#cod mace

[miss-vanta-likes-to-write]

Passing this along, respectfully 😌

Mace in his Apocalypse King BlackCell Skin

Base and tip, it has a hook and leans over and the tip touches the cervix.

[cod-dump]

Gaz is the boy next door, the guy to go "I'll have them home by 9". Mace is the guy to go "They call me daddy too"

[cod-dump]

I need them to add more main black characters in call of duty. We have Gaz but I need another succulent black man or women to just..

Im gay. I’m gay and I’m in need. I AM IN HEAT FOR SWEET BROWN SUGAR.

Honestly!! They have interesting POC multiplayer operators, please do something with them!! Personally I would LOVE Hutch content.

LIKE COME ON??? PRETTY FUCKING PLEASE!?!?

Also MACE.

This guy needs more attention!! LOOK AT HIM. MUSCLY MASKED MAN... HELLO!?!?

and NOVA?????? WHERE IS HER CONTENT!????

SHE'S SO PRETTY??? AND SHE'S JUST A MULTIPLAYER CHARACTER???

I would KILL for the multiplayer operators to get proper attention in games. So many interesting backgrounds and I NEED to see them IN CAMPAIGN!!

At least Marshall is here looking amazing in Black Ops

[cod-dump]

I would like to introduce you to my #1 rarepair..

GravesMace ❤️

It's basically PriceGhost but evil, do with that what you will.

"PriceGhost but evil" I'm dead that's the funniest thing I have heard today

Graves so would be into Mace. Mace gives off the vibes of basically a more evil version of Ghost, or at least more of a morally grey version. But he's a big, masked man. That's hot. Graves has no problem with his morals, he's flirting.

[miss-vanta-likes-to-write]

ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏᴡᴅʏ ʀᴜꜰꜰ ʙᴏʏᴢ

ᴍᴀᴄᴇ. ᴋʏʟᴇ. ᴇʀɪᴋ.

‿︵‿୨♡ Ｔｈｅｉｒ Ｍｉｓｓ Ｂｅｌｌｕｍ ♡୧‿︵‿

Collection

[miss-vanta-likes-to-write]

Don't mind me...just spit balling an idea

CoD and Black Panther (non super hero) cross over

I need everyone to see the vision.

Mace and his little brother in everything but blood Erik who grew up in Oakland. Stayed in the same foster homes and such and aged out together and joined the military together. They immediately start making a name for themselves, rumors about them keeping track of their kill counts via ritual scarification. They only really trust each other because that's all they have had for a long time.

Until they both meet Kyle Garrick.

It's because they were hired to work with the 141 team, and face it, the job was in the middle of Africa. They knew those terrains and gorrilla groups well and Kyle was supposed to lead up this operation but Kate wanted him to have experts in tow.

Mace does not care. He just wants the check to clear because he, unlike most guys in the profession, actually uses his money for legitimate shit. He doesn't even pick up his gun until the pay advance hits his bank account.

Erik takes a liking to Kyle. He thinks it's fun to tease the "colonized" black kid on the team as he puts it. But Erik is always the first to tell others to shut up and listen to his little brother. Yeah, he's adopted Kyle, and Kyle is floored but doesn't complain because he finally has someone to talk to about certain things.

Turns out Kyle actually likes Mace and Erik. He knows they are more radical, he understands. But he really appreciates how real they are and how they say what they mean and mean what they say. He earns their trust and when after the mission they are on comes to a close and Price dismisses them for leave, Mace asks Kyle if he wants to come back to his and Erik's home.

"It's nothing weird. Just updating the score board." Mace shrugs.

"Wait you don't do the actual marks?" Kyle blinks in astonishment.

Erik grins wolfishly, showing off his gold fangs, "Nah, nigga. Our girl does that. She's gotta light touch and steady hand." He punches Mace on the shoulder playfully, "Unless you want this heavy handed nigga to do it."

"Watch it, kid." Mace grumbles, but he isn't annoyed. He actually sounds quite fond of the teasing.

When Kyle comes back from leave after 4 weeks his team is surprised and concerned about the 6 new scars that are healing on his arm.

[miss-vanta-likes-to-write]

Would you ever write more about Kyle "Gaz" Garrick and his fwb girl? Like where she finds out he’s lying so she goes and fucks soap and gaz walks in or she just stops fucking with him all together

We should look more into fuck boy Kyle and his crazy fwb that he's leading in circles.

Previous

Pairing: K Garrick x reader and introducing my new baby daddy Mace.

You're not one for revenge fucking. But with the way the girl in the video is grinding up against your Kyle, you feel more than green with envy. Then again, he isn't really yours. He's for the streets, the pavement, and community dick as far as you're concerned. You had followed the profile 'Dawn Dish Insurgent' after figuring out it was his roommate Johnny. It was a private Instagram, and he didn't recognize you, and you were suddenly aware of how played you were.

"Fuck his boss." Your best friend told you. "You can probably get him to trick on you."

"Fuck the dude in the mask." Another friend suggested, "I bet his dick is bigger."

You wanted to, if for the sake of getting back at Kyle Garrick. But you didn't want to ruin his relationships with his friends in case you and him worked it out...fucking pathetic but you held out hope.

It was your aunt who laughed and said "Fuck someone who is better than him and make it known."

And fuck if the next guy wasn't better.

You met him at a bar while out with your friends. He introduced himself as Mace, just Mace, and that should have been your first red flag. He was tall, broad, dark, and handsome. Rugged in the way a man that is definitely bad news is. He wasn't covered in tattoos, but neat raised scars. When you traced your finger tips over them, he smiled over his glass of brown liquor and explained that they were crocodile scars.

"I have more in other places." The smile he gave you made you temporarily forget the whole point of why you were there, and that was to get your lick back.

The only lick back you ended up getting that night was Mace throwing your back out at your place. He was right. He did have the scars in other places. Across his chest, down his back, it was a fine gradient of scarred skin to smooth skin at his hips. His dick had practically impaled you and knocked the good sense from your head. Each kiss he left on your body was like being branded with fire.

And when he folded you in half, his hand gripping your neck and pressing down, he was at his worst. Whispering what had to be filth in whatever native tongue he spoke. His thumb kept your mouth open as he dropped a glob of his spit into your mouth and followed it with a kiss.

You felt possessed after that move. Your screams and cries of pleasure mixed with the chanting of his name. Ankles around his shoulder dangling uselessly as you gripped the sheets for dear life. When he finally came, he didn't pull out, he pressed his hips closer as close as possible to you.

"Ungowam ngoku." He grunted.

You didn't know what that meant, but you only nodded too tired to ask.

Kyle hadn't heard from his girl in three days. Normally, by now, she's blowing up his phone, sending messages, asking for him to carve out an hour at least to come by and fuck up her insides. He could have skinned Soap alive when he found out she had seen his Instagram and, by extension, the video of him with some girl dancing...in a not so appropriate way. It didn't matter. He would swing by her place with some flowers, and honestly, coupled with a few nice words, she'd be putty in his hands.

It takes longer than expected for the door to open after he knocks on it. When it swings open, you're standing there, in muscle tee and basketball shorts that he does not recognize. He doesn't wear muscle tees and finds them ridiculous for guys to wear them. You don't rush to hug him, pull him into a kiss despite the knowledge of him being with another woman. You lean against the door frame and stare blankly at him.

"Yes?" The way which there is no sweetness to your voice makes him wince a bit, and he knows he's probably in the dog house.

"Bae," he leans in to kiss you but is shocked when you turn your head and the kiss lands on your cheek. Oh, he really is in trouble, "I missed you."

You take in the flowers, regular run of the mill compared to what is sitting on both your vanity, living room, and kitchen table. "Did you now?" You scoff and roll your eyes so hard, it's amazing how they don't fall right out of your head.

"Yes, I did. Now, can I come in or-" He pauses dead in his sentence when the front door opens up a bit more. The anger is almost instantaneous, the heat of that and embarrassment swirling together at the sight of another man - shirtless no less - in his girl's house.

You feel absolutely smug and over the moon at how speechless Kyle suddenly is. Eyes wide as they flick between you and Mace. You fake concern in your voice, "Oh Kyle, meet Mace, my friend. He's in town for work and is just visiting." You glance at Mace with a loving smile, the kind you always give to Kyle, "Finish getting ready. When I'm done with this conversation, we can head out Sugar."

Mace keeps a very stoic face but nods his head, "Don't take too long." He gives Kyle one last look over before leaving.

"What the fuck?" Kyle hisses immediately, eyes narrowing. "What's this shit about? Why does my girl have some fuck in her house and wearing his clothes?"

"Your girl? Please, " you sigh, and there's an evil glint in your eyes when you say this, "Don't be weird about this. He's just a friend that's visiting." It's similar cadence and words that he's said to you before in the past.

There's a sick satisfaction swelling in your chest as you watch Kyle storm off. Flowers he got you tossed aside. You hope it's the same feeling inside of him that eats him alive that has bothered you non-stop.

Vanta Note: 👀 what next? Also special thanks to @umber-cinders for mentioning off handedly about the idea of Mace speaking Xhosa and a special thanks to @demothers-empty-blog for introducing me to Mace who on this blog will be called '#ego boy'

[selfsacrificialgoddess]

Graves is a whiny ex

Mace x Ghost Ft. Jealous Ex-Boyfriend Graves, who isn't taking the break-up well. Sorta nsfw? Mentions of sexual acts, but nothing explicit. Everyone's a little ooc, obvs, but nobody was around to stop me and I had fun writing it so... “DC this weekend?” Mace glared at his phone for far longer than he meant to. How the fuck is he actually asking this shit right now? The audacity of this mother fucker. “No.” The text back was short, sweet, and to the point, and shouldn’t tell Phillip exactly just how pissed he was with him right now. “Is this about the whole 141 thing? Come on honey, don’t be shitty it wasn’t personal.” Mace took a deep breath and laughed. Graves was beyond fortunate that he could hide behind a phone screen and thousands of miles in distance. 

“You fired on Ghost.” “It wasn’t personal.” “Fucking bullshit, Phil, and you know it.” “Look i didn’t kill him!! or Suds.” “Soap. And we both know you knew that.” Mace knew, after dating Phillip for two years, that the man was trying to start a fight with him, and sure enough, here Mace was– willingly taking that bait. When Graves found out Mace and Ghost were together, he did not take it well. Not even two weeks later, he pulls some bullshit… and now he’s really thinking they can just shake that off? “I didn’t kill them. they killed plenty of our boys in retaliation as far as im concerned we’re square.” “Your boys. And if Roze gets hurt because you are fuckin around, Phil istg.” “we both know shes far too smart to get killed.” “You’re not taking this break-up, well, man. It’s been a year. Drop it.” “So im feeling sentimental. Can we actually talk about this? Like grown ass men? pls” The phone started to ring with an incoming call from one Phillip Graves. Mace declined the call. “I’m not there yet.” he replied, opening his messages to a text log with one of Ghost’s burners. “Ex wants to talk. Want to go grab a drink and piss him off?” Mace locked his phone and went back to his day, Ghost rarely replied in a timely manner and as far as Mace was concerned, he and Phil were done. He was training up new recruits this week, they had to come before his personal bullshit. “You okay, sir?” A young boy asked, about the same age Mace had been when he first joined the military– bright eyed, hopeful to change, and too stupid to realise he won’t create one. “Yeah–” he said, wanting to follow up with ‘just don’t ever let your heart get tangled up with two white boys who have access to high-powered weaponry and missiles.’ but the whitest person this kid was likely to ever see would only ever be met at the end of a barrel most likely. And likely Konni.  Ghost did reply a few hours later, Mace excusing himself to read it in private. “Where?” “Name the place. I’m there.” “Frankies, 7 Saturday.” “See you then.” 

Mace focused on the rest of his week, which, thankfully, didn’t result in anyone going to medical. The recruits were actually quite impressive this rotation. He boarded up his flight, relaxing in his seat, knowing he’d be seeing Ghost on the other side of his trip. Phillip was still texting him, “Mac, honey darlin, pls talk to me. Swear it wasnt personal.” He ignored the texts, but he was distracted briefly by a photo of Phillip in nothing but a low-hanging towel standing in front of a steaming shower. He took damn good care of his body, but so did Mace, so did Ghost. So did all of them. Graves wasn’t special. In their world, everyone had a good body; you had to rely on your personality to keep someone around. Especially a good one.  The flight gave him a great excuse to turn off his phone and ignore Phillip completely for a couple of hours. Once they landed, he’d be too busy with Ghost to pay Phillip’s texts any mind. As expected, Mace looked out and found Ghost was waiting for him, and his heart sped up. Just as it had the first time he’d ever met Ghost. He had immediately admired the man; eventually, Mace realised not only did he admire Ghost, but he loved him. It took some stumbling and a couple of shitty relationships (Graves, cough, cough), but eventually his heart found where it belonged. Ghost tossed a helmet to Mace as he approached, “Been weeks and you don’t want to–” “No. And if you try, we’re not leaving this air strip until you’ve been bent over something.” “I’m looking for trouble.” “Piss off Graves first, then your ass is mine for the next 48 hours.” “Sir, yes, sir.” Mace grinned, pulling his helmet on and getting on Ghost’s motorcycle behind him, his hand grazing just a bit lower than he should and earning a snarl from Ghost. “Behave.” They left the air strip, taking a scenic route to Frankie’s Bar, Mace’s hands roaming carefully and his body pushed up as close to Ghost’s back as he could manage. He knew he was torturing the poor man, but that would make it all the better once they were in private later. Frankie’s was a quiet out of the way little dive bar that had shitty service, shitty food, and phenomenal alcohol. Thankfully, that’s all they wanted. They ordered their drinks, took the only booth in the dive that wasn’t occupied or reeked of piss or vomit, and immediately Ghost’s hand planted firmly against Mace’s thigh. “How are we pissing off Graves, again?” Ghost asked, both men wearing black face masks instead of their usual skulls or balaclavas. “Want to send him a picture of your dick in my ass?” Mace said, feeling extra petty today after the newest slew of whiny texts from Graves.  “No. I’m not opposed to the photo, I’m opposed to Graves seeing it.” “Fair.” They landed on a ‘casual’ photo of Mace winking at the camera with Ghost’s hand on Mace’s neck and thumb pressed against his lip, Ghost’s face turned away, but you could see that his tongue was dragging across Mace’s collarbone. Fortunately, nobody in the bar gave a shit about what the two men were doing and ignored their short display. Ghost’s hands and mouth lingered, but he reigned himself in and pried himself off of Mace, his hands gripping tight on his drink instead of exploring his partner’s body in public. Mace set the photo as his phone background and, as expected, about an hour into drinks, Graves sent another barrage of messages. Mace took a screenshot and sent it to Graves, “Stop blowing up my phone. Just sad, man.” With the new phone wallpaper plain to see, the real message was clear. “the fuck” Graves sent back, followed by a phone call that was denied. Then another call was declined. Another. And another. “Mac. Pick up the fucking phone.” 

Mace looked at Ghost for his opinion, he just shrugged, “Your choice. Whatever he says won’t change that you’re going home with me.” Another call. Denied. Mace wanted Phillip to sweat out a few more calls. Another. “Mac im not playing answer the fucking phone is ghost there with yu rn???” Another. The two men left the bar, the phone ringing as they walked out and stopped in front of Ghost’s motorcycle. Mace held out the phone, and Ghost answered it, “We’re busy.” “Put Mace on the phone.” “What do you want, Graves?” “Ghost.” Graves huffed, “You put him on the phone right now.” “Don’t think I will, he’s currently tied up with something else.” Ghost hung up the phone and turned it off. “He’s sufficiently pissed. Now you’re mine for the rest of the weekend.” He closed the space between them, his hands on his hips and tugged him closer, their hips pressed together. “All yours.” Mace said with a soft smile as his lips brushed against Ghost’s jaw. Ghost twisted to capture Mace’s lips with his, his arms tight on Mace’s hips and Mace’s arms draped over Ghost’s shoulders, fingers tangled in his hair. “Come on, before we show everyone our asses.”