Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Have a 30-minute sketch where I suddenly just felt like drawing a what-if Ghost crafts a personalized skull mask for Jade! The angle is all fucked because it's 30-minute, but hey! It looks pretty good actually 👁️👄👁️👍
i know a lot of us like to imagine soap as coming from a large family. either a positive and loving one he still keeps in touch with. at least two older sisters and plenty of nieces and nephews. or a more negative and tense family relationship. usually paired with a strenuous relationship with his father and a misunderstood relationship with his mother. one he rarely sees while off duty.
but the fact that price and gaz and ghost were the ones to spread his ashes in scotland makes me want to believe that john mactavish didn't actually have a family. that maybe, like ghost, his military career was all he cared for. all he needed.
until price pulled him into the 141 and he met a group of soldiers he quickly considered to be his brothers in arms.
and then his friends.
and then maybe. after months of working together. of learning the different rhythms and the ins and outs of each man.
his family.
as close to one as soap could get anyways.
and then. his steadfast little family, born from bullets and shared blood and the adrenaline that comes from saving each other's lives. is broken. shattered in that tunnel with a bullet to soap's temple. right in front of the man who first folded soap into the 141.
almost like a father figure, one could say.
and so, the fractured remains of soap's family make the trip to scotland. cradle the urn between the three of them like precious cargo. returning john mactavish to his first home and spread his ashes on the wind.
After Capt. Arjun and Sgt. Aditya's biography, here's finally of our Staff Sgt. Yuvraj Chaudhary!
GENERAL:
Name: Yuvraj
Full name: Yuvraj Chaudhary
Codename: "Kunwar"
Nicknames: Yuvi (by Aditya), Raju (by his family members), Chaudhary (by the squad), Baawlo (by Chandrika)
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Nationality: Indian
Languages spoken: Marwadi (regional language), Hindi, Gujarati, Punjabi, Marathi with other regional languages of India, English
Date of birth: August 15, 1988
Place of birth: Mewar, Rajasthan
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Marital Status: Single
Occupation: PARA SF (Parachute Special Forces) - Shatrujeet Unit, member of the Task Force 141
Status: Active
Rank: Staff Sergeant
Affiliation: 9 PARA (SF), Shatrujeet Unit, Task Force 141
Universe: Original Timeline (2011-2017), Reboot (Alternative AU)
Faceclaim: Taha Shah Badussha
Song: "Chaudhary" by Mame Khan
Biography: Yuvraj Chaudhary, who hails from a military background associated with the esteemed Rajputana Rifles regiment. Inspired by his roots and the values of service and discipline instilled in him from an early age, he aspired to serve in the Indian Armed Forces. Driven by this ambition, he took a significant step forward by joining the elite PARA SF, one of the most respected and challenging units in the Indian Army.
Special skills: Has incredible strength, and agility.
Talents: Yuvraj has been known to have a great knowledge in stealth, next to Arjun and Shaurya.
Shortcomings: Gets a bit too distracted, especially when he's with Aditya. Flaunts way too much but it doesn't harm anybody.
PERSONALITY:
Myers-Briggs Type: ENFJ (The Protagonist)
Is incredibly charming, and flirty!: One of Yuvraj's qualities is that this man is an absolute flirt, but in the most respectful ways as possible! If he's playing with his moustache, realize that he's flirting with you!
Is very conscious about his appearance: You'd see him fixing his hairstyle, even taking care of his skin and training vigorously because he's very conscious about his health and lifestyle. Usually, Yuvraj is inspired from Arjun's build and diet to which he wishes to follow the same procedure.
Is a great leader, along with the other commissoned officers: Following his duty as a Staff Sergeant, Yuvraj is known to show great leadership qualities, motivating and encouraging his squad to take down every single possible odds at any costs before going for an operation.
Is absolutely dedicated to his service: Since his generations have served in the army, his absolute dedication to serve in the army came from his ancestors, as he always takes their blessings before he goes for an important mission.
BACKGROUND STORY
Extremely loyal: Let it be country or you, he'd die to protect the very thing he loves and holds utmost pride in. Once he keeps his promise, he'll never betray anyone or anybody.
MOODBOARD:
Yuvraj was born in a small village situated in Mewar, Rajasthan where his family belonged to an army background. His ancestors, along with his great-grandfather and grandfather served in the army - via Rajputana Rifles. He grew up hearing stories about them from his father, as he always listened to them as his favorite bedtime story.
Though his father had dreamed of continuing the legacy, he had been deemed unfit to join the armed forces. The rejection was a quiet wound, but Instead he carved a different path, becoming a small businessman who ran a wheat and spice mill, a humble trade and the business was successful. Though this did confuse Yuvraj to an extent, feeling that discontinuing the legacy that his ancestors left behind would be outrageous, especially what his great-grandfather left behind.
To which, Yuvraj dedicated his whole life to prepare for the army, while also supporting his father's business. After a journey of hardwork, Yuvraj was able to allot himself in the armed forces, where his aim drew to join the PARA SF — one of the most elite forces of the Indian Army.
In Commando School, Yuvraj met Aditya, becoming close mates and later on, best friends who'd support each other, even in the hard times. After their successful selection as commandos, they went to special operations and with the appropriate tactical skills the two had, he and Aditya made themselves into the elite task force, named "Shatrujeet" with the supervision Maj. Kulshrestha and Capt. Dhingra.
listen, as much as johnny loves receiving oral, he is infatuated with giving it as well.
i beg thee for johnny head please 🙂↕️🙂↕️
say it with me now....
pussy 👏🏽 drunk 👏🏽 johnny 👏🏽
this man will go feral for you whining and keening for his mouth on your wet cunt. he'd lap your juices up like honey out of a jar- sweet, addicting.
"love this cunt, hen," he'll praise, a stark contrast between the debauching scene of him desecrating your cunt with his talented tongue.
he especially loves it when you grip his hair (and i mean GRIP). the tighter his mohawk feels against your fingers, the closer he's getting to you peaking all over him. he's the epitome of "death by snu snu."
"doon' move," he's growl into your aching cunt. "tase so good, hen." and you keep grinding your throbbing sex all over his lips and mouth.
sitting on his face is probably his favorite thing from you. he'll grip your thighs and hold you down, all the while you're wriggling, wiggling, and shimmying your way out of his vicing grip.
"c'mon lass," he'll beg, muffled by your puffy lips buried over his mouth. "please come, Christ i've been doon' well' 'avent I?"
you want to be mad, but honestly? you can't. johnny's a good mutt, licking you clean to the point your thighs shake, legs tighten, and you hunched over like a hungover drunkard.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
AN: So, I changed a bit about the reader and Ghost's backstory in Domestic Bliss, I went ahead and linked it just in case you might wanna go back and reread that to see the new lore. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy the newest installation to the Married series!
Word Count: 2,643
Main Page
“Evening.” Price said as he stepped into the lounge, giving the group of you a quick nod of acknowledgement on his way to the pot of fresh coffee that was sitting on the counter. He got scattered responses from the other four occupants of the room as he dug a chipped mug out of the cabinet and set it onto the counter before filling it all the way to the top with the bitter beverage.
He either wasn’t affected by the heat or was simply too impatient to wait for his drink to cool because he didn’t even hesitate before lifting the mug to his lips and taking a large gulp of what you were sure was scalding coffee while showing no signs of discomfort.
"I made some chicken carbonara for the boys if you wanted some, Captain." You mused with a grin, using the plate in your hand that you had just cleaned to gesture at the large pot of pasta that was currently sitting on the stove top.
You had started cooking on a whim earlier and Soap had wandered into the kitchen with Gaz, the two curious Sergeants immediately swarming you where you’d been standing at the stove and needling at you until you caved and admitted that you were making lunch and yes there was enough for them to have some as well.
Soap’s eyes lit up with delight as he leaned closer to the pot in order to get a better look and your eyes narrowed in suspicion as you watched him. You opened your mouth with the intent of thoroughly scolding the nosy Scot for practically shoving his face into the pasta you were preparing but, before you could even get a single word out, Gaz distracted you by pulling you into a one-armed hug.
“Soap–” You barked at the man, scowling at the side of Soap’s head when he ignored your warning in favor of carelessly dipping the tip of his finger into the sauce before popping the digit into his mouth, the Scot humming happily before pulling his finger out and going for seconds.
“Would you quit that? I swear you're worse than a toddler.” You snapped as you stubbornly pushed out of Gaz’s hold and aggressively grabbed Soap’s wrist in order to stop him from further contaminating the food, squeezing until you could feel the delicate bones grinding underneath your fingers and you saw Soap wince.
Guilt hit you like a boot to the gut once you noticed his discomfort and you immediately relaxed your tight grip so that your fingers were just loosely encircling his wrist before gently leading him away from the stove, insistently shooing the two troublemakers over to the table to wait until the food was done.
Ghost also found his way to the lounge at some point, the man as silent as his namesake as he approached you from behind and draped himself over your back, expertly ignoring the wolf whistles and jeering from the other two occupants in the room as he nuzzled his face into the side of your neck, pressing a soft kiss against your skin through the worn fabric of his balaclava.
“Hmm…” Price gave a thoughtful hum, the sound pulling you from your reminiscing and bringing you back to the present. “I suppose I can spare some time for grub… I’d be a fool to turn down your hospitality, Hornet.” Price gave a dry chuckle as he walked into the kitchen.
"Well there's plenty left. I made sure to make a lot because all of you are big boys." You laughed, watching Price as he sauntered over to a cupboard to retrieve a plate before moving over to the pot of bubbling pasta in order to serve himself a heaping pile.
Price nodded to himself at the compliment, the plate in his hand looking comically small in comparison to the sheer amount of carbonara that he’d managed to spoon onto it, before he walked to the table and sat down opposite Gaz, who was in the process of messily shoveling a forkful of noodles into his mouth.
"I think you’ll like it, Captain. Simon’s on his third serving already, which is practically a ringing endorsement coming from him.” You snorted, shooting a smug look at Ghost as you gracelessly flopped down into the seat next to him with your own helping of food, your lovely husband not even bothering to lift his head from his plate as he used his free hand to eloquently brandish his middle finger.
“You don’t say? I have always suspected that Simon didn’t have a sense of taste.” Price stated, slightly amused, and you could tell that he was genuinely relaxed and in a good mood, which was rare for him.
"How dare you insinuate that he only likes my cooking because he can't taste it. You better sleep with one eye open tonight, Captain." You growled playfully as you brandished your fork at where Price was sitting across from you threateningly with a faux-insulted expression plastered on your face. “Right, darling?" You demanded in true theatrical fashion as you turned to level Ghost with an expectant stare, your arms crossed.
“Sure, dove.” Ghost answered dryly, his emotionless voice giving nothing away. Though, because you’ve known him for several decades, you knew exactly what to look for in order to tell whether or not he was enjoying himself. You knew how to look past the cold facade that he put up and saw the mirth sparkling in his dark eyes, the way the corners of his mouth curled into a barely-there smile, his body language much more honest about how he was feeling.
"Ha! See? Two against one, Captain… and I don't like your odds of seeing the next sunrise." You cackled openly, a wide grin spreading across your face when Soap and Gaz joined in, the Scot letting loose a bark of laughter that quickly turned into a coughing fit when he choked on the mouthful of food he’d been in the process of chewing like an idiot.
You glanced over at Ghost when the man dutifully pushed his full glass of water to the wheezing Sergeant, your eyes narrowing in disapproval before you smacked his bicep with the back of your hand in a wordless reprimand when you caught his mouth quirking up at corners in sadistic amusement as Soap hacked up a lung, because he was an asshole like that.
“Yeah, I’m shaking in my boots.” Price replied with a little shake of his head, his sarcastic tone slightly dampened by the genuine amusement in his voice.
"As you should be." You nodded firmly, taking a quick bite of your food and chewing thoughtfully before swallowing. "Have you seen Ghost and I in the field? We are an absolute unit. Aren't we, honey?" You declared before turning your attention back to Ghost, leveling him with a shit-eating grin.
“Affirmative.” Ghost agreed easily –like the absolute ass-kisser that he was with you– and you straightened up in your seat and leaned forward in order to press a sloppy kiss to the sharp line of his jaw, the man obediently tilting his head to give you more space to work with.
“It's time to move aside, Soap, I’m taking your spot as Ghost’s favorite. I've already got him agreeing to everything I say.” You crowed good-naturedly as you pulled away from Simon and fell back into your seat, pointing at Soap with a wolfish grin.
“Yeah right. Even if ye were the favorite, it's only ‘cuz he’s biased. Ah mean, it is his ring ye got on yer finger, ye numpty.” Soap scoffed with a roll of his eyes, the Scot taking a particularly vicious stab at the food on his plate, causing the tines of his fork to scrape over the ceramic unpleasantly.
“Aw, you sound pretty bitter about that, Soap. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you have a little crush on me.” You said with a shit-eating grin, the man in question taking his sweet ass time noisily slurping up a mouthful of noodles with a grunt of effort before lazily wiping his sauce coated chin with the back of his hand like a disgusting brute.
“Nah. Yer not mah type, love.” Soap scoffed with a dismissive wave of his hand and you raised a brow at him, placing an elbow onto the tabletop and slowly leaning forward over the table separating the two of you until Soap’s eyes flicked up from his rapidly emptying plate in favor of warily eyeing you as if you were a lit fuse.
“Is that so? Well, if it's Ghost you're into then I suppose I could lend him to you for a night... if I get to watch.” You whispered teasingly as you fluttered your eyelashes, watching with sadistic glee as Soap flushed a bright red and began to defensively stutter out panicked protests.
“Tryin’ to pimp me out, are we?” Ghost huffed as he kept his eyes down, his gaze stubbornly locked onto his newly refilled plate to avoid looking at anyone as he tucked into his fourth serving. How he managed to get up, get himself more pasta, and sit back down all without you noticing, you had no idea.
“It’s your fault for being so alluring, babydoll.” You purred salaciously as you sat back into your seat properly, turning to press a firm kiss to Ghost’s broad shoulder before blinking up at him as if you were an innocent angel that could do no wrong, knowing damn well that it never failed to soften the man up.
“Keep it PG, would you?” Price demanded, sounding mildly annoyed by the turn that the conversation had taken.
“Yes sir.” You said amicably as you turned away from Ghost, who had stopped eating in order to stare at you in that intense way that told you that he was imagining things that certainly weren’t appropriate to entertain during lunch with your colleagues, giving Price a half-assed salute that no doubt had him silently begging the Lord for the patience to deal with your antics.
“So, if you're disqualified from the competition on account of being married to Ghost, then we're back to square one aren't we?” Gaz asked lifting his hat up by the bill in order to scratch at his head before dutifully resettling it into place.
“Well, Ghost an’ ah have the best correspondence on comms.” Soap offered after a moment of silence, the Scot radiating a smug air that was –in your opinion– totally unfounded as he pushed his plate aside, placing his full focus onto the debate at hand.
“You call what you two cunts do over comms professional? I’d classify it as softcore porn.” Gaz blurted out with an incredulous laugh, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek until you tasted iron in order to avoid grinning like a loon when Soap’s previously self-satisfied expression was ruthlessly wiped from his face and replaced by a petulant pout.
“It still counts as proof of our unbreakable bond–” Soap began to argue adamantly, that telltale determined glint lighting up his eyes –the one that usually only reared its ugly head when the Scot was about to disobey orders and pull something crazy– and you decided to butt in and do some damage control before Soap could get too worked up.
“Now, now, boys. Let's not get too hasty, Simon can easily settle this debate for us." You interrupted Soap mid-rant and the three of you all simultaneously turned to stare at Ghost expectantly, who was scraping up the last of the sauce and noodles from his plate with his fork. "So, Ghost, who do you like being in the field with the most?" You asked, your narrowed stare looking into his uncannily blank eyes in a searching manner.
Ghost didn’t hesitate for a moment.
“You.” He replied in a flat, matter-of-fact tone and you saw Price raise an eyebrow in your peripheral vision, Soap and Gaz looking similarly stunned by the declaration.
"Hear that, losers? I'm the unequivocal favorite." You gloated as you laced your hands together behind your head and leaned back in your chair, all but preening as you smiled triumphantly at winning a competition you weren’t even technically a candidate for, at least according to Soap and Gaz.
“We just established tha’ ye weren't even allowed tae be a fuckin’ contender. It's no’ mah fault Ghost 's a shit listener.” Soap complained as he picked up his plate, sullenly pushing away from the table and bringing his dishware to the stove in order to refill it, the aggressive way he was moving telling you all you needed to know about how he was taking the loss.
“You're just mad cause he didn't pick you.” You needled at him just to be an ass, sticking your tongue out at the Scot when he flicked you off without even bothering to turn away from the pot he was digging into with the pasta spoon.
“Don’t let it go to your head.” Price told you in a mock serious tone, his mustache twitching in a way that signaled that he was trying to suppress a smile before he continued. “Don’t want you getting an ego so large that it takes two birds to carry it.”
"Are you kidding me!? Captain, look at him!" You spluttered incredulously, flailing an arm at Ghost, who looked utterly unbothered by the chaos that his answer had stirred. "You expect my ego not to go through the roof when a big, scary, skull-obsessed tank says that I'm his favorite teammate? I’m practically untouchable."
“So much for maintaining a sense of humility.” Gaz muttered under his breath with an exasperated shake of his head.
“Don’t get too excited. You’re still insufferable, you’re just less annoying than the others.” Ghost stated before you could reply to Gaz’s comment, causing you to shut your mouth with a click as you contemplated whether or not you were going to take offense to Ghost’s apathetic correction.
"I'll take it." You said with a decisive nod, giving Soap's arm an affectionate pat when he passed by, the Scot knocking his foot into yours under the table when he sat down to let you know that there was no bad blood between the two of you and you looked down at your wrist in order to check the time on your watch on a whim, your eyes widening when you saw how late it was.
"Ah, shit. I gotta go train the new recruits on gun safety at the range." You blurted as you rounded the table, heading for the exit to the dining room and kitchen before you paused and looked back at the four men who were seated at the table in a beseeching manner.
"Could one of you guys put whatever's leftover into the fridge when you boys are done eating?" You asked, your expression hopeful as you stared at them, waiting for one of them to volunteer themselves for the task.
“Yeah. I can do it.” Price replied with a quick nod before grabbing his empty plate and pushing to his feet. He moved to the kitchen and grabbed one of the serving bowls, a small smile on his face. It was a small task, but Price seemed perfectly content with doing it.
"I really appreciate it, Price. I'll cook you a nice breakfast tomorrow as a thank you!" You promised as you walked out of the kitchen and into the hallway, giving the four men one last parting wave before starting down the corridor.
"Alright. Who's washing the dishes?" He quipped dryly as he looked at the other three that were still in the room with him and, unsurprisingly, no one seemed particularly enthusiastic about the prospect.
