#Task force 141

[lxvvie]

"Look at how that pussy wraps around my cock." -Gaz while watching himself pull his cock back out.

"No, no, no, darling, don't turn away," is what Gaz croons gently when you close your eyes, overwhelmed by the sensations, too flustered by the way he's staring so intensely at you.

"Look at it," he says when he pulls out midway and holds himself there with a soldier's restraint and you tremble and want to clench around him, "Look at me..."

You do.

"There we go, gorgeous..."

And he slams back in.

[metallictastinglifesupportliquid]

Y/N, calling Ghost: LT do you know my blood type? Ghost: Of course, it's A positive Y/N: Oh I guessed wrong, excuse me Nurse- Ghost: YOU DID WHAT-

[arualthefirst]

Group photo🫶🫶🫶

[s-oaps]

TASK FORCE 141 • MODERN WARFARE II

[grlpartdoll]

Something something

141 boys in a tiny mountain lumberjack town that has a total of 30 people in it and Price basically runs it all because he's the one that keeps the economy going (he has a lumber business and most of the people in town work for him) and Ghost is the hunter / butcher that is freakishly big and somewhat haunting looking and that you can't seem to catch ever because you see him for a split second, catching his masked face in the pub, and next think you know he's gone.

Johny is that bartender who keeps the local pub and the community warm, fed and mostly drunk. He talks too much and is known to be a lady's man, if not also a man's man, at times. Despite that, he has a sweet soul and the kindest eyes and won't hesitate to rattle off a loud "aye, s'on da house, mate! No worr'ies!".

Kyle is the boy next door, who, yes, is the town's mayor's son, but the mayor title in this time is really just a technicality. Because everyone knows deep down that the ones who run this town are the people, not a singular entity. Anyway, he's that sweet, boy next door who truly cares for everyone, and never hesitates to give a hand here and there and especially at Price's business. (His father hates it. But Kyle loves it, and he appreciates being John Price's (sort of) apprentice.)

Comes in, you. Sweet, sweet angel come from above — a pretty wounded bird — all but crashing into their town.

You pretend that everything is fine. Pretend that your crazy ex (who is a police officer) isn't actively running after you.

You come with the clothes on your back and enough stuff to fill a backpack. And somehow inherit the bookstore of the old, grumpy gossip lady that's too tired to keep it in shape anymore.

It's not surprising that your sudden appearance intrigues people, but it's really your reaction to the attention, that gets them even more interested.

You're cagey. Bitey. Hissy. You cock an eyebrow at people more than you speak to them. Raise your nose up haughtily at things, pretending as though you believe yourself too good for most things happening in town.

You walk always with a purpose, and an eye over your shoulder. You're hyper-aware and all riled up like a live wire, ready to snap at the boys as they try to catch a feel of your current situation and mood

And Johny can't help but think, as you simply scoff at him and walk away from his flirting, that he knows exactly who to call, when it comes to feral little things begging to be caught and handled properly.

Part 2

[uglygirltrying]

wolf-hybrid!simon x bunny-hybrid!reader | PT3 | pt2 | pt1 |

apparently simon wasn't the only one who loved your scent.

other males had been trespassing on his territory, coming dangerously close to his den. to you.

simon tried to make his scent more pronounced. to keep them away. to keep his bunny safe.

fortunately, so far, no one had been brave enough, to deliberately come after you. and simon thought that nobody would be.

until that day.

simon had left for water that evening. he wouldn't have been gone for long. it was always risky to leave you alone, without his protection. but simon promised to be quick.

unfortunately, that was enough time for him.

you shouldn't have been so naïve. so stupid. you should've stayed vigilant. but you were just cleaning the den. you didn't feel threatened. you felt safe.

heavy thumps on top of the den. that's what you heard first. you looked up, a little bit of dirt fell down from the den ceiling, and dropped on your head. it must be simon. it has to be. right?

but then. there was slow struggling at the den's entrance. you couldn't see it, it was behind a curve. but you could hear it. simon didn't have to struggle to get inside. it was his den after all, it was just big enough, to let him inside.

maybe he was just struggling with the water. yeah. it's simon, you tried to reassure yourself.

"s-simon...?" your voice was meek, scared, unsure. you've stopped messing with the nest, now only focused on the noises coming from the den's entrance.

the obvious struggles at the entrance stopped.

why? simon would give you an answer, wouldn't he?

the weather was beautiful. there was only few clouds covering the blue sky. the sun glared down, hot and bright. it made the snowbanks sparkle beautifully.

the hot light made the snow melt away, uncovering calm, small rapid. the clear water ran over the rocks underneath it's surface. only more and more snow kept melting into the water, small droplets falling down from the melting ice, and snow.

simon knelt by the river. filling a carved, wooden bucket, with the cold, refreshing water.

he had to keep himself, and the bunny hydrated, after all.

the bucket filled pretty quickly, and simon was ready to head back to the den.

the snow crunched under his steps. simons hot breath came out as steam, as it hit the cold air. frost was starting to form on the tips of his hair.

the wolf's movements stilled, as smell hit his nose. a musk. another male.

simon dropped the water filled bucket, and began to run. you were alone. hopefully you were alone.

but he wasn't there to protect you. oh, god.

panic flared inside simon, his heart beating out of his chest.

the den was just a rocks throw away from the river. simon was quickly there. that didn't calm him down. somebody was kneeling at the den's entrance, trying to dig in. trying to get to his bunny.

simon panted heavily as he approached. the trespasser heard him coming. with a smirk on his face, the intruder turned around, to look at simon. simon's hands clenched into fists, his skin turning white.

he gritted his teeth. "mace." the wolfs voice resembled a growl.

here this bear was, trying to steal his bun. simon knew him, a territorial rival. and now he was attempting to take his fucking mate. his mate. his.

the black bear chuckled darkly, as he stood up.

"can smell her... you're hiding a sweet thing in there..."

"time for you to go, mace." simon grumbled.

mace grinned. "i'll leave you be, for now."

he walked down from the den's entrance, towards simon.

"might wanna keep her in there. never know when she's going to get snatched up."

mace's shoulder knocked against simon's, when he walked past him.

simon was fuming. his whole body moved, as he took heavy breaths.

the wolf listened, until the sound of footsteps faded away, before rushing to the mouth of the den.

"bun? come here." he called out, into the tunnel.

he had to wait a moment, before he saw your head sticking out of the hole.

simon sighed. "come here..." he signaled for you to come closer with his hand. slowly, and hesitantly, you crawled to the entrance of the den, where he was waiting for you.

"you okay, bun?" simon mumbled, his hand gently holding your cheek. after a meek nod of your head, simon leaned in and kissed your forehead.

simon leaned away, and gently guided you back down into the den, following suite after you. once you were down in the nest, simon made sure to hold you tight against his chest.

"you know that I would never let anything happen to you. you know that, don't you, bunny?" the wolf murmured into your ear, his free hand slowly making it's way down your stomach.

"what can i do to calm you down, huh? you're still shaking." his hot breath hitting your ear. simon was being sneaky. before you even knew it, his calloused fingers, pinched your nub.

he chuckled at the squeal you let out. his fingers began to gently massage your little clit.

"i'll never let that happen again. okay?" his voice got more serious, and his touch harder. your legs kicked out at the increasing pressure on your sensitive clit.

his touch didn't relent. it only got more determined.

determined to distract you from the scary situation, you had to go through.

determined to make you feel good.

the feeling was foreign. his touch was so tough, just like him. but his words were so sweet. the pressure in your belly grew. your breathing got heavier. simon noticed. with a wicked smirk on his face, his movements got faster.

"give it to me. c'mon bunny... i know you want to." he so meanly teased.

it just suddenly hit you. your legs tensed up, and your breath hitched. luckily, simon decided to show you mercy. he helped you get down from your bliss, before pulling his hand from in between your sweet thighs. your juices coated his fingers. simon grinned at the sight.

the bunny was now completely limp in his arms, panting and exhausted. simon wiped his dirty fingers against the fur on your stomach. simon's hand grabbed your chin, turning your head to look at him.

"go to sleep, bunny..." he murmured quietly, laying you against his side. his arms rested around you, in a protective hold. he couldn't even imagine how scary it must've been for you, being trapped down here, with no way out, while somebody was trying to crawl inside.

but just as he promised, simon would never let it happen again.

authors note: that poor bucket, alone in the cold forest :(

heart divider by @roseschoices

taglist (honestly i'm pretty lost who's on it and who isn't😭):

@famouscattale @nappingmoon @tame-the-lion-writes @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @distinguishedprincesstrash @yourfavreggie @rorowingaboat @limeleag @sushiumex @aldis-nuts (won't find it sorry) @the-palelady

COMMENT TO GET ON THIS TAGLIST 😠

[tame-the-lion-writes]

reader finds out the mini army in her home actually A GROUP OF 4 GROWN MEN bcs shes taking them to the vet to castrate them and they panic and shift in her car just outside the vet you cant change my mind

Not gonna lie, I didn't think about them getting neutered until recently, either. But I can imagine reader tricking them into getting in her car, saying they're just gonna go to the park... and then the vet comes into view.

It's a miracle that you don't crash when the chaos starts. Soap is ramming himself into the glass window in an attempt to get out. Gaz is doing the same after hopping over the back seat into the trunk. Ghost is in a battle with you to keep the window up(--you forgot there's a switch to lock it, so it's just you and him pressing down on the button simultaneously). And Price, who normally gets the front seat, has attempted to hijack the steering wheel.

You pull over as soon as possible so you don't run over a pedestrian, but although Ghost has been seemingly calm the whole time, it's him who wedges a paw into the front passenger seat area and unlocks the door. Now you're chasing the boys down the street. Luckily, they just head home.

You've learned your lesson, though. At least, you do after a couple more tries. There is no strapping them in or putting on doggy seatbelts, because they get out of it anyway. There's also no blindfolding them, because it's like they've memorized both the directions and the mere sensation of where they're going.

Is losing your balls really that bad?

[the-whispers-of-death]

I don't think the boys would like melt if you squished their cheeks (face cheeks, stay with me in SFW land. /lh) together and cooed at them (because cuteness aggression), but I do think they'd let you do it.

Price would raise an eyebrow and ask what brought this on. But he'd hold his head still so you could keep squishing his cheeks.

Soap would 100% squish your cheeks together after you have your fill, because you're just as cute (maybe even more) as he is. You're going to be told how cute you are a lot after this.

Gaz leans into your touch and then kisses your hands. He hums in agreement when you call him cute, complimenting you back because you deserve it.

Ghost barely does anything in response to it, but at least he wouldn't move away from you. He's might never let you do this again, so get your fill of this as much as you can.

[forestshadow-wolf]

No bc Gaz being the base's biggest gossip is so real. And because soap is his best friend he gets all the tea. And because Ghost will never tell soap to shut up he also knows all the tea (and is LIVING for it). And because price is Ghost's friend and they hang out in the officees some times he also knows the tea

[gloomwitchwrites]

You're having a bad day so they do their own version of Magic Mike for you

ANON! This ask sent me into a fit of giggles. I am so happy to do this. I had a lot of fun putting together some quick writes. I know you've been waiting a while. I hope you have a good laugh out of this, and maybe even giggle and/or kick your feet with glee. I know I did!

Presented in four double drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader (can be read as gn!reader)

Content & Warnings: swearing, suggestive themes, dancing, singing, striptease, lap dance, brief non-descriptive nudity

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

"Everything okay, love?" asks John from the bathroom.

"Just a headache," you reply. "Had a busy day."

"Busy? Or bad?"

He knows you too well.

"Bad," you sigh, propping yourself up on an elbow.

John is no longer in the bathroom. He stands inside the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with one hand.

Freshly showered. Towel hanging on his hips.

"What?" you ask, noticing the smirk on his face.

John lightly pushes off from the doorframe. In a sultry sway, John begins to approach you, both hands reaching as if to undo the towel.

"John?"

He doesn't drop the towel, just teases the undressing. Your face grows hot as he nears. John comes to a stop just in front of you, the towel still perched on his hips.

"Go on," he purrs with a heated stare.

You tug and the towel falls away.

"Plan to fuck away my headache?" you cough out, gaze darting upward, focusing on his face and not what’s behind the towel.

John grabs your forearm, helping you to a seated position. "Not yet." He places one knee beside you on the bed. John holds your chin with thumb and forefinger. "No touching until I say so."

Simon "Ghost" Riley

"I’ve had a bad day," you sigh. “I’m tired.”

Turning your head away from Simon, you glance out the window.

As you exhale, something soft and large lands on your head. You yank it away. It's Simon's shirt. As you turn to address him, something else comes flying in your direction.

With a yelp, you snag it out of the air before it hits you. Simon's jeans. Belt included.

"What—"

Simon stands ramrod straight with arms at his sides in nothing but his boxer briefs and socks.

Perplexed, you fail to form words as Simon starts to saunter over to you. It’s stilted. Odd. The man has no rhythm but clearly all the confidence in the world.

"Oh my God," you murmur, clutching Simon's clothes to your chest, sinking further into the couch.

He's trying. He really is. But all you can focus on is how intense Simon’s face is, and how stiffly he…dances?

"Are you okay?" you ask.

Simon blinks. Frowns. "Yes." He glances down at himself. "Do you not like this?"

Whatever foul mood you were in has vanished, replaced with soft amusement and disbelief.

“Just…cuddle with me on the couch.”

“Clothes off?”

“Clothes off,” you confirm.

John "Soap" MacTavish

"Want to talk about it?"

"Not really," you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose.

When you glance up, Johnny has a devilish grin on his face.

"What?" you ask cautiously.

Johnny pushes off from the kitchen counter and reaches over his head, removing his shirt. Your mind promptly forgets its previous concern. All it cares about is Johnny's broad chest and muscled stomach.

"What are you doing?" you laugh as Johnny twists the shirt and grabs either end, placing it behind your neck.

"Helping," he coos.

Now in only grey sweatpants, Johnny pushes in. You lean back, a bit startled.

"Helping how?" you giggle.

Johnny rocks his hips, swaying them slightly in a semi-erotic rotation.

"You look ridiculous."

"Maybe,” he agrees. “But you're smiling."

You are. To the point that your cheeks ache.

"I could keep going," he teases, rolling his hips again.

You playfully push at his stomach and Johnny takes that moment to sink down into your lap. "Nope," you laugh. “Absolutely not."

Johnny does an exaggeratingly awful impression of a lap dance. It sends you into a fit of giggles, and he doesn't stop until you're wheezing.

"Better?" he teases.

The bad mood is gone.

"Much."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

"My brain is static," you groan. Kyle grins and starts to hum. "What are you doing?"

He saunters over to you, the humming turning into singing.

"Is that Pony by Ginuwine?" you laugh, disbelieving.

“Girl, when I break you off,” he continues to sing, removing his shirt, spinning it over his head like a lasso. “I promise that you won't want to get off.”

"Oh my god," you mutter, covering your face, cheeks flaring hot.

You peek through your fingers only for Kyle to toss the shirt at you. It lands above your head.

“If you’re horny, let’s do it,” he sings, reaching for the front of his pants. “Ride it.”

Your mouth is open, staring at Kyle as more of his clothes disappear. He’s in nothing but boxer briefs. Placing his foot on the couch, his hips flex forward, giving you a clear view of what’s beneath the fabric.

"Stop," you giggle, covering your eyes with one hand. The other extends to cover his junk.

Kyle takes your wrist and draws your palm to his chiseled stomach. "How are you feeling now?"

The static is gone, replaced with a soft affection that warms your everywhere.

"I'm better,” you laugh.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

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@umno-yeah @daemondoll @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez

@ash-tarte @enarien @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[remiebear]

Bird 141!!

[quillcraftconquer]

John 'Soap' MacTavish X Female Reader Pt. 2

Pt 1:

TW: Smut, as per usual.

You’re shaking the Captain's rough hands, offering a small smile of pleasantries before being introduced to the other team members. 

At 5 in the fucking morning.

You try to ignore the fact you just woke up mere hours ago, accompanied with a pounding headache and sore body. How much mouthwash does it take to rinse the taste of beer and one night stand from your mouth, you wonder, following Captain Price’s footsteps to the group of men. 

Jesus Christ, what do they feed these men?

You thought the Captain was big, but now that they’re turning to face you, you notice that the one wearing a...halloween mask? is noticeably bigger. You’ve already heard the spiel about him, not only from Captain Price, but from every other soldier who knew about Task Force 141. No, he doesn't take the mask off. No, he doesn't have a picture, anywhere. Yes, he is a little strange, but generally a nice guy with some witty banter. You shake his hand, notating the taut way he carries himself and the way his eyes flicker around like a pinball machine under his mask. If you bottled up a beehive and shook it, it would resemble this man's body. 

Ghost.

You can feel yourself nodding at their introductions, your hand sliding from theirs as you make your way down the line. You pause when you reach a much shorter, thicker body than the rest, no hand extended in front of them like the others. You glance up from the Union Jack flag you had dissociated into, meeting the wide, hungover blue ones staring back at you.

No fucking way.

A sound threatens to emit from you, something between a gasp and a laugh, at the audacity the universe has to put your one night stand in front of you, let alone on the same team. You can only presume this man, John, you hazily recall, is thinking the same thing as his mouth opens and closes like a dying fish. 

Soap.

Sgt. MacTavish. Johnny. Soap. You barely process the words until they’re repeated louder, angrier from the man next to him, the one they called Ghost. His hand whips out, connecting with the back of Soap’s head, ruffling the mohawk he had slicked back. As if it restarted his brain, his hand shot out, grasping yours and giving it a quick, firm shake before dropping it like it was on fire. The others start to dissipate, continuing packing away their bags onto a truck that was filled with items ready to bring you to the next base. You studied John, no, Soap, watching as he shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

Sgt. MacTavish.

“I outrank you.” 

The words come bubbling up before you can push them down. More heat flushes Soaps face, a red tinge warming his cheeks as he turns away from you silently, stalking back towards his team. You can no longer contain your laughter at the absurdity of the situation, doubling over as you clutch your stomach. The others, Gaz and Ghost, look at Soap in question, wondering what short conversation could have transpired to leave you in that state. 

The base is devoid from any comforts of home, the only luxurious thing about it being the dual showers, separated by a large concrete wall and two curtains. You bask in it, letting the warm water wash away the last bits of the alcohol induced sluggishness your body was clinging to. The sound of the curtain jerking open next to you causes your eyes to spring open, the dog tags thrown haphazardly over the wall, dipping into your side of the shower.

John MacTavish.

“I would have thought a member of an elite task force would have carried more than one condom in their wallet.” You thought aloud, smirking as you heard the muttered “bloody hell” from the other half. You quietly left your shower stall, throwing open the curtain next to yours and stepping inside of the water quickly. Soap moved to the side, eyeing you cautiously as you grinned at him. His eyes dropped to your naked body, his gaze heated as he slowly made his way back up to your eyes. 

“What're you doing?” He asked, casually resuming washing his body. He stopped again, watching as you settled on your knees in front of him, bracing yourself on his thick thighs.

“Thought I’d return the favor.” You mocked him from your earlier encounter, taking his hardening cock in your hand as you gave a slow lick from the base to the tip, swirling around it before taking him fully in your mouth. Soaps head knocked backwards, a shiver running through his body and emitting as a guttural moan when you reached the base, eyes watering and mingling with the shower droplets hitting your face. You gazed up at him, past the tightened abdominal muscles littered with dark hairs and towards his blue eyes, ones that you were beginning to grow fond of, gazing down at you. The water from the shower had ruined his well maintained mohawk, the hair now curling forward and brushing the hairs on his brow. 

You attempted to withdraw, your cheeks hollowed as you sucked, until his hand met the back of your head and stopped you. 

Oh. 

“I didn't even know your name until Price told me.” Soap observed, watching you with a bemused look, your lips wrapped around his thickness. You tried to move back off of him in an attempt to throw a witty remark, but he held you in place, stepping forward slightly until you were kneeling almost between his legs and tilting your head back until he could push into you again, deeper, almost straight down.

Oh. Was he upset?

“Didn't. Even. Know. Your. Name. But. I. Remembered. How. Good. This. Fucking. Mouth. Feels.” Soap groaned, each word punctuated by a thrust of his hips and his cock bumping the back of your throat. You let out a small noise, the act of him letting you use your body causing an ache between your legs. He glanced down at you, letting out a groan at the sight. Your hands were wrapped around his thighs, clutching to his ass as he continued to thrust, his cock twitching in your throat. 

“Wont forget it now.” He panted the promise, his hand shooting out to brace against the wall as he pulled you by the back of your neck closer to him until your nose was buried against his pubic bone. He threw his head back and moaned your name, thick ropes shooting down your throat, forcing you to swallow. Finally, his hand dropped, allowing you to stand freely in front of him under the (now cold) water. 

“Next time you say my name,” You said, brushing your hand across your lips to gather the small bead of cum that threatened to leak out, sucking it back into your mouth greedily.

“Put ‘Lieutenant’ in front of it.”.

[evilgwrl]

TF 141 x Reader (Apocalypse!AU)

Immune: Ten

WARNING: This is a 18+ Poly!141 series (MDNI)

CW: ANIMAL DEATH, gore, angst, kinda fluff at the end??? but very depressing chapter

Taglist: @echo9821 @beebeechaos @h3art3at3rr @johannxseb @cndy-l0v3 @nylluns @pomegranategum @tapioca-marzipan

Masterlist

GUYS I APOLOGISE THIS IS NOT AS GOOD AS I WANTED IT TO BE BUT IM HOPING TO FILL THE VOID WITH A SMUTTY NEXT CHAPTER </3

His vision was a stain of burnt umber, ropes of sepia blurring into blown pupils, eyes flushed with demand as he stared down at you. His cheeks were ample with a delicate rose hue, blonde lashes dipping into his skin every time he flickered down to your spread frame, your own lips flushed with the blush of the staggering movements between you two.

Silky webs of spit connected the two of you even when apart as exploring hands fed into the pillowy flesh of your thighs, groping at anything he could get a hand on. Your mind was fluttering, brain wracking with static as he felt over you, paying attention to every inch of delicate skin.

There was a harsh crack from the sky, a zip of thunder bellowing rage against quickly darkening sky as Daisy whinnied, trotting anxiously around her paddock, tail swishing as she bucked back and forth on her hooves. Cecil’s neigh sounded tortured as a strike of lighting broiled before zapping down into a patch of grass beside him, hind legs rearing as his body leapt over the lowest part of the fence.

You pulled away from Simon, a confused expression on your face as you pushed him aside, feet planted on the ground. Panic struck you as you noticed the lack of the stallion, a pained whine in the distance as you swore under your breath, burning legs scuffing against the dirt as you yanked open the gate, feet trampling onto Daisy in a rush as she bucked slightly.

Heavy feet kicked her hind as Ghost called out from behind you, the horse already trailing into the depths of the forest after the escapee. Bruises accompanied your skin as your legs slapped on the un-saddled horse, a wince leaving your lips at every stride Daisy galloped.

Trees succumbed to a blur as you whistled, mouth in a permanent ‘o’ as you called out for Cecil, a distressed huff leaving the mare as she darted between florae. The familiar crackle of tar sounded against her hooves as you reached the main road, your eyes clouded with desperation as you slowed down, frantically searching.

A scurry in the bushes alerted you as you listened to the sound of hooves scraping against the ground in the distance, a frantic neigh seeping into the wind as you hopped off Daisy, whistling for her to follow the road home as you sent her off, apprehensive feet trailing to the sound.

Fingers wrapped anxiously around a large rock as you ducked in between branches. The crackle of whines rode through the air, the disturbed tone of the horse’s pitch sending a surge of chills down your spine, paralysing you as you took in the sight.

Hot metallic rushed into your nostrils, pools of blood dribbling through an open wound, elongated talons of bone sticking out of the stallion’s leg as he let out a guttural whinny, eyes wide as his head slapped across the ground anxiously, teeth jutting with every agitated breath.

Your knees were weak, limbs slipping into a coma as you collided with the ground, your own flesh meeting the burn of twigs as you dragged yourself across the floor, a harsh sob sounding from you at the mangled, broken leg before you.

The horse was restless, snout slipping between inches of dirt as he attempted to rise, his weight fleeting to gravity as the sight of crumbled ivory dug into untouched skin.

“Fuck- I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you,” you wept, hands resting against his muzzle as you attempted to comfort him, pure agony displayed through the shiver of his muscles, twitching under broken flesh, fur saturated in the stench of crimson.

Your eyes were wild, stray tears pooling at your cheeks as you stroked the animal before you, pure misery evident in brown eyes as he huffed. “I’ll be back, I’ll be back, ok? Mumma’s gonna help you.”

Your voice was frantic, the crack of heartache slipping into every syllable as your chest wracked. Your legs felt useless, skidding against the road, trickles of blood pooling down your broken flesh, batters of broken skin tingling with irritation as you paid no mine.

The vision of the house before you was stagnant, the blear sight connecting like puzzle pieces as you blinked, sliced corium staining the handle rails as you tripped inside, mangled body colliding with the floor as you struggled to stand. Soap stood up in confusion, taking in the flummoxed sight of you.

“Bon, what’s wrong?”

“I need a gun and the car keys.”

“What fo-“

“I need them now,” you screeched, throat pained with desiccation as you rubbed desperately at your cheeks, skids of blood flushing your skin as you let out a pained sob. The Scotsman was quick, hurrying you to the car as you slammed the door shut, the chug of the engine crying into a ruptured breeze, the sound of lighting barely monitoring through you as you drove, hot tears cascading into the mixture of ichor painted upon you.

Soap was in a flurry, calling out to Gaz, who had found Daisy whining out front, quickly securing her away. Ghost had attempted to trail after you when you bolted off but lost sight, instead fixing the broken fence that had caught on Cecil’s hoof.

The commotion from inside hicked in Price’s chest as he fled down the stairs, only missing you as he watched you leave.

“What the bloody fuck is going on?” the Captain huffed, eyes brushing against bushy brows.

“She came in, covered in blood, screaming for a gun and the car keys-“

“And you didn’t think to go with her?” Ghost spat, storming into the house.

“She wasn’t waiting for anyone- didn’t even shut the car door as she drove off-“

The road in front of you was a blur as you followed the sickly trail of blood that leaked through an opening in the bushes, the ignition still running as you hopped out. You clambered through the bushes, wincing as a branch snagged against your cheek.

The silence was deafening as you whined, pushing through a broken web before stumbling upon the severed horse in the distance. Your scream entangled in your mouth, trapped between your tonsils as you subsided to the forest floor, the grunts of the dead stampeding across the stallion’s body, hisses of torn flesh seeping with blood as its head buried into the thickness of crimson-coloured mud.

“Get off him,” was supposed to leave your throat, but nothing did. Your whine was agonising, scorching through the grounds around you as the carbon steel slipped from your fingers, your hands shoving at the zombies surrounding the corpse as you grabbed the rock you had dropped earlier, pummelling into the rotting skull of one.

The sickly scent of mould infiltrated you as you gagged, straddling the body of another as you thrashed down on it, the squelch of a blackening brain migrating into the crevices of the miniature boulder. Your lips were pulled back in a snarl as you kicked the final deformity from your horse, battered hands colliding with the brittle bones that supported a decayed cerebrum.

Your pummels were never-ending, the rock scraping into the dirt as the monster turned to mush, nothing but the crumble of perished organs left. Your wail was excruciating as you collapsed against the dead horse, his body mangled into a pile of broken flesh, wounds tethered against fur as his eyes rolled into a lifeless state.

The rain that followed was harsh, pooling around you in an infested state as you struggled to breathe, your lungs popping with turmoil as you bawled, thick hiccups catching in your throat.

Your body collapsed into a tender frame as you struggled, clambering to save the horse that was already dead. “L-Let me go,” you wept, as heavy arms only took you away. There was a soft rustle against your hair, fingers running through the locks of your hair to comfort you, the sound of a gunshot going off in the distance.

Your eyes were struck, by blank images of massacred limbs and stolen innocence coerced you to stay awake as you stared aimlessly down the road, your ears static as Ghost attempted to talk to you, his hands tucked around your waist.

You didn’t reply.

You were grief-stricken, barely able to make it up the stairs as you were undressed, wounds seeping across broken skin as you barely hissed when a rag was pressed against it. You were defunct, your eyes void of nothing as your lips folded into a thin line.

The bare warmth of the water did nothing for you as Price lifted you in. Unheard words passed through you as you watched him walk away, your head slipping under, and your eyes still open.

You didn’t want to close them. Not now, not again. It was a deadly compilation. Flickering images of the gruesome scene haunt you with every blink. The water had turned a murky pink, dirty liquid sloshing as hands scorned under your arms.

“Sweet’art, I need you to answer me. I need you to tell me if you swallowed any blood or flesh.”

You only blinked.

“Y/N, I’m serious,” Price snarled, prying open your mouth as you snapped him away.

“No.”

That was enough for him.

The rest of the night had turned to a soundtrack of haze, pushy hands bringing water to your lips as you shoved them away. Your knees were sticky with wet cotton and bandages, your palms stinging with the residue of alcohol. They all came in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead in an attempt to soothe you.

Simon was last, his hands resting against your cheeks as he pressed dry lips into the heat of your skin. You winced as you grabbed his wrist, broken eyes glancing up at him with strains of blood-shot veins.

"Will you stay?"

[flowerfreya]

Football players!Simon having a really good game and only letting sport journalists!reader interview him after the game because she is the only one that believed in him.

Simon is in the press room. Questions being thrown at him left and right but he has eyes only for one.

Reader just has her hand up waiting patiently.

Simon moves closer to the mic,”you , with the hand raised” , it has you looking around and then pointing to yourself.

Simon nods his head. You let out a big smile never have been called on before.

“Why do you think you did better this game than any of the games this season” , it’s a gimme question but you’re just happy to be able to ask a question.

“Because you believed in me”, say Simon with a little smirk.

[emmster]

Little animatic based off of some Grey’s audio

[ink-n-shadow]

Thinkin’ about Price, who’s on med leave and under strict orders not to engage in any strenuous activity, begging his controversially young wife to take pity on an old man and fuck him.

Your daughter is born nine months later. You like to joke she exists bc your husband was actually home long enough to put a baby in you.

NOW YOU GOT ME THINKIN ANON—

[ MEDICAL LEAVE ] 𝜗𝜚 the one where john's finally home long enough to get you pregnant

𝜗𝜚 pairing: john price x younger wife!reader (reader is afab) 𝜗𝜚 cw: smut (minors—DNI), age gap (price is in his late 30s, reader is late 20s), mentions of surgery/recovery, john having a pain kink (need i say more?), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it/get tapped), unedited as usual, bad ending

"john, the doctor had strict orders for you to—"

you're cut off mid-rant by john slotting his lips over yours, the mitts of his hands covering your cheeks and tugging your face closer to his. his tongue juts out to lick needily at the seam of your lips, the faint taste of the painkillers he had just taken still fresh on his tastebuds only to be replaced by the sweet mint of your toothpaste.

john would've kept kissing you, too, if he hadn't tried to twist his hips over to face you, making him pull away sharply and hiss out at the way the fresh sutures etched in his ribs twinged in pain.

"john—"

"m'fine," john grunts out hoarsely as he lays back down flat on his back, eyebrows pinched low in the middle of his forehead and tongue licking at the remnants of your spit on his lips. "just wanna—christ—wanna be inside ya."

and that’s how you got to your current position, sitting directly behind john’s thick and leaking cock as you lean back to rest your hands on his hairy muscled thighs—anywhere that wasn’t sutured closed or bruised from the surgery he’d undergone. from beneath furrowed brows, your soft eyes focused on the molten heat buoying in his pupils.

“i don’t wanna accidentally hurt you, john,” the end of your sentence comes out pinched in a whine as the calloused pad of his thumb begins circling your sopping clit, your hips jumping at the stimulation and instinctively rolling forward against his sensitive cock.

john uses the thumb petting at your clit to distract you from the way he manhandles you up, notching the head of his cock between your folds and holding you there for a moment. “i don’t fuckin’ care if it hurts, ‘lright? don’t wan’ you stoppin’ until i feel you cummin’ ‘round my cock four times, and i fill up this pretty fuckin’ pussy—understand me?”

and even though john’s cemented into your shared bed on his back, he keeps you all nice and obedient under his thumb, using the hand he keeps groping at your hip as a way to guide the way your movements. every so often, his sutures would twinge in just a way to send a jolt of pain up his spine—but then he would feel your gummy walls gripping his cock just a little tighter, and the pain would warp into delicious pleasure.

you, ever the good little wife you were, did exactly as john told you—only pulling off of him when your fluids were a messy mixture between my thighs and you could barely walk to the bathroom on wobbly legs.

it didn’t even cross your mind when a month and a half later, you’re a mess of hormones and continuous morning sickness that threatens to knock you out from work for a couple days. john tells you it’s fine, that he’ll work some more late nights to cover your income for a couple days, but you’re determined to keep working.

only after nearly fainting at your home one morning (after john fucked you through at least 2 orgasms) did you find yourself on the doctor’s examination table, fingers nearly snapping john’s hand bones in half when he read off the positive pregnancy result.

and when your daughter is born nine months later (december 14th, by the way—a sagittarius baby), you’re curled up in the hospital bed with john holding you closely, the baby sandwiched comfortably between you two and grappling at one of his thick fingers.

“y’know how long i’ve been waiting for this?” you giggle out softly as you nose against john’s beared jaw, eyes fluttering closed and system overflowing with painkillers and endorphins. “guess you were finally home long enough to actually put a baby in me this time.”