile; like he was the most important thing in your life and he didn't think he could fall further in love with you but that smile proved him wrong. "What's wrong Bear?" You asked.

"Nothing love," he said with a smile. "Do you want to help me with the tree?" You asked. "Can't think of anything I'd rather do instead," John said. He walked over and grabbed a couple ornaments to lay on a branch. "John?" "Hmm?" John hummed. "Since we don't have any plans for Christmas except with each other," you started. "Yeah?" John said, glancing over at you. "Why don't we invite the rest of your team?" You suggested. "I don't know love I like using my leave to be rid of them," He joked.

"Oh come on John!" You begged. "It's not like we don't have the space and it would be nice to have some company for the holidays," You said, securing an ornament onto a branch. "And besides, I know you joke about wanting to not be around them but I know you care about them," You added. John sighed and picked up another ornament before looking over at you. "This is something you really want?" He asked and you nodded vigorously.

"Okay then I'll get in touch with them tomorrow," he relented. John knew he could never say no to you; you truly had him wrapped around your finger. You squealed and threw your arms around his neck. "Thank you Bear!" You smiled. "You really are an amazing woman love," John said, planting a kiss on your lips. "Now let's get that star ontop of the tree," he said, giving you the star and picking you up by your waist. "I love you John Price," you said once you square on your feet. "I love you too y/n Price,"