#Cod x Male reader

[lambiconic]

simon hitting on the cashier at his fav coffee shop !!!

 Simon was *your* regular.

You were 99% sure Simon only visited the little café if you were on shift, that he came there just for you. Though... that seems a bit delusional.

Simon—spelled S-I-M-O-N— you always made sure to spell it correctly on his cup because in your head it mattered to him. He exclusively let you take his order, ring him up, and hand him cash.

It was the same routine; his usual grunts, his VERY intense eye contact, a $5 tip, and a gruff "thanks." Every single time you saw him.

...

"There's something wrong with the cup today."

His eyes locked on yours as he handed it over, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

You raise a brow as you investigate the cup and there on the back, in chicken scratch.. is his phone number. 

“Oh..” You had to bite back a grin, fearing he'd think you were laughing at him. “Oh, I see.. Let me make you a new one and I will just..keep this.”

You could see his chest puffing up in satisfaction as he grunted a quick “yeah.”

the others:

gaz

johnny

price

[if-you-give-a-dilf-a-danish]

Purpled Punching Bags P1 (Poly!141 x M!Reader)

A/N: Special thanks to @midoriiakina for coming up with this juicy angsty prompt, you can see their post here for more info about the Soulmate AU. This should be a two-parter. Contents: Skin writing and Pain-Sharing Soulmate AU, Poly!141, Hurt/Comfort, Reader uses he/him pronouns. “M/N” and “M/N L/N” are used a couple times only because it would sound clunky otherwise. POV is John Price-heavy, whoopsies TW: Major Injury to Reader W/C: ~1200 words. ═════════════════════════ It felt like a body slam to all of them. 

John was washing dishes, a ceramic bowl being scrubbed out when he felt himself keel over, the bowl dropping and shattering on the floor. His first fear was Johnny. He heard him yell the loudest in the shower when the pain started, John assumed he slipped and fell. The pain radiates across the left half of his ribcage, and then a splitting headache came afterward. The right side of his back burns now on top of it. Struggling to his feet, he groans out.

“H-Hey! Someone check on Johnny, I think he fell in the shower!” Price calls, getting back on his feet. “I’m on it!” Kyle yells, getting up off the couch (a much better place to be than standing for this) and running to the bathroom to check on him.

John hurries to the bedroom to check on Simon, who was asleep when the pain started. Now woken up, his eyes meet John’s when he enters. “Hey… Love, you alright?” John leans against the door frame, the pain had gone dull but still embedded deep inside.

“Fuck, what ‘appened?” Simon slowly crawled out of their shared bed, holding his side.

“Think Johnny slipped in the shower.” “N-No, I-I’m fine. Did not slip.” Kyle and Johnny appeared next to Price, the Scot dripping wet and only wearing a towel. They could all see the bright red patch on his side, from the pectoral muscle down to his waist. John didn’t have to raise his own shirt to see that they match.

“You didn’t?” Simon asked, confused. “No, no, I thought you fell outta bed or somethin’, was tryin’ to hurry up in there so i could check.” Johnny explained, confused. “Got a nasty scrape too, but I don't know...” He trails off, until it all hits them together. Kyle was the first one to speak it into existence. “Y-You don’t think--” John shoved them all aside, barking a loud “MOVE!” when he ran to the kitchen. Grabbing a toothpick, he immediately starts scratching into his forearm, hoping that it gets picked up by someone. When the other three feel it is when they catch on, they scramble to get their own utensils. 

Kyle follows soon after, grabbing a small paring knife to write into the other forearm. He drags the knife carefully to avoid nicking himself. But even in his panic, strokes still poke deeper than intended. Johnny uses a mechanical pencil, the lead retracted as he gets to work on his shin, leg hair making it hard to see his writing. Simon opts for a Phillips-head screwdriver, shirt raised and hunched over himself as he scrawls over his solar plexus, the fear that if chest compressions were performed, it would be the most noticeable. It was a perfect game of telephone, copying John’s text and writing it on their own parts, hoping to be seen. It took an hour of writing his name and home phone number, John yelling twice to rotate limbs so no one aches from it. “The pain’s gone!” Simon yelled out, and the others felt it too. That fifth connection went dead. “What do we do??” Kyle called back, his scratching on the shin paused. “Don’t fucking stop!!” John spat, his heart cracking when the throb in his head, back, and side stopped. “That’s an order!! We keep going until they call us!!!” He refuses to believe it. “Yes sir!” They respond, the whole house loud with it. The call did come not long after that. John called for everyone to come when his phone rang. “Hello?” The brave front he puts on is a thin one. “Hi, this is Cindy from the Mercy Medical Arts Complex, I’m calling to reach John Price?” The voice on speaker was way too sweet and soft to come from a hospital. She’s probably made these calls before. “Y-Yes. How can I help you?” His nervousness is through the roof. Johnny, Simon, and Kyle huddle around him, sticking close in a gesture of comfort. “I’m calling because your name and number were found on multiple locations of one M/N L/N’s body, indicative of a tethered partner. I assume you are his, right?” Your name soothes something in all of them despite only being just that. Another lad in their fold, another link in their little network. “Yeah… That’s right. I’m his. Is he okay? What happened to him??” That giddiness starts to wash away against the desperation. “Mr. L/N was the victim of a pedestrian collision with a vehicle. He is currently in surgery being stabilized, and I apologize for any panic when the link has faded, it’s a side effect of the anesthesia he was administered. Are you able to stop by?” She asks, never once faltering in her voice.

The four were relieved when she said it was only anesthesia. But you weren’t out of the woods yet. Looking at his boyfriends, John gets the soft looks returned to him. You weren’t dead. But you were still alone. And you don’t have to be, anymore.

“Hello?” Cindy asks. “Oh-- Uh, yeah. I’ll be there as soon as I can. May I have the address?” John stutters, facing the phone again. The other three take that as their cue to get ready. Johnny dries off and throws on clothes, Simon gets a face covering and his jacket, and Kyle starts the car. After Cindy gives the information and the call ends, John is lost in a mix of emotions. How long had the bond been established? How long had you known, and yet you never came? If today hadn’t happened, would you have even notified them somehow anyway? When Johnny comes in, he pulls the drain plug in the sink. Seeing John, he frowns, knowing that man is lost in himself. Coming up to his side, he hugs him. “C’mon now. He needs us.” The Scot rumbles in his ear, a quick peck on the lips.  “Did he?” John whispers back. “How long did we… have his bond…?”

Johnny shrugs. “Don’t know. Things change. Maybe his old one decayed. Died. But it shouldn’t matter to us.”

“This late in life, it’s a second chance.” Kyle walks into the kitchen behind the pair. Moving in front of them, he takes John’s head in his warm hands. “And he deserves that, even if he was a stranger to us before today. Before… whenever that connection had been made.” Running his fingers in John’s hair, it helps relax the both of them.

“We owe him one anyway.” Simon rumbles, the last one to enter. Pulling off Kyle’s fingers, (to both of their disappointments), he stretches the beanie over his hair, putting it on him. “Imagine how long he’d have to sustain every injury we’ve had on the field.”

The room grew tense after he said that, guilt and shock coloring everyone’s faces.

“Great job, Si.” Johnny grumbles, flicking his ear.

“Ow-- hey, i didn’t mean it like that!” Simon tries to defend, face pinkening when he realizes his mistake.

“Then how did you mean to say it?” Kyle retorted, “Obviously--”

“Okay…” John sighs, nipping their little quarrel in the bud. “We have to go. M/N’s waiting for us.”

[slasherslittlesimp]

Traitor (TF 141 X M!Reader)- Part Two

The members of 141 rush down the halls of the military hospital after finally being cleared to see you after hours of impatiently waiting.

However, just as they round the corner to your room, an alarm seems to go off. Nurses and doctors alike rush into your room, a faint shout of ‘he’s coding!’ being all they hear before the door slams shut.

The three of them immediately freeze in alarm.

They were told you were stable. Asleep, but stable.

But now you’re dying just feet away from them and there’s nothing they can do.

“What’s going on?” Gaz’s voice snaps their attention away from the closed door of your room. He’s just returned from a solo mission, having been informed by Laswell where the rest of the squad was. Poor Gaz is completely clueless as to what’s been going on while he’s been away.

And the others members of 141 hadn’t even thought of what would happen when he returned.

At first they figured they’d just explain that you turned out to be a traitor. But then it turned out you weren’t, and they tortured you for nothing. And now you’re in the other room, dying or already dead. And not once did they think about Gaz or what to tell him until this moment.

Gaz’s eyes quickly scan over the three men, taking note of who is missing. “Where is he? Is he okay?”

The others don’t even get the chance to answer when the door to your room flies open. Your bed is rolled out of the room, voices shouting, frantic hands guiding it down the hall, a nurse straddling your waist as she does chest compressions in attempts to keep you alive long enough to make it to emergency surgery.

Gaz watches the scene with wide eyes, barely able to make out your form between the bodies surrounding you as you’re taken away. He almost doesn’t see the flash of your unconscious and bloodied face, but he does, and the image instantly burns into his mind.

“What…” His words trail off as he takes notice of the looks on his teammates faces. Price, his usually stern and professional captain looks to be on the verge of breaking down. Ghost, the lieutenant that doesn’t often show his face or emotion, has regret shining in his eyes. And Soap? He’s already falling apart, openly sobbing as he leans his back against the wall before sliding down to the floor, holding his head in his hands as he rocks back and forth.

Gaz remains silent, taking in their individual reactions. He knows they hadn’t gone on a mission- they would’ve informed him if they had. And you certainly hadn’t gone on one solo. And being on 141 instantly makes other soldiers respect and fear you, meaning nobody would’ve been brave enough to harm you for any reason- not that he can picture anybody actually hating you. Not with how bright and friendly you are.

As he slowly comes to a single conclusion, his jaw sets in a tight clench, barely allowing his next question to slip out. “What did you do to him?”

Price immediately grimaces at the question, and Soap’s cries become a bit louder as he folds in on himself even further. Ghost simply stiffens, muscles pulling tight as if afraid to make any movements.

Gaz knows his conclusion was correct without them verbally confirming it.

Price runs a hand over his mouth, taking a deep breath before speaking, trying not to allow his voice to waver. “We should talk somewhere private.”

The four men pile into an empty room, Ghost having to physically drag Soap off of the floor to get him to go with them. As the door clicks shut behind them all, Gaz crosses his arms over his chest as he stares down his captain. A man he respected and trusted, but now he’s unsure whether or not he’s worthy of those feelings.

Price sits down on a chair in the corner of the room, leaning his arms against his legs. He knows this conversation will be tough, and if he isn’t sitting he’ll likely collapse in shame. Closing his eyes, he gathers his thoughts before beginning to explain. “A little over two weeks ago we were informed that he was a traitor- that he had been giving info to enemies. We should’ve questioned it…. Should’ve investigated to see how true the claims were. Instead we just jumped straight into interrogating him. We felt betrayed, and we wanted answers. For two weeks we tortured him in attempts to get answers.”

Price pauses, images of your kneeling form drenched in blood flashing through his mind. He shakes his head in attempts to force the images away before continuing. “After two weeks, it was finally revealed that he was innocent. That he was set up by someone else. He never did any of the things we accused him of.” His hands clench together, knuckles turning white as he grits out his next sentence. “We should’ve believed him when he said he was innocent.”

Gaz stares at his captain, unsure of what to even say. On one hand, he understands why they did it. They believed you had betrayed the 141, and they felt angered and upset by that, resorting to taking it out on you. On the other, they should’ve questioned things more. You’ve been a part of the squad for years fighting and laughing alongside them. Always having their backs and being there when they needed you. Why would you have chosen now to betray them? After being with them for so many years? The others should’ve pushed their feelings aside and thought it through more instead of jumping straight into torturing you.

His gaze sweeps over the others, taking in their looks of regret and despair. Good, he thinks, let them feel bad for what they did to you.

Without saying a word, he turns and leaves the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

[guppybibi]

thinking about johnny who just like–loses a part of himself after he got shot in the head, yes because he totally survived that. i don't know how to describe it, and neither does he.

he just spends a lot of his time disassociating, it creeps you out honestly. oftentimes you find him staring at the wall, the ceiling, and you. he doesn't speak as much as he used to as well, so you're still growing used to the silence.

then one day, johnny just goes missing. he's nowhere to be found, so you go out to try and find him hopefully. along the way, passing by the flower shop you coincidentally meet simon who was just getting out of the shop, a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

with your voice still shaky, you ask him if he has seen johnny at all today. and to your surprise he replies with "what do you mean, luv? it's johnny's death anniversary today?"

...who the fuck was in your house..for practically a whole year?

[ryanisasleep]

What abt a male reader who has animalistic traits (speaking from experience)

- A male reader who bares teeth to people all the time,

- A reader who has to contain himself from panting with his tongue out after a long and hard run

- a reader who salivates at the thought of eating meat, doesn't matter the kind

- A reader who loves his S.O and makes happy chirpy noises when they are together

- A reader who buts his head at his S.O's shoulder

- A reader who loves to chew on things, not a bone but maybe a breadstick, the eat like a dog

- A male reader who, if he had a tail, would wag it happily when his S.O came back

- A reader who is very expressive with his face

- A reader who has sharp canines and uses them mostly to rip away a piece of bread like it's a piece of a prey

But nontheless...

A reader who loves his boyfriend, he truly does and would do anything for them.

A reader who makes a nest in his bed with the clothes or belongings of his boyfriend and just sits there like a cat, turns around and shows his tummy like a cat just to fall asleep like that.

A reader whose love language is biting and slightly pulling. Maybe they gently bite his boyfriend finger and slightly pulls it like a tug of war game but the meaning behind it is "hug me, I love you".

Or just loves to play fight using the lion style often embracing his boyfriend and pushing him down, using his nails as claws and biting down on the shoulder while they slightly growl and bite down without force. He just wants to play fight come on.

[skyrigel]

Let me introduce retired!Simon whose life has become cluelessly empty. Morning to dusk he is fixing cabinets, painting fences, oiling cables of his motorbike.

He's seriously so purposeless until, well ofcourse until you move in to the house opposite his, and the first thing you do is crash your trailer into his fence.

“I am literally so sorry ! So, so sorry —” You profusely apologise. Hands on your hip and gaze warmer than the sun.

Simon stands there transfixed, he should say something, he should be angry, he should literally brood, that stuff was painted twice just yesterday. But all he does is watch you get into your car again with a determined streak to turn the trailer.

One, two and — SMASH.

Once again over the fence until it could no longer be distinguished as a fence. Flowerbed mashed all together. Again, you get out of the door, engine dying all over with key gripped in your trembling hands, biting down your lips and head shaking profusely; like you could really use a knuckle knock over your head.

“Da keys,” He grumbles out. His whole heart exploding with the way you looked at him with hope in your eyes.

He has never been more in love.

Masterlist

[rawme-price]

Price who is constantly talking abt his beloved "wifey" and "the missus" but never actually let's anyone meet the special gal, right?

Like, he appears totally lovestruck to the normal observer, constantly bringing up his wife in conversation with a dopey grin. He wears his wedding band obsessively when not on ops, fiddles with it while he smokes. The guys are desperate to meet her, but know better than to push the subject.

This does not, however, stop them from snooping. Gaz hears muffled voices from prices office and a very distinct groan that has his cheeks heating for a moment. Still, if theres a chance to meet this wife he *will* linger even if he has to hear what price sounds like when making out (hot). But, the more gaz listens, the more concerned he becomes. He swears he can hear price and another masculine voice, one that actually sounds alot like you.

You, as in the very much married civilian contractor that works alongside with 141. Suddenly gazs little stakeout becomes serious. Its bad enough price is cheating on his wife, but with someone he has authority over? Its enough for gaz to lose respect for the man.

Gaz sees u walk out of prices room, casually adjusting the sleeves of ur button up. He doesnt confront you, but he does confide in soap abt it. And if soap knows then ghost knows, and suddenly ur favourite soldiers are being assholes to you? They only talk to you when completely necessary, and only the bare minimum. Never smiling or joking like before.

Price gets a similar treatment, though the thin veil of respect stays up. It gets to a point where u ask the captain wtf is wrong with them that he decides this needs to be a meeting. So he calls them all together, expects to chew them out a bit, and is completely baffled when they call scold him instead.

They go on and on abt how disrespectful and manipulative it is to be fucking the secretary when hes got a wife at home, and suddenly its *you* bursting out laughing. "Oh my god! That's what all this is about?" Ghost seems about ready to fight you, so you explain. "I am his wife! Well, Husband. But John calls me wifey as a little inside joke."

Suddenly the guys cant meet ur eyes, mumbling embarrassed apologies under prices glare while u just smile, happy they stood up for u even if they were thinking of prices wife lol.

[ace-inthehole]

Soap has an oral fixation.

Not nsfw, mildly suggestive at most.

He's just about always chewing gum, and when he isn't doing that he's gnawing on his nails and cuticles. You buy him a pack of lollipops, half expecting him to never touch them, but suddenly the gum is gone and he's going around base with lollies in his pockets.

LOVES kissing you, absolutely adores it. The feel of your mouth against his, your lips, your tongue, everything is warm and he loves it. Finds every excuse to make out with you, and you indulge him, because how could you not?

His kisses are ravenous and desperate, hands always gripping onto you to pull you closer, deeper. You're always both panting by the time he pulls away, and he doesn't let either of you catch your breaths before diving back in.

When he drinks out of a straw, it's always chewed up and bitten to hell. He's real upset about stores switching to paper straws as opposed to plastic. He can't chew on those, they disintegrate! He chews on other shit too, pens, styrofoam cups, plastic spoons and forks, just about anything vaguely malleable and small enough to fit in his mouth. Everyone on base is sick of using chewed up pens.

You're worried about his teeth, so you buy him one of those chew necklaces. It helps a lot, and he's obsessed with the thing. He slowly stops destroying every pen he gets his hands on, and his nails no longer get bitten until they bleed. You buy him a whole assortment of them, different shapes, colours, and firmness. He loves every single one, but the first one you gave him was always his favorite. It's mangled past recognition at this point, but he still wears it around under his shirt constantly.

Of course, he still prefers you. Sometimes when you cuddle, he's absentmindedly sucking hickies into your neck, enjoying the sensation of your skin in his mouth and between his teeth. When you scold him for leaving visible marks, he grabs ahold of your hands and start nibbling on them like he's a pup. It's endearing, if not a little gross. You let him do it either way, because he always looks so content in your arms munching away on your fingers. You can just wash your hands after, no biggie.

-

I only post like twice a year but couldn't miss pride month, so have some soap.

[princeguri66]

Back on my affectionate reader bullshit because I just want to smother those assholes with love.

TF 141 x Male! Reader

Kissing the homies goodnight.

18+ Minors DNI!

Cw: whole lotta fluff, it only gets suggestive at the end and that's it

It started with a joke. Gaz drunkenly saying "Hey, if I win will you give me a goodnight kiss?" Before you start a game of cards, you all laughed it off then. Until it starts getting later in the evening and when you excuse yourself to go to bed Soap calls out to you with a chuckle, "Ey, don't forget about Gaz's kiss" you trudge your way back to them eyes drooping. They all expect you to kick Soap or something akin to that, but you surprise them by leaning down and placing a kiss on Gaz's eyebrow before tiredly muttering a "goodnight" and walking away.

And if that didn't give them any ideas..

For the next week it was usually Soap and Gaz pestering you about your kisses being rewards.

"If I shoot all the targets will you give me a kiss?"

"If I beat him in this fight will you give me a kiss?"

It gives them such a boost of energy.

You don't expect anyone else other than them to ask you for one until you're watching a game on the telly with Ghost. "If my team wins, I want a reward like them" He says to you, referencing Soap and Gaz and you nod albeit a bit shocked.

And by a stroke of luck his team wins, you reward him with a kiss to his temple.

And when it comes to Price.. 

It occurred after a tough but successful mission, and it was all thanks to you. What you had to handle was rough but you still came back with minimal injuries.

After a quick check up and shower you head to the common room on base to lounge with your team, but when you just stepped in the area Price got himself up from the couch claiming he needs to get back to work. 

As he passed you he said a quick "Good job out there lad." And held you by your shoulder to pull you close and kiss you right on your cheek before walking away leaving you stunned.

The team saw it all of course, sitting still a bit stunned as well, seemed like your habit of kissing your homies rubbed off on the captain.

You were too focused on the lingering feeling of Price's beard scratching your face that you didn't hear Soap saying how that it's so unfair, how he also had a successful mission but didn't get a kiss from their dear captain, only realizing you've been standing there like an idiot this whole time when Soap ran past you trying to catch up with the captain to claim his well deserved prize.

And it just evolves from there, everyone gives each other kisses. 

It started off as conglatutory kisses like before, then it'll go to "kiss it better" kisses

(Like if Ghost trained so hard he gets bloody knuckles Price will kiss them better, or if Soap suffered an injury Gaz would be there to kiss his bandages, or if Gaz just had a rough day and is incredibly stressed you'd kiss his temple)

Then eventually everytime any of you are about to leave for a mission you all give a kiss to whoever's going for good luck, and when they come back it's those pushing mouth aggressively to cheek kisses happy that they came back alive and well.

And it goes to the point where any chance you get you'll exchange small kisses. Passing each other in the hall way? A kiss to the cheek. Finding each other in the kitchen late at night to grab a drink? A kiss on the forehead. One of you had a brutal nightmare? Boom, get kissed on your damn head, hell why not cuddle while you're at it? (You did cuddle while you're at it)

It doesn't take long for the kisses to trail closer to the lips, for the kisses to trail to your neck and collarbones as well. It doesn't take long for it to evolve from small pecks to heated make out sessions, desperate to feel each other's mouths even deeper. It doesn't take long for the five of you to end up swapping spit late at night, sloppily making out with whoever's mouth is open and wanting, stripping each other's clothes even with your mouth occupied.

After that it's no question to kiss the homies goodnight, hell it usually ends with more than a kiss.

[rodolfoparras]

18+ MDNI 18+

Thinking about having a good ol dick measuring contest with your very much straight friend, having him claim “it’s not a big deal every guy does it “ while having his ears burn, and fingers shake as he whips out his dick for you, hearing him uttering a choked fuck as your dicks stand side by side, and you can’t help but mindlessly comment on how much smaller he is while you’re shamelessly gauging his dick, not even noticing how weak he gets at the knees with each word that escapes your lips, even more so when you daringly cup his small cock, even going as far as to teasingly flick his tip

“what do you plan on doing with that eh?” You say with a small laugh, sounding as if you couldn’t ever imagine him using his dick. “Bet the girls don’t even cum when you fuck them,”

Instead of feeling hurt he can’t help but be turned on by your words and for a brief moment he thinks he’s gone insane because what straight man gets turned on by another man scrutinizing his dick “don’t - ah don’t say that, man, you don’t know shit ”

Between the exchange of words your hand finds its way to his balls and gently fondles them “no I’m being serious, can’t imagine a girl finishing like this, are you even hard hm?” you say sounding oblivious as ever as if he’s not standing there with his eyes squeezed shut, weeping at the tip, cock throbbing and ready to burst from just a little caressing.

Before he can utter a response you slap your dick over his, causing the other man to jerk in place as a loud gasps escapes his lips. “Hah fuck!”

“Christ look at this, can’t even see it no more,” You say, through a breathy laugh, gaze locked on the space between your bodies.

Upon looking down he’s met with the sight of your cock completely engulfing his, can feel the warmth of your skin seeping into him, even feels you weighting him down and if he wasn’t about to pass about from that alone he sure will when you start stroking your dicks”Hey, hey - what ah - what are you doing?”

“Come on it’s not a big deal, all guys do it,” you drawl out as you set a steady pace with your hand “I’ll even make you cum I promise,besides I don’t think it’ll be much of a challenge”

[gofishygo]

ok guys but hear me out..,

back before simon was drafted and he was still working in some butcher around the outskirts of manchester, he remembers a little bakery a few blocks down from his shop. although never particularly crowded, he's noticed the older locals go by in the mornings for coffee, kids guided in by their parents after schools to get a snack. but he doesn't seem to lounge in the corner of that cafe for either of those reasons- instead, he finds himself fawning over the pretty baker.

and you're nice to him, too- always smiling when you see him around, voice so sweet when you're at the butchers to buy some meat for the pies, sneakily trying to slip him a discount whenever he goes to buy a sandwich- 'hospitality workers gotta stick together, right?' it's no wonder that he finds himself falling for you, a stupid puppy crush that he tries, and occasionally fails, to suppress. and sometimes, simon lets himself believe you like him too, with the way the blood rushes to your cheeks when you spot him across the shelves, with he notes how you nearly fumble a frothing pot of milk when caught staring at him. it's a little attempt of young love that he thinks will be smothered out as he gets older.

but now it is twenty years later, he is working with the sas, and he is meant to be dead. but simon finds himself strolling his hometown, genuinely surprised that he sees the cafe still up, that he sees you, still working behind the display cabinets. you're older now, more mature, but your smile is just as pretty as it was those years ago. and he sees that glimmer of recognition in your eyes, how your head perks up at the sight of his figure outside of the window.

ghost smothers his cigarette and bins it before walking through the doors. may as well pay the bird a visit.

[slasherslittlesimp]

The Perfect Soldier (TF 141 X M!WinterSoldier!Reader)

The mission had been a grand success. 141 completed it with surprising ease, getting away with minimal injuries, though still quite exhausted from the many days spent away from home.

They’re on their way back to base now, driving a civilian vehicle through the city. Gaz is at the wheel, Price in the passenger seat while Ghost and Soap share the backseat, brood shoulders pushed together. Soap, despite being extremely tired, blathers away about random things, shifting every now and then in his excitement, pushing further into Ghost who grunts quietly in faux annoyance.

It’s as they’re driving under an overpass that the nice, tired haze that comes after a successful mission is torn away. A loud ‘thump!’ landing on the roof of the car, indenting it slightly under the weight of whatever landed there. Immediately, the men within the vehicle tense up, alert as they scan the area, watching the dent on the roof to see if it moves.

The tense moment is broken the second a startled scream tears from Gaz’s throat. A metal arm smashes through the windshield, grabbing the steering wheel and quite literally ripping it from his hands. Despite the panic of no longer having a steering wheel, Gaz manages to think enough to slam the brakes, sending the mysterious figure flying.

The four men watch in shock as the figure slides backward with each, their metal hand digging into the concrete to keep them from going any further. The second they’re stilled they stand up, staring down the car. Ghost immediately pulls out his gun, aiming it towards the stranger only to drop it the second another vehicle rams into the back of theirs, pushing it down the highway.

Unable to control the car, it hits the barrier before swerving, beginning to flip. Price immediately grabs Gaz while Ghost grabs Soap, both of them slamming as hard as possible into the already damaged doors. The doors surprisingly pop off, allowing them to safely yet painfully hit the ground while the car flips away before catching fire.

They scramble to their feet only to duck as the people from the other vehicle open fire on them. The man with the metal arm is handed a grenade launcher, immediately popping grenades at them. A particularly close explosion sends Ghost over the edge of the overpass and down onto the roof of a passing bus which immediately swerves, flipping onto its side.

The metal armed man focuses on Gaz next, blowing up two different vehicles in pursuit of him before finally sending him over the edge as well. He manages to land in a roll, softening the landing just enough to avoid serious injury.

Above, the stranger swaps out the grenade launcher with one of the guns provided by the others, moving to the opposite side of the road to look down in search of Gaz or the others. Just as his aim pivots towards the tilted bus, gunshots pop off below him, forcing him backwards where he collapses against the barrier. He sits there, dazed for a second before pulling off his cracked goggles with an angered huff.

Gaz, the one who shot him, takes off running down the street as the metal armed man pops back up, immediately firing after him. His shots miss their mark as Gaz ducks and dives behind vehicles. He speaks a few words to his comrades, sending them off as he jumps over the edge of the overpass, landing on an already destroyed car. He simply walks off of it, starting his pursuit of Gaz.

Gaz sprints as fast as he can despite his limp from jumping off the bridge, shouting at civvies to get out of the way. Just as he goes to pass another vehicle, he takes a sudden shot to his left shoulder, sending him stumbling. He collapses against the vehicle, holding his shoulder as he glances around before spotting sight of the stranger atop another vehicle, gun already raised.

Thankfully, before he can open fire on Gaz again, Ghost appears. He rushes up to the assailant, holding something heavy and metal, using it to block a surprisingly forceful punch by the metal arm. The assailant is undeterred as he simply pushes the object aside before slamming his foot into Ghost’s chest, sending him flying off of the vehicle and onto the ground.

Ghost doesn’t hesitate the second he sees the man reloading. He jumps over the vehicle, kicking the gun out of his hand, forcing him into a fist fight. Ghost hits the man with a right hook before trying to slam his metal covering into him, only for the man to catch it with his metal arm. The man’s nonmetal arms slams into Ghost’s jaw before both hands grab the covering, twisting it and forcing Ghost to flip over.

He loses the covering as the man takes it. Knowing he has no choice but to keep fighting without it, he sprints forward, barely managing to dodge as the covering is thrown at a rapid speed towards him, embedding into the back of a van. The man pulls out a knife as Ghost approaches, forcing him to go on the defensive. He tries his best to block every attack, pushing and hitting the man’s arms despite his impressive speed.

Ghost manages to land a good hit on him, causing him to stumble allowing him the time to slam his foot into his chest, sending him backwards into the side of a van. Ghost immediately takes the opening, flying up and slamming his knee into the man’s chest. Unfortunately, the man recovers insanely fast.

He blocks Ghost’s next punch with ease, but Ghost manages to grab him by the arm, flipping him over his shoulder and onto the ground. The man gets up just as fast, his metal hand clenching Ghost’s throat with intense force- as if trying to simply crush it in his fist. He pulls Ghost closer before throwing him backwards with unexpected ease, throwing him over a nearby vehicle.

Price interferes at this point, having finally caught up to everyone after clearing out civvies. The captain goes to throw a punch only to immediately be tossed into the side of the van. The man holds his knife up, trying to drive it into Price who tries desperately to fight back against the man’s strength only for his arms to give out. He barely manages to duck to the side, allowing the knife to stab into the siding of the van instead.

The second he sees an opening, Price wraps his arms around the man’s middle, falling backwards as he suplex’s him. While the man is getting off the ground, he spots the metal covering Ghost was using earlier, prying it out of the back of the van. He uses it like a shield, blocking the next attack. He takes one punch to the face but stays steady.

He raises the shield, pushing it into the man’s bicep to keep from being hit by the metal arm. Quickly dipping the shield beneath the arm, he slams it up onto the man’s face before spinning around, reaching back to grab him right beneath the chin before flinging forward with all his strength, throwing the man over his shoulder.

The man rolls onto his feet as his mask clinks against the ground, only pausing for a second before turning around to glare down Price.

Price stares back at him as he breathes heavily. The second he sees the entirety of the man’s face though, he freezes in shock, a call sign falling from his lips before he can stop it. “Wolf?”

“Who the hell is Wolf?” His old teammate questions before pulling out a pistol. Just before he pulls the trigger, he’s kicked to the side by Soap. He doesn’t get the chance to try shooting Price again as Gaz launches a grenade at him, blowing up a nearby truck. When Price looks back at where his old teammate was standing, he’s met with nothing but the smoke and flames coming from the truck.

You’re long gone, almost as you were never even there in the first place.

[arabellasfvv]

When you blow johnny and just keep gagging and choking he'll most likely laugh at you. But because you don't just let things slide–that man needs to be put in his place anyway–you pull out one of your dildos, and tell him to suck it. He laughs incredulously at first, though not totally opposedto the idea. But once he saw the expression on your face he knows you're serious. And he was never one to turn down a challenge.

Safe to say he's gagging like a bitch. Can barely take half the thing without tears stinging at his eyes. And if you're mean you tell him, "well, that's pathetic, baby." In a mocking tone. (lt makes his cock twitch dw) and if you're even meaner you decide to 'help out'. Forcing the toy down his throat with your hand. Do it over and over. Like he does when fucking your throat without consideration. He's a mess by the end, sweaty, eyes red with tears flowing from them, drooled all over the toy, down on himself like some mutt. But some time during it he came without even being touched.

He doesn't make fun of you again.

[pastelclovds]

cw: cuckholding, anal sex, blasphemy (?), religious guilt, implied threesome at the end, infidelity, monsterfucking, and creampie word count: 447 authors note: middle age “couple” supremacy 🛐

thinking about fallen-angel!reader catching an old, sexually repressed priest fisting his cock to a porn magazine. oh, but not just any porn magazine, a GAY porn magazine. upon being caught, reader taunts the priest by asking him why he isn’t with his darling wife to help deal with his “little problem.” to this, the priest just breaks down in tears and confesses how he’s been trying to suppress his sinful desires for decades, and he believed marrying a woman would fix him.

only for it to be for nothing. no matter how many times he makes love to her, he doesn’t actually feel loved nor satisfied. he’s hid his carnivorous needs for the sake of his reputation and the love for his god. but now he’s just too pent up, he needs relief, he needs you.

how could you reject a pathetic, pleading, middle aged man?

time skip to his wife walking into their bedroom, looking absolutely mortified to see an entity of unknown, cosmic origin pounding into her husband in a brutal pace as he lets out moans and pleas to “give him more”. their marriage bed creaks as you bend him into a mating press, and he sobs as he feels your cock reach deeper inside his tight, virgin hole. his hairy legs twitch from their place beneath your palms.

his wife’s heart thumbs in her chest as she eyes your thick member enter her husband’s hole in a wet plap. your dick was huge compared to her husband’s. whenever they had sex, his tiny cock didn’t make her see the gates of heaven like she wanted to. she was left wanting more. craving more.

she doesn’t pay attention to her husband anymore while he was begging for her to forgive him. he lets out a pathetic whine as his orgasm paints his chunky belly white. you give one final thrust to the hilt as you came inside him, he sighed softly as your warmth made his dick twitch again.

but before he could beg for more, you were pulled off of him with your wing. you let out a threatening growl until you stopped due to shock at the sight of the priest’s wife looking up at you with lustrous eyes and her slightly plump, naked body. you were tempted to grab hold of her round breasts. she shook as she grinded her wet pussy against your leg, she licked her lips with hunger as her manicured fingers slowly stroked your rock hard cock.

then without any warning, she rises up until the tip of your dick was just kissing her entrance, and pleaded with you to make her see the light.

[realfullnameunavailable]

hear me out. fluff, sfw

König, who had finally let you be the big spoon in bed after you begged him for days upon days until he surrendered to your desires. Now, you were lying with your arms wrapped around his and a leg draped over his hip, your chin resting on his head. You whisper sweet nothings while caressing his arm, a satisfied grin on your face.

He's speechless, lying as still as possible, not moving. His cheeks burn from the sweet words and delicate touches, thinking about how he ended up in this situation and how to make it happen again without asking.

He reaches out to grab your hand, bringing it to his front and holding you even closer. The feeling of your chest rising and falling made him feel warm and tingly inside. The warmth of your body radiating onto his made his heart thump against his sternum, feeling vulnerable but in a good way. He felt safe under the weight of your body with a desire of your delicate touch.

He would never have guessed that he'd like something like this - like someone hovering over his body with their limbs wrapped around him, but he did and he liked it a lot.

English is not my first language, so I apologize for any grammar mistakes I may have made!

[undercoveravenger]

Room in The Den

Pairing: Hybrid!141 x Male!Reader

A/N: Intended as an early-stages poly relationship, but could also be interpreted as platonic.

Part 2 -> Click here

-----

It’s a bullshit new law that does it. Some asshole lawmakers deciding that just because there’s some small fraction of animal DNA in them that they can’t do their jobs right without “an actual person” watching over them that gets you assigned to the 141.

Sure, joining a team that elite is an honor, but it’s something you’d have wanted by your own merits, not just because someone who’d never seen real combat in their lives thought your new colleagues needed someone fully human to reel them in. 

You’ve seen their numbers - they don’t need you and you’re sure as hell they don’t want you encroaching on the bond that their experiences have fostered between them. That’s why you come in expecting the animosity. 

You were right. Captain Price is cordial enough, he shakes your hand without crushing it and says he’s eager to work with you but his smile doesn’t meet his eyes and the terseness in his voice tells you he’s just saying it to be polite. He’s run this task force long enough to know how to do his job without you there. His Lieutenant doesn’t even grant you that. The sergeants seem wary and you don't blame them but you know that it’s better to be someone like you that knows their worth than one of the holier-than-thou bureaucrats they’d been considering assigning to this post, so you’ll just have to try to find your place in the team.

-----

Soap is the easiest to win over. He finds you in the gym one night long after everyone else had retired back to their bunks, ripping through reps at the bench press without a spotter. He’s thrown for a minute, used to being the only one up this late since the rest of the squad is mostly diurnal, but he’s content enough to admire the way your compression shirt is darkened with sweat and to watch your muscles shift with each movement. Can feel himself drooling a little at the spice of your scent, heady and masculine and tempting enough to make him want to bite.

 He wonders a little, whether you’d be able to keep up with him and he can’t help the steady pace his tail picks up behind him as he decides he’s going to find out.

You’ve got your eyes closed and earbuds in like you’re the only one for miles and yet you still seem to sense him as he drops his bag and moves to stand near you. 

“S’dangerous,” he says as you re-rack your weights and pull an earbud out, “To lift without someone to spot you.” 

You nod, it’s one of the biggest rules of gym safety for a reason, but you’d never been great with rules. “Never much liked askin’ for help,” you admit after a minute. “Didn’t wanna bother anyone.”

He hums, and you don’t feel judged, just understood, “Well, you’re stuck with the lot o’ us now, whether you like it or not,” he grins, wolfish and happy, and moves to stand at the head of the bench to spot you, “Bother away.” And just like that, you’ve got yourself a new workout buddy.

It’s like he’s your self appointed shadow after that, waiting outside your door every morning with a freshly made protein shake in each hand, one for each of you. He’ll get all whiny about it too if you say no, pointy wolf ears drooping and tail falling still behind him. He looks like he’s about to cry until you finally relent and take yours from him (he perks up right away every time, the little faker). Eventually you learn that it’s easier to just take it from him without the fight and let him ramble on about whatever he’d seen on tiktok the night before as he walks you to your office.

He joins you for meals too, complains about the amount of food on your plate and scoops bites off his own plate to supplement yours despite your protests. His Ma had always told him growin’ up that he had to eat plenty of protein if he wanted to be big and strong and protect his pack, so he’s just tryin’ to do the same for you and doesn’t understand why you feel the need to argue about sharing food.

You’re part of his pack now, and Soap’ll be damned before he neglects one of his packmates, just don’t be surprised if he starts bullying his way into your room at night too - he’s a cuddler.

-----

Gaz warms up to you next, though he always blames the blood loss if someone asks what won him over. He’d joined you and Soap for your evening workouts a few times, and grinned at each other when you passed in the halls, but it’s not until the morning after a brutal op that he really starts to see you as part of the team.

It’s early. Barely three-thirty in the morning when the heli touches down and maybe only four when the squad tumbles through the doors but you’re right there with the rest of them. Price is already headed down to the administrative wing for a debrief and Ghost has a snoring Soap over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes on his way to the barracks, and then there’s just the two of you.

You’ve got one of Gaz’s arms over your shoulder and an arm heavy around his waist, tucked snug under his bleeding wing, taking most of his weight as you help him limp through the halls. You hang a left instead of the right that would lead to the infirmary, instead guiding him into your office. You sweep whatever paperwork had been on your desk aside, and help him up to sit, legs hanging off one side of your desk and wings cascading over the other.

You’re quick to shrug off the outer layer of your tactical gear and cast it aside, pulling out a sizable med kit from under your desk and settling on your knees in front of him. You ask him if it’s okay, before you help ease his cargo pants down enough to get to the wound on his thigh and he finds himself taken aback since their usual medic would just muscle them off or cut them away to get at it. You wait until he nods to start tugging at the fabric, fingers careful and intent as you work the material free from the torn flesh. 

He watches as your gaze flickers over the wound and you reach for what you need without even looking. He’s been told his eyes are intense before, it’s normal for bird of prey hybrids, perhaps especially so for golden eagle hybrids like him, but he’s never quite understood the way people describe being pinned in place by his gaze until now. 

You work fast, sterilizing, stitching, and then bandaging his wound with a speed that would rival the military doctors in the infirmary, and the stitches seem more sturdy than he can remember his last ones being. 

Once you’re satisfied with his leg, you stand and move behind him to get a better look at his wing. He'd taken a bullet to it, right through the meat of the muscle, and he knew he’d be grounded a long while until it healed. You hesitated then, unsure if he’d be okay with you touching such a personal area as his wings. 

Gaz swallows hard, trying to think of the last time someone other than himself had handled his wings, and nudges it back into your hands. You’re remarkably gentle, he thinks, as your fingers card delicately through rich caramel feathers until you’re able to uncover the bullet hole. You use a pair of tweezers, to make sure that there are no lingering bits of shrapnel, and a tiny set of scissors to trim back any of the soft downy feathers that could catch in the wound as it heals. 

He’s started churring by the time you’re done, a sort of contented trill from the feeling of someone else preening his wings, despite the lingering pain from the injuries. His golden eyes snap back to focus as you nudge a water bottle and granola bar into his hands with a muttered apology that it was all you had on hand, and he’s still plenty happy because you’re trying to be part of his flock by preening him and providing for him. He churs the whole while as you guide him back to his room and help him into bed.

Gaz quickly becomes a regular participant of you and Soap’s late night gym sessions and joins you for mealtimes once in a while after that night.

-----

Truthfully, you still don’t know what convinced Ghost you were worth knowing, but he supposes that’s because you hadn’t known he was there. He’d been on his way to deliver a mission report from Price to one of the other admin when one of his rounded ears caught the sound of your raised voice. His curiosity drew him to the door, cracked just enough that he was able to see you stood across a table from a trio of generals, arms crossed and back straight. 

“I appreciate your congratulations,” you growled, and Ghost was taken aback by the ferocity in your voice. He’d never heard you speak like that before, not even in the field. “But I am not the one who should be hearing it.”

His ears prick forward, tugging against the thick fabric of his mask as he listened closer, intrigued. 

“With all due respect, Major, task force 141-” one of the pencil pushers started.

“No,” you interrupted, hands coming down hard on the desk between you and the other officers, “They are due the commendations. They are the ones who built this team from the ground up. Sure, there have been successful missions since my joining, but those are not only my achievements. If you want to offer a public congratulations on a successful operation, it will be to my entire team, not just the picture you think would be easiest to publish.”

With that, you turn from the board of your superior officers and head for the door, ignoring their protests, and Ghost has to scramble back in order to avoid being hit with the door. 

“Sorry, Lieutenant,” you say as you see him, moving out of his way. “Didn’t see you there,” and for once that doesn’t sound like some slight against his panther genetics, just a plain statement - he’d been behind the door and you hadn’t meant to nearly clip him with it. You clap him on the shoulder and head off down the hall back toward your office and Ghost is tempted to drop the file where he stands to follow you, one simple interaction you hadn’t meant for him to see enough to convince him there was far more to you than he’d thought. 

You weren’t just some babysitter added to their little family to observe them like they were no more than wild animals - you actually saw their worth and were willing to fight for it?

An amused little huff escapes him and Ghost forces his attention back to the task at hand, spotted tail lashing smoothly behind him as he turns and continues on his way, sharp claws digging puncture wounds into the folder he’d been sent to deliver and your words ringing in his mind.  

----

Price was the last to come around to you being a part of their little family, though he’d never been outright hostile the way Ghost had at first. He’d done his best to be professional with you, complying with the needed paperwork and taking your insights on each operation under consideration, though he never deliberately sought you out. 

That didn’t mean he could avoid you when the team had a mission though, especially not now with the five of you piled into a much-too-small cabin in the mountains near where intel suggested one of Makarov’s bases were. Laswell had just radioed in to let Price know there was a snowstorm incoming so evac might be delayed and to expect to hunker down at least another two nights.

With only two bedrooms and a total of three small beds between them, you’d volunteered to take up roost on the lumpy couch in the living room so he’s not surprised to see you there, so much as he is by your company. You’re sprawled out in about the middle of the couch with Gaz tucked comfortably against your side, your arm around his shoulder and one of his wings curling around the both of you. As Gaz’s wing shifts, Price notices Soap curled against your legs, snoring away, but he freezes as he sees Ghost.

Everyone on the team has gone through hell, but Price knows Ghost has dealt with more than his share. Nightmares aren’t uncommon for any of them, but for Ghost a decent night’s sleep was an incredible rarity. That’s why he’s so startled to see Ghost stretched comfortably along the rest of the couch with his head on your lap and his face nuzzled into your stomach, skull mask gone in favor of his more casual balaclava, and his breathing deep and even.

A pleased little huff escapes Price, warmth spreading in his chest at the sight of his three favorite people curled up together happy and comfortable. And if you were part of that? Well, there was plenty of room for one more in that old bear’s heart.