#john price comfort

[dmitriene]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤthis scene, but with captain john price

john's blue eyes, just like a storm, glare into yours while a mixture of desire and possessiveness burned in them.

he holds your chin tightly, pressing your head back into the softness of the pillows and fragrant bed linen so that you meet his gaze.

your moans and mewls fill the room, matching the rhythm of your bodies colliding and his low growls as your eyes threaten to roll back before they can, the husky and rough tone of john's voice echoing through the room like a thunder

— “come on, darlin', look into my eyes while i fuck you„

his thrusts become more and more powerful, the slap of his hips against your plush ass echoes through the air, each deep, powerful thrust plunges you deeper into a haze of pleasure, your cunt throbbing and weeping with need.

the dimly lit bedroom is filled with the intoxicating aroma of sex, mingling with the sounds of your passionate cries, the heat between your legs becomes almost unbearable, and the slickness covering john's meaty cock makes each thrust even more intense.

you're completely at his mercy, giving in to the primal desires coursing through your veins as he mercilessly claims you, his cock plundering your depths with unyielding zeal, relentlessly pounding into your spongy spot, sending pleasure shooting up your spine and pushing you ever closer to orgasm, each thrust knocks the air out of your lungs, followed by unintelligible babbling and whining

— “j-john, nnghh!! john, gonna c-cum, wanna t'cum„

john's grip on your chin tightens as he feels and hears the telltale signs of your impending release, allowing a smirk to tug at the corners of his lips, stretching his mustache as his blue eyes sparkle with satisfaction.

he deliberately adjusts the angle of his thrusts, targeting your sweet spot with each powerful thrust, and each sensation sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, your walls clenching around him in a desperate attempt to hold on to the swirling sensations.

your babbles and mewls become more and more passionate, words fly out of your mouth incoherently from a heavy tongue, the pressure in your lower abdomen reaches almost unbearable levels, the need to free yourself consumes your every thought, engulfing your body in small convulsions.

his thrusts become more measured, his cock thrusting in and out of you with a wet, sloppy rhythm, and his gaze meets yours, john's eyes are burning with intensity, through your wet, fluttering eyelashes you see the raw desire in his gaze, urging you to let go

— “cum then, come on, cum for me, sweetheart, cum on my cock„

he growls, a low rumble that echoes through your body, urging you to give in to the pleasure that threatens to consume you, keeping you pinned to the bed and impaled on his throbbing cock, john pushing you closer to the edge, his primal dominance driving you to a dizzying climax , leaving you completely limp and fucked out

— “there she is, g-good fucking girl, wait for me, yeah? good girl„

blue eyes become almost dark, possessive from the intensity of the current encounter, while your body tightens around him, your cunt contracts and spasms in the throes of orgasm, not hearing his words at all, but still nodding stupidly

your moans ring against the walls of the room and john feels the grip of your walls around his cock, milking him as you reach your peak, with one last, powerful thrust he lets go of your chin, letting your head fall back onto the pillow, your back arches, your body trembles with the force of the climax that brings with it slight spasms

his cock slides in your spasmic heat, as the wetness of your cum and slick acts as a lubricant, intensifying the sensation, he grunts, his slightly softened abdominal muscles clenching as he finds his own release, practically growling over you like an animal, clenching his dripping with sweat bearded jaw, his gaze is focused on your eyes that are either closing or rolling back

thick ropes of his cum fill you, pumping you full of his hot release, john watches your dazed reaction with a mixture of satisfaction and tenderness, your eyes are barely open and look at him completely relaxed, as if you are not here, softly, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close and chuckling hoarsely, still buried deep within your wet pussy, plunging his cum in

— “did so good for me, so good„

he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his features that are rugged by age are softening momentarily, thick arms and warm palms envelope your slightly shaking body, rubbing up and down your warmed, sweated skin, when you just snuggle closer to him intuitively, hiding in the curve of his neck, gradually coming to your senses, although it definitely won't be soon.

[synthe4u]

masterlist

A wave of nausea hit you, sending you reeling back from your papers. You grasped your stomach, willing the pain to go away. There was a deadline set for this work and of course you being you had to wait last minute to finish.

You glimpsed at the time, 1:03am, the paper was due at 6:00am and you were hoping to get some sleep before then.

A knock sounded before the door opened, "Hey love, you okay?"

It was your husband, John. You had forgotten he came back from a mission two days ago. You've just been too busy with work.

"I'm alright."

"You sure?"

He raised an eyebrow at you. Maybe it was the way you were hunched over or the papers scrawled all over the office desk. Or the time...Time.

You had to finish this paper now. For both your mental and physical well-being, but none of it was making any sense.

The words started to jumble on the pages.

You didn't know when, but John came back with a plated sandwich.

"It's not much, but you haven't any yet."

You mumbled a thanks before going back to writing. Your lover watched over you, waiting for you to pick up and eat the sandwich he made.

"Gonna eat, love?"

"Yeah, yeah," you mumbled, too focused on thinking of what to write. So focused that you didn't realize when John started tapping his arm in impatience.

It was only when he stood right behind you with his hand on your wrist, pulling your arm away from what needed to be done.

"You need some sleep."

"But I have to finish this!"

He grabbed your arm, pulling you away from the desk and chair. You wouldn't fight him. You didn't have the strength to do so because you were too tired.

He laid both of you down, wrapping an arm around you.

"Goodnight, love."

"Goodnight," you laid awake with your eyes wide open. Your thoughts were too big for your head and it felt like you needed rest, but you couldn't.

"I didn't eat the sandwich you made me."

"Huh?" He was confused by your statement.

You repeated yourself, "I didn't eat the sandwich you made me."

You could imagine him closing his eyes again while he spoke, "You can eat it in the morning."

A moment passed before he sighed and pulled you closer into his arms. The married couple snuggled together for both warmth, love, and comfort. They understood one another and that was all that mattered between them.

Sometimes moments of comfort like this makes one want to dream.

[isabella-kr]

Are you still taking requests for Price fics??? Can I please get a fluff/smut with him and a reader who has insecurities about her body

I most definitely am!! Thank you so much for requesting!! The beginning turned out sadder than planned, so I’m sorry about that. Also, this isn’t my best work; I’m not sure why but my brain wasn’t braining when I was trying to write this so the quality is slightly off.

Marked Beauty

Do not repost

Synopsis: When Price catches her looking in the mirror for longer than usual, he can immediately tell something is wrong. When she voices her insecurities, he makes it his mission to show her just how beautiful she is.

Pairing: John Price x Female!Wife!Reader (I’m sorry, I’m a sucker for husband Price)

Genre: Fluff & Smut. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 YEARS OLD

Warnings: Insecurities, dislike of one's body, Mention of stretch marks, scars, and cellulite, body worship, smut, description of male and female bodies, description of male and female genitalia, cunnilingus, fingering, penetrative sex, p in v, soft sex, creampie, use of ‘love’ and ‘sweetheart’ (let me know if I missed anything)

Note: There is no mention of body weight or size in this fic. The reader is not described as having a specific body type - stretch marks and cellulite is something anyone can get no matter their size.

Word Count: 4.5k

General Masterlist COD:MWII Masterlist

GIF not mine (Boobies 😍)

He could tell something was wrong the moment she stepped in front of the mirror to brush her teeth. The way her eyes raked over her own body made his chest ache; there was a certain hatred in them, and he would even go as far as say she looked disgusted.  

Feeling his heart break piece by piece, he stood up from where he sat on the bed and stopped in the threshold of the bathroom that was connected to their bedroom. She didn’t even notice his presence, too focused on judging every inch of herself. He approached her the moment she spat the toothpaste in the sink, his arms immediately moving to wrap around her torso and pulling her close against him.  

She let out a small sigh when he pressed his face into the crook of her neck, and placed her hands atop his, enjoying the feeling of his warm chest pressing against her back. She almost smiled, but the moment she looked into the mirror again, her face turned blank.  

“What’s wrong?” he muttered against her skin, his beard tickling her neck.  

She exhaled sharply, internally scolding herself for allowing him to see through her. “Nothing’s wrong,” she sent him a small smile, “Go to bed, I’ll join you in a sec, alright?”  

He shook his head and pulled himself up to stare into her eyes through the mirror. He said her name softly, his gruff voice barely above a whisper as he continued, “Please talk to me.”  

She looked to the side and away from his concerned gaze, “I’m fine,” she told him.

But John didn’t believe her. He turned her around in his arms and placed his hand on her cheek, angling her face so their eyes would lock, “Sweetheart, we’ve been together far too long for me to believe that.”

He watched as her eyes glazed over, and she quickly hung her head to look at the ground; she refused to let him see her this way. To see her broken and on the verge of tears.  

“Hey,” he attempted to lift her head back up, but she refused.  

It was when she let out a choked sob, and when he felt her hot tears wet his fingertips that he brought her closer towards him. His palm cradled the back of her head as he pressed her cheek against his shoulder, his other hand reaching to rub comforting circles on her back. Her own hands grabbed onto his shirt and cramped it between her fingers as quiet whimpers left her lips.  

“Shh-shh-shh,” he tried to comfort her, placing a loving kiss against her head as he swayed them from side to side. She clung onto him like her life depended on it, quiet apologies leaving her lips when she felt her tears soaking through his shirt. He could only shake his head in response and assure her it was okay, that she had nothing to be sorry for.  

Once she began to calm down – her sobs ceasing and tears drying on her skin – he pulled away, cupping her cheeks in his calloused hands to look at her. The whites of her eyes were a faint red, and her face was slightly puffy from crying.  

“Talk to me?” he whispered, his eyes begging her to tell him what was wrong - what he could do to help.  

Hesitantly, she nodded, and the moment she did he felt like he could breathe again. He pressed his hand against the small of her back and led her back to their bedroom, where they both sat on the edge of the soft bed. His hands reached for hers and he held them, gently rubbing his thumb against her skin.  

“John,” she managed to whisper, and he hummed, urging her to continue, “Do you still find me attractive?”  

The question alone took him aback, but it was the seriousness in her tone that made him freeze. His brows knit together, and his eyes looked more concerned than before as he leaned forward. He searched her face for something, perhaps because a part of him wished this was all just a really bad joke.  

“’Course I do,” he stated in disbelief, “What makes you think I don’t?”  

She shrugged, her eyes gazing down at their intertwined fingers, “I just-” she let out a deep sigh, “I don’t know.”  

“Hey,” he moved off the bed and crouched down in front of her, keeping his hands on top of hers as he looked into her eyes, “You can tell me.”  

She looked more tired from this angle. The way the shadows fell on her face made her look as though she hadn’t slept in weeks. The frown that pulled on her lips didn’t make it any better, only showing how truly devastated she looked.  

His mind began to work on overdrive. Had he said something to her? Did he do something without realising? Maybe it wasn’t him. Maybe someone said something nasty to her, and now she couldn’t get their words out of her head.  

It was as though she could hear the thoughts that ran through his head. She shook her head at him and let out a small breath, “I just... I don’t feel-” she groaned, placing her hands on her face, “Whenever I look at myself all I can see is flaws, and sometimes I’m scared that one day it will be all you’ll start seeing, too.”  

He couldn’t believe his own ears. He couldn’t believe she thought of herself that way, that she saw herself that way. His chest felt heavy as he moved to sit beside her and placed a comforting hand on the small of her back.  

“Did someone say something to you?” he questioned; his voice gentle as he spoke.  

“No.” she assured him, “No, no-one said anything, and don’t worry, you didn’t do anything either. It’s me – I just don’t like the way I look. Honestly, I don’t know what you see in me, John.”

He hummed, taking her words in and digesting them before he opened his mouth, “D’you want to know what I see?”  

She swallowed thickly, “What?”  

“Definitely not the flaws you’re seeing, love,” he attempted to lighten her mood. “I’m not even sure what ‘flaws’ you’re thinking of. All I can see is my beautiful, beautiful wife.”  

Despite the awful thoughts still plaguing her mind, she couldn’t help but become bashful at his words. She could feel the heat on her cheeks, and hated herself for lifting the corners of her mouth into a small smile.  

“There you are,” he said as though he hadn’t seen her in months. He quickly turned serious, a hand pressing against her cheek to turn her face in his direction, “You’ll always be beautiful to me,” he said her name with so much love, she could feel her heart swell, “Even when we’re both old, wrinkly and complaining about back pain. I love you, and that’s never going to change.”  

“You already complain about your back pain,” she pointed out as her arms wrapped around his neck to pull him into a tight hug.  

“See, we’re already half way there,” he laughed, “If you ever feel like this again, you tell me, alright?” she nodded into his shoulder, “I can’t have you feeling like this.”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, “For worrying you.”  

“I’m your husband,” he chuckled, pulling away from her, “It’s my job to worry, yeah?”  

She snorted at that, and he couldn’t help but grin at her reaction. With a small laugh of his own, he pressed his lips against hers and used his thumbs to wipe away the dry tears from her cheeks. The kiss started off sweet and gentle, their soft lips melting against one another in the slow dance. But it eventually turned more passionate – more lustful – as he pressed his lips harder against hers, hands beginning to wander down from her hips.  

They pulled away to catch their breaths, their foreheads pressing together in a loving gesture. “Can I show you just how beautiful you are to me?” he asked.  

She knew what he meant by this, and she didn’t even have to think about her answer. She nodded, a small ‘yeah’ leaving her lips as she pressed them against his once again. This kiss was short and sweet and he smiled when they moved apart.

Placing his hands on her hips, he guided her along the bed to rest her head on the fluffy pillows. He hovered above her, hand resting by her head as he leaned down to kiss her once again. His tongue entered her mouth, and the quiet mewl that left her when their tongues met had his body turning hot. They explored one another as if it was their first time doing so; hands ran up and down each other’s bodies and tongues swiped against one another in a loving embrace.  

A string of saliva connected them when John eventually pulled away. His breathing was heavy and eyes closed as he attempted to calm himself down. He pressed his nose against the soft skin of her cheek and decided to press more kisses there, trailing from her cheek, to her jaw, down her neck and stopping just above her clavicle.  

“John,” she whispered, legs moving to rest on either side of his hips.  

He groaned at her needy tone, the sound of her voice only spurring him on as he kissed past her clavicle and over her shirt. His hands slipped underneath the hem of her shirt and rolled up the material to her ribs to expose her stomach. His lips attached to the newly uncovered skin, pressing soft kisses around her belly button.  

As his lips moved downward, stopping at the waistband of her bottoms, he noticed something different. Instead of the usual shorts she wore to bed, her legs were covered with long pyjama bottoms that reached her ankles. He frowned, eyes gazing up at her curiously.  

“Is it your legs, love?” he asked, brows furrowing in question.  

She let out a sharp breath, her tongue wetting her lips as she nodded. He kissed the softness of her abdomen before pushing himself up to look into her eyes. “Can I take ‘em off?” he asked seriously, hand stroking the apple of her cheek.  

She nodded, though he could see the hesitance in her eyes. One of his hands settled on the soft skin of her hip, gently rubbing the area with his thumb as he tilted his head to the side in thought. He let out a soft hum, eyes analysing her own.  

“John,” her voice caught his attention, “I trust you. I just... it’s my thighs...”  

“Are you sure?” he asked, wanting to be certain she definitely wanted this.  

She smiled at him, and pressed a hot kiss against his lips. He groaned at the feeling, and almost whined when she pulled away, “I want you, John.”  

He only smiled before moving his head back down towards her stomach and pressing open-mouthed kisses against her skin. He hooked his fingers at the waistband of her bottoms and began to pull them downward, her hips rising a little to help him get them off.  

Despite him having seen her naked countless times before, and despite still having her underwear and shirt on, she felt more exposed than ever. Yet when she looked into his eyes, which were already staring back at her - scanning her face for discomfort – she felt herself relax; his eyes were so soft, and held so much love, she felt like her heart was going to burst at the sight.  

He pressed his lips against her knee as he held her leg carefully in his hand. He squeezed the soft flesh of her thigh, enjoying how it jiggled underneath his fingertips. Her breath hitched when he lifted her leg further up her body, the top of her thigh making contact with her torso.  

The position reminded her of the many times he practically folded her in half to pound deeper into her. It reminded her of the nights when she finished multiple times in a row, and when her legs felt sore the day after. But this time was different; instead of his fingertips digging into the skin of her hip, they softly held onto her knee; instead of harsh kisses that stole her breath away, he lightly pressed his lips against the bumpy area of her thigh.  

His eyes gazed upon the cellulite that decorated her skin, but unlike her, he didn’t see flaws. All he saw was the woman he fell in love with. The woman he was willing to take a bullet for. The bumpy area of her thigh was nothing but a decoration on her body. And he kissed it. He kissed every bump that adorned her skin, refusing to miss even a single one.  

Her breathing was turning heavy as he travelled from underneath her knee and down to her buttocks. His fingers caressed the cellulite on her thigh before digging his fingers into her skin and moving her leg to expose the cotton of her underwear.  

He moved his face toward her core, and placed a soft kiss against her clothed clit. A soft mewl left her lips at the action, and he smiled proudly at the sound. “You mind if I take ‘em off, love?”  

She shook her head, and practically begged him to do just that. A breathless ‘please’ left her lips, and that’s all he needed. Quickly, yet still as carefully and softly as before, he pulled the material off her hips and almost salivated at the sight of her bottom half bare in front of him. He swore he would never get tired of seeing her like this; with eyes clenched shut and mouth ajar, small sighs leaving her open lips as she subconsciously rutted her hips towards him.

“John,” his name left her lips in a quiet plea.  

He smirked, and on any other occasion he would have waited another moment; he would have her begging to place his lips around her. Yet this time he gave her what she wanted – what she needed – without a second thought.  

His lips were wrapped on her already swollen clit before she got the chance to say his name again. A choked moan left her lips at the feeling, and her fingers went to grab onto his short hair. Her thighs clenched around his head when his tongue pressed against her hot skin, tasting her arousal as he licked her from the opening of her vagina, and up to her sensitive bud.  

She let out a desperate whine as she lifted her hips, pressing her core harder against his face. She felt him smile against her, the hairs of his beard digging into the skin of her thighs. He wrapped an arm around her abdomen and pushed her down to keep her in place.  

His lips were back to sucking on her clit in no time, and she felt as his index finger moved through her labia and gently pushed into her. The feeling was ecstatic, and she couldn’t help the loud moan that tumbled from her lips. “John,” she chanted his name as though it was the only name she knew.  

He pumped the finger in and out, the sound of her wetness seeping out of her making his cock feel even harder than it already was. He added another finger and curled them in her tight canal. Her soft walls clenched around his digits, and when she attempted to arch her back, he knew she was close.  

The pulls on his hair turned harsher, and her soft thighs squeezed his head when her walls began to spasm. He let her push her core against him, his mouth refusing to leave the swell of her clit as she shook underneath him. Her orgasm seeped out of her and drenched his fingers, which he continued to pump in and out until she stopped moving.  

He pulled out his digits from her and placed them in his mouth, keeping eye contact with her when he licked them clean off her orgasm. The sound that left her lips was unholy, and it took everything in him to not grin like the Cheshire cat in return.  

“You’re stunning,” he told her, and smiled when she moaned at his words.  

He moved back towards her face and kissed her hungrily. She could taste herself on his tongue, and the it made her wrap her arms tightly around his neck. She pushed her torso into his, and when her naked crotch made contact with his still clothed dick, she felt how hard he was. She could only imagine how uncomfortable it was, so she let her hands travel from the hard muscles in his back and towards his abdomen, eager to wrap her fingers around his thickness.

Her hands barely had time to touch the soft material before he pulled them away and shook his head at her. “Not tonight,” he told her and stood up to remove the soft material himself.  

His boxers ended up on the floor of their bedroom, and he didn’t stop until he was fully bare in front of her, his shirt joining the small pile on the floor. She shamelessly ogled his form from the bed, now sat up and hugging her naked legs against her chest.  

He let out a small chuckle at the sight of her, “Enjoying the view?” he asked, getting on his knees in front of her.  

She giggled, “Wish I could take a picture,” she answered with a soft smile.  

He breathed out a laugh and grabbed onto the hem of her shirt, pulling it off her before letting it join his own clothes on the floor. “Show me,” he told her and she looked up at him with a confused expression, “What else, love? Show me.”  

She bit into her bottom lip in thought before nodding and grabbing his wrist. Spreading her thighs so he could step between them, she moved his hand toward her hip. He got her to lay back down as he analysed her skin. It was only then that he saw the faint lines on her body, the stretch marks running from the top of her hip and down to her thigh.  

Truth be told, he never paid them much mind. Sure, he’s seen that they were there, but he never would have guessed they caused her such heartache – such pain. He pressed gentle kisses on her hip, smiling against her before moving to hover above her once again.  

“You know, all scars tell us is that we survived,” he pointed at his own torso, which was littered with scars of all sizes. Some were short and faint and others long and deep, but they all told the same story; he survived everything that was thrown his way.  

She let out a sigh, “They’re not scars, John. They’re stretch marks. I haven’t survived anything.”

“Yeah, you have,” he argued, and she knit her brows in question, “You survive every day, don’t you? No matter what’s thrown at you, you’ve survived it all. Like that time you hit yourself on the table – remember the bruise you had for weeks?” He asked and she nodded, “Look, you might not have survived anything life-threatening, but you survived nonetheless. I mean, you survive with me and my, as you call them, ‘awful hats’ everyday, so that counts for something.” He laughed, “They’re nothing to be ashamed of, sweetheart.”  

She could feel the tears brimming her eyes at his words. She managed to nod, pulling him into another kiss as her legs wrapped around his torso. She was becoming desperate, his words only making her want him inside her more and more.  

“John,” she breathed out, “I love you. I love you so much.”  

He groaned when her hand suddenly grabbed onto the base of his cock and pumped him, moving up and down his length. She lined the tip with the wet entrance of her vagina, moaning at the feeling of his hot and sticky skin pressing against her.

“I love you, too,” he managed to say as he pushed inside of her.

The feeling of his cock stretching her out felt heavenly. She could feel every inch of him as he moved inside of her, pushing in until he bottomed out. His pelvis was pressed against her clit, and she clenched her walls around him at the feeling.  

He grunted, tightening his hold on her left hip as his other hand moved to rest beside her head. “Fuck,” he cursed, forehead pressing against her shoulder. He tapped his hand against the side of her hip, and she arched against him, her hard nipples pressing deliciously against his hot skin.

Taking the chance, he moved a pillow underneath the small of her back, the slight lift allowing him to push even further into her. His tip pressed against the soft wall of her cervix, and she attempted to move her hips against his.  

The desperation was clear on her face when he opened his eyes to look at her. His forehead pressed against hers and he finally moved his hips – slowly, sensually. His thrusts were slow and deep, as though he was trying to reach the deepest depths of her being.

She could feel the love radiating off him; the tenderness of his movements, gentle hold he had on her thigh as he pushed it further up his torso – attempting to reach as deeply as humanly possible – and the way he pressed small kisses against her temple. She could feel it all, and it brought hot tears to her eyes.  

He held onto him as the tears began to roll down her cheeks, and her hips moved in sync with his. He whispered her name in her ear, followed by words of adoration, “Fuckin’ beautiful,” he spoke against her ear, his beard tickling her skin.

She clenched around him and her hips stuttered with every word – with every thrust. “So gorgeous,” he continued, lips pressing against the edge of her jaw after every word, “My fuckin’ gorgeous wife.”

Her abdomen felt hot, and the knot that slowly began to form in her stomach was threatening to snap. He could feel it; he could feel her getting closer. He slightly sped up his movements, his pelvis rubbing against her clit with every single thrust.  

It was becoming too much. The words of love he chanted in her ear, the way her breasts rubbed against the scarred skin of his chest, and the way his cock pressed against the wall of her cervix with every single thrust. It was too much, and with a clench of her walls, she felt the knot finally break.  

A loud moan got past his lips as the feeling of her walls hugging him tighter. His own hips began to stutter, and as she continued to spasm in his arms, her pushed into her with one final thrust.  

She felt the warmth of his cum filling up her insides, the feeling only making her whine louder than before. His forehead went to press against hers once more as he fully emptied himself inside of her, his orgasm mixing with hers.

They stayed like that for a moment; he was still inside her, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck and bodies remained flushed together. They were both panting, their chests heaving after the passionate and intense session.  

When she eventually opened her eyes – her vision slightly blurred from her orgasm – he was already staring back at her. The corners of his lips were pulled into a smile, and his eyes held a softness she had seen many times before, yet would never get tired of.  

“Hello, gorgeous,” he whispered, his voice hoarse as he repeated the compliment he had previously chanted like a prayer.  

She smiled, her arms loosening around his neck as she moved to cup his cheeks in her palms, “Hello, handsome,” she replied.  

With a look full of love, he pressed a kiss against her cheek and pushed himself up to pull out of her. She whined at the feeling of sudden loss, her hands grabbing onto his forearms that were on either side of her head. She could feel his release slowly seeping out of her, and before it could trickle too far down – before their bed sheets were ruined – he picked her up from the bed.  

She let out a squeal of surprise when she was lifted into his arms, and with an amused laugh, he took them both to the bathroom. “Bath?” he asked as he placed her on her feet, making sure she was steady and her legs weren’t wobbling.  

She held onto his shoulder for a second, but nodded when she felt the feeling return to her legs. As he went to draw them both a bath, she reached for the towel cabinet and pulled out a small, clean rag. She wet it with warm water and just as she was about to wipe it on her thigh, it was taken from her.

John turned her around and pressed her back against the cold sink, making her hiss out at the feeling. He only chuckled when he grabbed one of her thighs and pulled it up towards him, only to then press the warm towel against her hot skin. He cleaned off the stickiness of her thighs, doing the same for himself before pressing the material flush against her crotch, collecting the arousal that had seeped out of her.  

She couldn’t help but flinch and moan at the feeling, her mouth falling ajar as she grabbed onto her husband’s bicep. “Sorry, had to clean you up,” he told her with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

She almost rolled her eyes at him, but could only smile when he pulled her in for a kiss. The towel was discarded in the sink as his hands moved to rest on her waist. The skin-on-skin contact was nice, the intimacy of the moment causing a certain peacefulness to fall upon them.  

“C’mon,” he eventually said and led her to the bathtub full of hot water.

The moment the water enveloped her, she could feel her muscles relaxing from the warmth that surrounded her. John stepped in behind her and pulled her into his chest, where she rested her head against his shoulder.

His hand moved to lay on the expanse of her stomach, lightly rubbing the area as she nuzzled into him. She finally felt happy, and content with herself. The insecurities that previously burdened her mind were forgotten, and the only thing she could focus on was John, and how he lovingly held onto her. She knew the thoughts would eventually return, and that they would try their very hardest to be the only thing occupying her mind. But she also knew John would be there to put a stop to them every single time.  

“Thank you, John,” she whispered into the silence.  

All he did in return was press his cheek against the top of her head and hum as he pulled her in even closer towards him. He didn’t say anything, and he didn’t need to, because his actions spoke louder than words ever could.  

[bluegiragi]

monster!au sketchdump #2

1-2: monster swap!! purely indulgent, since if they were actually these monsters from the start, they'd all have turned out different.

3: price in his prime! he was a real tank, but he grew out of his destructive phase.

4: preening time with gaz <3

early access + nsfw on patreon

[bigassmoonchild]

price loves you. he does, he loves you with all of his being. but sometimes, he gets so scared. sometimes, things happen and all he can do is stare while you sleep, trying to memorize your face like it’s the last time he’ll ever see it.

the last mission had him writing a note, one he was hoping would never be found on his body, one he hoped you’d never read. and when he got home to you, he tucked it under a few loose items in a drawer you hadn’t gone into.

my love;

if you’re reading this, i’m gone. you are the one person who i would do anything to protect, you have become the reason i am fighting to keep people safe at night.

i hoped i would eventually fight to make the world safer for our kids, but clearly that hasn’t happened. maybe it has, but not soon enough. i can only wish to watch over them, as i will always watch over you.

you are the world to me, and if it means dying for the world, i would do it everyday. i truly hope you can eventually move on, find a person and settle down with them and create your own little family with someone who isn’t constantly fighting off death itself, but i can only hope.

keep living, my love, and keep dreaming.

forever yours, John.

he’d found you, sitting on the floor of the kitchen and sobbing, note pressed against your chest. he couldn’t do much other than watch you, for a few moments, before kneeling down and pulling you to him.

he hadn’t even gotten out of his uniform, nor had he taken his boots off. he pulled you close and listened to you sob into his chest, your hands pulling the shirt tight into them.

‘i’m here, love,’ he whispered into your hair.

‘i thought you’d died, john,’ you whispered back, glossy eyes staring up at him. he gave you a smile, pressing a kiss to your hair.

he leaned back and wiped your tears. ‘i should’ve burnt that letter,’ he said, pulling you up and throwing it in the trash. ‘i wrote that a few missions ago, one where i hadn’t thought we’d make it out,’

you leaned into his chest, listening to his heart beat steadily. he was still here, breathing and holding you in his arms. his hands rubbing your back, your sobs turning to hiccups which turned into deep breaths.

‘i won’t go out easy,’ he murmured. ‘i’ll fight until my last breath, just to make it back to you,’

[vixen7243]

Bubbly

John Price x AFAB!Reader

Self indulgent, needy, tired, needing a big bear to make me relax ramble... Enjoy🙌

MDNI!!!

The week had been unbearably long, people being rude, condescending, loud ignorant and testing your last nerve. The only thing really kinda holding you together the whole time is knowing that this weekend John had promised he cleared his schedule and the two of you were going to go on a little road trip together, to no where specific, just using it as an excuse to get away together. Although you thought you had cleared a shitty week without snapping or breaking, your boss had pushed you over the edge, humiliating you in front of your coworkers blaming you for something that you had nothing to do with, yelling right in your face, while then pulling you into his office to make back handed apologies and hitting on you, making you sick.

Getting into your car to head home, you let a few aggravated tears fall freely not caring to try and hold yourself together any more, you couldn't. Pulling into the drive you wiped your cheeks, grabbing your bags you got out and made your way inside, dropping your bags with a huff. Making your way into the living room meeting John half way you slumped into him, head resting into his pecs, shaking your head slightly into them, shutting the world off now that you were in his arms. John didn't miss your red eyes, or flushed cheeks as you walked to him, giving you a moment to just relax in his arms before he questioned what happened, he squeezed you into him kissing the top of your head.

"Hello my darling, how was your day?"

"Shit."

John hummed, squeezing your sides, not pulling away till you do, and once you did he cupped your cheeks, thumbs swiping under your eyes feeling the still present tears. Scowling slightly he held on as you tried to pull away, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not yet, I'll only break down before getting anything out."

Nodding his head, he pulled you back to him picking you up bridal style, "Come with me, I'll draw you a bath." Smiling at him you wrapping your arms around his neck kissing his cheek, letting him carry you down the hall to your shared room, sitting you on the counter in your bathroom, he went to the tub, clogging the drain, and turning the water on, holding his hand under the running water waiting and making sure it was the perfect temperature, then pouring in bath salts, bubbles and a sparkly soup bomb. Turning back to you, he slowly undressed you, kissing every inch of exposed skin as he went, it wasn't sexual but more sensual and sweet as he went, pleasant praise drifting from his lips making you smile down at him as he slowly raised himself.

Grabbing a hold of your hips he picked you up again and brought you to the tub, gently helping you ease into the water, letting the water fill up a bit more, he took your hair out of the messy bun, grabbing your brush, he slowly worked through the knots and gently brushed your hair before helping you get it wet and massaging your scalp. After work every inch of your scalp he turned the water off, as he was about to kneel to massage the rest of your body you looked up to him blissfully, "Will you join me John?"

Never being one to tell you no, he striped off his clothes and carefully got in behind you, pulling your back flush against his hair chest, kissing your shoulders. "You're so beautiful, is there anything you want specifically for dinner?" Shaking your head you rested your arms on his thighs, squeezing his knees smiling as his hands starting working on massaging your back, shoulders, neck, arms. You were starting to feel like putty in his hands as you let him rub you down, when his hands got to your waist, you couldn't help the wetness of your cunny, and not referring to the bath. Rubbing your own hands slowly up and down his thighs, or at least as much as you can reach, you moaned when his hands pushed into the apex of your thighs and hips. Squeezing his thighs close to your hips you turned your head looking up into his eyes, kissing him softly, before leaning back up and kissing him again longer. Pulling back you continued to look up at him as his hands moved to between your thighs...massaging between them, fingers working small circles into your clit, and others dipping slowly into you curling and turning rubbing as much as they could reach. "Oh, darling."

Pouting up to him, you twisted you arm to behind you, feeling his twitch cock against your back, grazing it with your hand, "John." Kissing him again you moved your hips more into his hands when you felt him push a few fingers into your g-spot, making your toes curl slightly and widen your legs. His fingers slowly worked you up to a orgasm that rolled over you like a wave, it was a slow roll through you as he continued to work you through it. Sliding away from him momentarily, you turned, facing him, the water sloshing around the both of you, moving your legs to either side of him, laying over the front of him, bubble's sliding down your breasts. Grabbing onto his shoulders you leaned forward, kiss slow and gentle as he grabbed onto your waist with one hand and his other going back to your core, fingers working to gently stretch you and prep you, and anytime you would try to rush the kiss and move your hips fast against his hand, he would pull back whispering to you, "Slow darling, slow. I got you."

The pace was driving you insane, but you appreciated the attention he was giving to make sure you were properly relaxed and cared for. Feeling the knot in your tummy form you tried your best to not rush through the orgasm, huffing against his lips trying to keep the kiss going through it. "God, John, please, I need you, please just..."

Sliding you up his body, he guiding his dick right up to you, helping you slide down, seating you perfecting on him, both of you groaning as you slowly rocked yourself on him. "There you go darling." Whimpering you leaned back into him, still not feeling close enough to him, you held him, pushing your hands into his hair as his arms wrapped around you holding you to him steadily. Feeling that you were trying to quickly grind into him, he continued to slow you down, "Slow darling, slow, we've all night, for now, just feel." Letting his arms guide the pace you listened to him, slowing down and just feeling,

Loosing yourself into him, you felt so full of him, grateful that he knew you inside and out, easily wiping your mind clear of everything and making you be the center of everything. After breathing into each other and taking in everything, you could feel that heavy, blissful end slowly building in you, as his cock twitched against your cervix, pushed down into him a little more you grunted, your walls tightening hard around him, hips rutting uncontrollably against him, eye brows scrunched as you came, feeling him also cum inside you.

Stilling you slid down him slightly, his cock still buried in you, the both of you rested in the water, the silence comfortable to the both of you. No longer caring about the week, or anything that had happened that day, you felt better being there in his arms. "I love you John."

"I love you more darling."

[midnightdjarin]

TF141 hurt/comfort drabble bc Im once again sad

Price is absolutely devastated whenever you’re sad. He’s the type to literally sit there and wipe your tears away while asking in a soft voice “What can I do?” I just KNOW that he’s the type of man to whisper things to you while holding you. “Everything will be alright”, “Let it all out”, “I’m always here for you”, things like that.

Ghost either goes into a quiet panic in his head or insists the names of any person who made you the least bit sad, no in between. The type of man to comfort you, but help you collect yourself at the same time. “You’re my tough girl” leaves this man’s mouth MANY times while he gives you soft kisses on your forehead.

Soap will quite literally do anything and everything to make you not sad anymore. He’s the type to, instead of sit and comfort you, take you somewhere to get your mind off of things. You want ice cream? Done. You wanna go to your favorite restaurant? Done. I’m CONVINCED that his love language is quality time.

Gaz is the type of man who knows EXACTLY what to do and how to take care of you. He’ll sit and listen to you while you tearfully explain why your day went so badly, then he’ll hug you and start telling you optimistic things like “Tomorrow will be so much better” or “Your days won’t always be like this”. I’m 100% CERTAIN that Gaz is WONDERFUL at giving advice. Also calls you “love” throughout the entire convo.

[clementine-thedestroyer]

Sometimes, I wish I was as important as your email inbox - John Price x reader

Warnings/tags: Hurt comfort, could be considered angst. Miscommunication(?) established relationship, fem!reader. This was supposed to be pwp... then it turned in to this unholy abomination of hurt comfort because I have daddy issues and can’t fucking do this.

In which, Price has been a bit extra busy with work, and reader feels a bit… alone.

You open the door and step out of the bathroom, tugging your towel tighter around yourself as the steamy warmth from your shower mixes with the relatively cold air of the bedroom.

Price is sitting on your bed, leaning against the headboard with his legs stretched out and phone in hand as he scrolls through the device- likely for something work related. When he sees you step out of the bathroom, his eyes flit towards you and a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. 

You hadn’t expected him to be home yet. For the past week, he’d been leaving early and getting back late. Usually, he left early enough that it was still dark outside, and that the only goodbye you’d get was a gentle nudge to wake you up and a kiss on the forehead- followed by a goodbye and a reassurance he’d be back before you knew it. You knew he had to go, it was some week-long training he was helping to administer- but that didn’t help to soothe the loneliness that came with an empty house and waking up to a cold spot where your husband usually lay. 

Most of the time, it was dark again by the time he got back. And he was too exhausted to do much more than shower, collapse into bed next to you, and mumble a few “love you’s” before tugging you against his chest and using you as a body pillow for the night.

Tonight though, he was home earlier than usual.

Not by much- it was still late, and had you been given another thirty minutes, you’d probably have been curled up in bed and- judging by how exhausted you felt- probably completely passed out. And of course- though he may be home earlier than expected… he wasn’t really free. The texts, emails, and paperwork were what most commonly followed him home from work- and it was stupid to be jealous of paperwork or goddamn Gmail. You knew that. You told yourself that constantly. You also constantly reminded yourself that you chose this, you knew what you were getting into with this man. But that didn’t help how starved you’d become for his touch and affection. And it certainly didn't help the nights where you would fall asleep next to your Price, yet feel more alone than ever- because there was something heartbreaking about falling asleep feeling cold, lonely, and unwanted, with the man you loved right next to you- but too busy with what felt like constant work.

Although… As much as you hated those nights, it was still better than when Price would come back with new injuries and guilt weighing heavy on his shoulder.

Today had been a bit of a rough day for you. Tiering, to say the least… especially now, as you realized tonight was shaping up to be one of the ones that hurt the most. And despite the guilt you felt at not even attempting conversation with Price after nearly a week of only goodbyes and goodnights, you really wanted nothing more than to put on your comfiest pajamas and curl up for sleep. 

You missed him dearly, but you were too emotionally and mentally drained to figure out what to do about it. Frankly, this was the only thing your exhausted self could think to do: go to sleep and hope that the rest of this (particularly) dreadful week passes quickly.

As exhausted as you may be… you also know that Price is probably about to stand up to take a shower of his own now that you’re out, and that by the time he’s done, you’ll probably be asleep- so you stifle a yawn and pad over to Price.

Once at Price’s side of the bed, you lean over to press a kiss to his forehead- a hand held over your chest to keep your towel from falling down when you do so. “Goodnight.” You mumble, stumbling a bit when you get a head rush as you try to stand back up.

When you start to sway, Price frowns and reaches out, placing a steadying hand on your upper hip. “You alright’, Love?” He asks, forehead knitted in worry.

You nod, ducking your head a bit and pressing a hand against your temple as you wait for the momentary dizziness to pass. “I’m fine, just stood up too fast.” You murmur, silent for a moment as you take a deep breath and start to straighten up.

From where you stand, you can see that Price’s phone is, in fact, open to his email inbox- and you can’t help the frown that accompanies the pang of dejection that shoots through your chest.

“You sure?” Price asks, his concern seemingly only growing as he speaks. “You look a bit off-color.”

You nod your head “yes”, trying your best to simply put Price’s worries to rest. You do know that you should talk to him, that you should take this opportunity to tell him how you feel, that you should stop this spiral you're in. But… you’re tired. Tired physically, tired mentally, tired emotionally- You’re just fucking tired, and everything feels like it’s all going shit. 

The hand on your hip moves upwards, and a strong arm wraps around your waist and gently tugs you down. You land with a bit of a bounce onto Price’s lap- his arm around your waist bracing you and keeping you upright as his other one comes up to press the back of his hand against your forehead.

“Bloody hell, you’re burning up.” Price says, the worry lines on his forehead deepening as he quickly drops his phone. “You sure you’re feeling alright?” He asks again, clearly not believing your early assertion of “fine”.

“‘Not sick, just took a hot shower.” You mumble, leaning into his hand where it still rests on your forehead- letting out a deep breath at the touch and letting your heavy eyes drift shut.

Price is clearly unconvinced- looking just as worried as before as he moves one hand to your upper back and the other to the nape of your neck- pulling you close and lifting your hair out of his way so he can check once again for a temperature.

The hand against your forehead must've broken something in you, because from that moment on you feel like a damn had burst. Like all the effort you’d been putting into hiding how bad you’ve needed this is violently swept away and forgotten. Even when you loop your arms around his neck and pull yourself against him, you’re not close enough. No matter how much of you is touching him, you need more. No matter how much you press your face into his chest or the crook of his neck, you can still see the lights from the bedside lamp, smell the soap you used in the shower, and hear the neighbor's dog barking at god knows what. And that’s wrong- because all you want in this moment is Price. You want to be held impossibly close to him, you want your everything to be only him, just for a moment.

You don’t hear what he says, but you feel him take you by the shoulders and gently to get you to look up at him.

In response, you only whine and squeeze him tighter, pressing your face deeper into his neck and shaking your head no. 

He gets the hint- a deep sigh leaving his body as you feel him relaxing beneath you. You feel him press a kiss to the top of your head and you feel two large, warm, calloused hands slip under your thighs and lift- moving you so you’re straddling his thighs.

“Comfortable, Love?” He asks- to which you nod, goosebumps rising along your body as the air from the fan, even on its lowest setting, feels frigid against your still slightly damp skin- your towel from a moment ago having fallen as Price moved you. A hand runs along your arm, warming the skin slightly as you feel Price shift underneath you in preparation to stand up. 

“Do you want me to get you some clothes?” He asks- to which you, again, shake your head in response. This time, side to side as a “no”.

Price chuckles, the vibrations of his laugh traveling between you as he sets a hand on his nightstand, using it to support himself as lifts you two and yanks the covers out from where he had been sitting on them- settling back down and pulling them up to cover the two of you.

The comforter on you two’s bed is big and fluffy- perfect at trapping body heat and warming you up quickly. It’s probably your favorite blanket in the whole house, and you’ve been known to drag it out of the bed and curl up with it on the couch whenever you’re sick or it’s cold enough outside that the heater can’t keep up. Being wrapped in it is enough for you to- gradually- begin to loosen your hold on Price. Eventually, you’re not so much clinging to him as much as you’re simply draped over him.

But even when you release your death grip, Price doesn't try to get you up. He lets you stay, keeping you pressed close against his chest and your head resting on his shoulder. He keeps one hand under the blanket, resting on your lower back- occasionally stroking at the soft skin with the pad of his thumb or idly tracing the dips and rises of your body as you drifted in and out of sleep. In his other hand, he held his phone. Likely going through emails or doing something or other work related. 

You drifted between varying levels of sleep and awakeness as he held you. Whenever your head would start to slip from where he’d propped it up against his shoulder, he’d pause from his work to gently set it back and make sure you were doing okay. He’d often press sweet, loving kisses to the top of your head, cheek, or temple, or give gentle, protective squeezes to your waist whenever he felt you stir awake, and he’d speak soothingly and stroke your hair whenever you started mumbling half-asleep words to yourself or him. 

At one point, you started drifting deeper and deeper to sleep- waking up less and having fewer moments of half-awake confusion after being moved or repositioned- only to later wake up flat on your back - now dressed in some pajamas- and with Price slowly pulling away from you.

You jerk awake, gasping for breath as you immediately latch onto the part of Price that’s closest to you- which turns out to be an arm. You immediately find him back at your side, tears running down your face as you beg for him to stay.

You have his right arm in a white-knuckled grip, and his other one is behind your back, holding you up as he looks down at you- the most worried you’ve ever seen him. 

“Shh, you’re okay- I’m right here.” Price says, his look of concern only worsening as you let go of his arm in favor of clinging to his torso.

“D-Don’t go!” You sob, the burst of adrenaline from waking up and thinking he was leaving flushing through your body and leaving you shaky and with a pounding heart.

“I’m not going to leave, Love.” he reassures you, one of his hands petting your head, his beard scratching at your cheek as he holds you close in an attempt to comfort you. “But you have to tell me what’s wrong.”

You don’t respond, hiding your face against him.

He pulls away, cupping your cheek gently and making you look at him. “Sweetheart, I’m worried. You wouldn’t talk at all once you got in my lap, and you freaked out when I tried to set you down. I need you to talk to me.”

You pull your face away, going back to hiding against his chest… but eventually nod.

Price is silent for a moment- thinking before he speaks again

“Did someone hurt you?”

A quick shake of your head “no” and a heavy sigh of relief from Price.

“Is it something that happened at work?”

Another shake of your head “no”.

“Is it something that I did?”

You hesitate… 

Your lack of answer tells Price enough, and a kiss is pressed to the top of your head. Had you moved your face from where you were hiding it, you would have seen not only the look of absolute love he was looking down at you with, but the thinly veiled guilt he held as he watched the way you clung to him.

“I figured, love.”

You hiccup, choking on your own tears as you do and starting to cough. Price rubs soothing circles into your back as you try to catch your breath.

“I know, I know. This training thing is hard, and I should've done better at making sure my girl was okay. I’m sorry, love.”

“Y-you don’t have anything to be sorry f-”

Price cuts you off with a stern look. 

“None of that, now. I should’ve made more of an effort to be there for you.” He pauses, kissing you sweetly before continuing. “I love you so, so much, and I’m so sorry I let you forget that and that I let things get to this point, okay?”

“I love you too- “ You say softly, sniffling and trying to wipe away some of your tears- only for Price to come in with a tissue and gently start to blot at your red and blotchy face.

“I’m sorry for not talking to you about it…” You mumble, your face heating up as you try to take the tissue from Price to dry your own face, but failing to do anything more than get him to laugh a bit and start teasing you by keeping the tissue away.

“Tomorrow is the last day of the training, I’m going to take the day after off, and we’re going to do something, okay?” He says, laughing softly before letting you have the tissue and kissing you on the cheek.

Price’s hand finds yours, and he laces you two’s fingers together before pulling your still interlocked hands up and pressing a kiss to the back of yours. 

“And I’m not just sorry about this week, I’m sorry about recently in general. I’m going to be better about making sure I make time and showing you how much I care for you, okay?”

You nod, giving one final wipe to your face before you started squirming in his hold in an attempt to sit up a bit more.

“I’m going to be better too- I’m not going to bottle things up… and I’m going to try harder to tell you when I’m feeling like something’s wrong instead of letting it get like this…”

Pride tugs Price’s smile wider, and he brushes a strand of hair out of your face- tucking it behind your ear before pressing yet another kiss to your face.

“Thank you, Sweetheart. I’m glad.”

You smile, feeling like a weight has been lifted after your cry and conversation with Price. You wrap your arms around his waist, squeezing him as tight as you possibly can in an attempt to convey how thankful you are. Of his patience, of his kindness, of him.

“I love you,” You say into his chest as you squeeze him

He lets out a soft “oof” at your squeeze, huffing in amusement before wrapping his own arms around you and giving you a (far from full strength) squeeze of his own.

“I love you too.”

[dmitriene]

living far away out from the town with cowboy!price, where landscapes, instead of wooden shops and small decrepit houses turn into boundless, bright green meadows with fragrant flowers and ploughed dark land.

with a small, comfortable cottage with its own small, but good farm with fattened cattle, a small stable and even garden beds for planting, a place where there will definitely be something to do, with john on your side, his heavy hand on the curve of your waist like an anchor.

with lazy mornings under the dim rays of the sun shining through the thin, fluttering curtains, the sharp sound of your spacious bed thumping against the wall reverberates through the bedroom, as john's hairy, bulky body bends over you, strong hands grip the headboard almost till it's cracks, while his broad hips jerk forward.

with your head tilted back onto the soft pillows with melodious, whiny moans slipping past your swollen lips and past the wide open window, john's bushy pelvic brushing against your slick folds as he rearranges your silky cunt, his fat cock pumping into your cervix and your gooey, pulsing walls clenching around him deliciously tightly.

both of you barely speak, all that escapes from your kissed lips are moans and chesty growls, as your nails dig into his back, leaving thin, fresh scarlet scratches on top of his old scars, as john bends further to lick into your panting, slacked mouth.

this is all you could possibly dream of, a quiet life on the outskirts, which will probably become less peaceful in a couple of years, when john will impregnate you with sweet, chubby kids.

✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3.

[synthe4u]

masterlist

A knock sounded through the room.

"Yes?"

"Everything alright in there, love?"

You had been doing your makeup. It was your anniversary after all. It also celebrated him coming back in one piece, other than the slightly burnt and uneven beard he sported. He still wouldn't tell you how it happened.

"Yeah!"

He said something you couldn't quite hear before he opened the door. Walking over to you, he put his arms around your waist.

He kissed your head before murmuring, "Hey love."

You were still doing your makeup and forgot to reply to him. Maybe it was when you took too long to reply that he really took a closer look at what you were doing.

"Really? Mascara? You don't need that."

You remembered how he hadn't known what mascara was at the beginning of your relationship. He always said he called it, "Oil for eyelashes," which he blamed on Laswell. You talked with Laswell about it before and she said she told him that on April Fools. It was a funny moment when you told him when it was called Mascara.

"I do, it's our anniversary!"

"No, you don't," he looked down at his watch, "Love, the dinner is for 8."

"And? It's 7."

"It takes an hour to get there."

"We have time. Just use your secret agency sources and your UFO."

You always joked about his job and if they included UFOs. You didn't exactly know much of what he did, but the UFOs are a funny joke.

He frowned and you noticed. You put the mascara down since you were done.

"Don't frown, you'll get wrinkles faster."

You followed the frown lines that were on his face before they smoothed out into a smile.

He looked at you with such loving eyes that you considered for a moment you didn't need any makeup to feel love from this man.

Though, you still wanted to put on lipstick.

"I'll be ready, right after this."

Right after you put on the final touch, you moved to kiss him which he gladly returned. It was only right after when he looked in the mirror that he realized you rubbed your lipstick off on him.

You giggled at the sight, "Sorry, I guess there was too much lipstick."

(Author's note: Oof, I keep thinking about proper english so I keep thinking of the way official books write which may have messed me up.)

[vampykween]

can’t get vampire!price out of my head. he finds you in the woods near the ominous castle he resides in. you’re frightened beyond words and you’re bloody and bruised - upon instinct he was ready to sink his teeth into you but instead decides he’d much rather keep you.

you’re reluctant but don’t have much fight in you to stop him from carrying you over his shoulder back to his fortress.

you end up meeting vampire!ghost, price’s little protege who is the best boy and will do anything to please. including taking the best care of their new precious gift.

you spend your days being fucked and feasted on by the two of them. joyous and content to be a good little pet to your wonderful creatures of the night.

[wishfuldivine]

Gaz being cuddled by his 141 boyfriends for comfort?

The sergeant felt like his heart was breaking. Never in a million years did he think he'd be in this situation before. Where a small mistake nearly cost the entire mission.

He had gone dark on comms upon infiltrating a facility to gain some important intel. Something the captain had clearly told him not to, but being the stubborn person he is, didn't listen. His desperation to get this done and get out safely played a huge reason.

His mind was too preoccupied to notice an enemy closing in on him. If it wasn't for Ghost, who had been on overwatch, he'd be dead. He resumed with the objective, and everything went smoothly after that.

Usually, he'd be one to let it go, but the fact that he disobeyed and got a mild scolding from his captain made him feel extremely shitty. So much so that he walked around with shoulders sagged and began ignoring everyone for the remainder of the week.

That is, until Soap had enough of seeing his precious boy like that and set out a plan. He asked Gaz to meet him in the rec room so they could talk about something concerning him - Gaz has always been a landing ear and shoulder no matter what. And today wasn't any different.

Gaz went and met up with Soap. Ever the sweetheart on putting others before himself. Not knowing that Ghost and Price would be there too.

"What is this?" He had questioned, looking around at his three boyfriends with a confused yet distressed expression.

"I'm sorry, love. But we just wanted to talk to you." The deep and gruff voice of Ghost.

"We know you've been avoidin' us. Couldn't take it." Price added afterward.

"Please talk to us." Soap pleaded next.

Gaz stared at them for a couple of moments in silence before speaking. He told them how he felt. How disappointed he was at himself. That he should've done better. Maybe he's not worthy to be on the team.

That did it. They didn't let him talk any longer. They instead rushed him towards the bed and cuddled him tightly. Soft kisses and words of reassurance were given. No matter what happens, Gaz will always be on the team. He'll always be their precious boy.

It made Gaz cry. And even then, they wiped his tears away and continued to love him.

[tanked-up]

Now… who tf the captain here?

[rodolfoparras]

I fully believe this is Price.

At first he’s the one in control, the one in control of his emotions while you’re not shy to share how good he’s making you feel, the one to control the pace of his hips, the one to control if you get to cum or not, the one who’ll have you shaking under him even if he’s the one practically speared onto your dick, the one who’ll tell you to go harder even if you’re practically making an indent in the mattress by fucking him,

But at some point he lets you take over, stops giving directions in order to focus on the pleasure you’re giving him, loses himself in your touch and kiss as a light headed feeling comes over him

He feels so light so afloat clawing at your back and digging his heel into your ass doing anything to not lose his mind, he doesn’t even register the tears trickling down his cheeks, doesn’t even register that he’s smiling but you do, and you’re quick to kiss his tears away, holding him tighter while whispering sweet nothings into his ear

[bigassmoonchild]

Gentle

Pairing: Task Force 141 (not specified) x Reader

Wordcount: 891

Summary: You were always gentle, no matter the situation. Even if he didn't notice until now.

Content Tags: Fluff, Reminiscence, Interactions with Children, Canon Typical Violence, Mentions of Human Trafficking, Heavy Angst, Hurt/No Comfort, Mentions of Death, No Use of Y/N

A/N: Just a drabble ;). Maple Syrup will be updated most Fridays/Saturdays. I don't have the time during the regular week to be able to take the hours needed. You are more than welcome to request something! I'm encouraging it! As always, content under the cut and requests are open <3.

He wished he could've known you. More than the violence you used to get through missions, more than how big you made yourself seem when out at a bar after a mission with the 141. And when he really thought of it, he knew what you truly were.

Gentle. Not a word often used to describe military personnel. But you? That was one of two words anyone could've used.

It was a silent mission. Just something to pick up intel quietly and leave, nothing else. You were outside a coffee shop and he watched a little boy run up to you, stopping directly in front of where you sat. You gave him such a big smile, leaning down and listening to what he said into your ear.

You leaned further to grab his jacket and get the zipper to zip, rubbing his shoulders for a second before sending him back off. If the boy knew exactly what you had under your own jacket, he would've ran off screaming.

But he didn't, because you knew what you were doing when it came to kids. They understood when you were direct, and you always were. It was never trying to reach the point in a way you would assume that they'd understand, but in a way that any normal person would understand.

You didn't underestimate their knowledge. All people learned in different times so you assumed that the kid would understand what you said. It wasn't a bedazzled explanation with butterflies and puppydogs, it was straight to the point.

During another mission, in the middle of securing a safehouse you struck a man, knife sliding through his neck like butter and you were able to turn, grasp on the knife tightening before you saw the little girl. She was curled up into a ball, hands above her head as if to protect herself.

Even with bloody hands, you had pulled her into you and brought her to the safe point. Even covered in blood and grime she let you sit her on your lap in order to check her over for marks and possible wounds, happily speaking to you and allowing you to mess with small scrapes she had on her elbows. You had to hand her over once you got off the plane, allowing protective services to take her from you.

You'd mentioned a few weeks ago that you kept in touch with her, and the little girl was now going into year ten. You'd had such a nice, gentle smile on your face as you recalled the girls boyfriend, how he would buy her flowers randomly. He didn't mind how you'd mentioned you would do some unspeakable things to him if he hurt her.

Even when you shot a man point blank, you took your time to ensure the body was out of the way, to not get trampled over. You respected the dead, no matter if the dead had been shooting at yourself and the rest of the 141.

And as gentle as you were, you were equally violent and angry. The only time any of them had seen you like that was during a mission busting a child-trafficking ring. There was no respect, there were no mercy kills. You shot where they'd take ages to bleed out from and made sure they hurt while doing it.

When you'd finally finished off the last man, releasing the kids from where they'd been chained up, you'd given them little smiles and spoke oh so nicely. Follow this big, scary man now. He won't let anyone hurt you, you'd told the first group.

He wasn't sure what happened when you'd disappeared for some time. You didn't talk about it and he learned to not mention it. All he knew is that when you came back outside just a little bloodier, your eyes didn't have you in them.

It was when the kids had smiled and waved at you that you came out of it. Your smile, this time, hadn't gone to your eyes like it usually did. You waved back, letting them hold your hands if they wanted to and making sure they had what they needed while waiting for a medevac.

Water, food, just a hug. You did whatever they needed and didn't let anything stop you. He'd tried, sure, but you wouldn't rest until you knew the kids were completely safe.

So as he sat there, coughing up blood, he could only think of how gentle you would be. How you would try and tell him that he'd be okay, that there was nothing to worry about. That the blood was natural and that he was going to be fine, you're going to be fine, god damnit. Open your eyes!

And maybe he had closed his eyes, but either way his vision had tunneled too much for him to see. He could feel your hands, gently trying to stop the blood as you felt the tears pouring down your cheeks. There wasn't much you could do, you knew. You didn't want to give up, your mind racing even as your hands found his and you held them, grip gentle.

Because that's what you were. No matter what, you'd be gentle to those who needed it. And maybe you would be just as gentle with the next person who came into your life.

[asterdisaster06]

Rottweiler's Callsign Story

platonic 141 x reader

summary > The mission was supposed to be an easy in and out stealth operation; however, you getting cornered by enemy guards that weren't drawn out by the team's distraction left you to desperation. Such circumstances resulting in unsavory acts needed to get out alive and back to your team. Half the blood on you might not even be yours, but you're out alive and safe.

word count > 5.6k

warnings > graphic description of blood and violence, like i'm not kidding. medical terms used to describe some of the gore. reader is described like a feral dog.

ao3

You had always been quite animalistic in your ways, vocal on the battlefield with snarls and hisses escaping your lips through the sheer effort of your tyranny. Grunts and growls being a point made to enemies you faced before absolutely thrashing them to death. Your skills with a gun whether a handgun or an assault rifle were top tier, your training made sure of it, but your real talent laid in hand to hand combat. Specializing in utilizing your own body and surroundings to tear your enemy down. It was something that had confused and yet impressed your teammates on the taskforce. They stared at you with something akin to visceral horror and pure adoration when you save their asses more than they can count. 

Whether that comes from tackling the one on top and pinning them by their throat or managing to spot an enemy that they had missed on their six. Either way, any way, they were significantly impressed by you and your prowess. Your expertise offered something new to the group. Your bones held your pride that was either to be completely snapped or remain unwounded. Your muscles flexed to show the pride that was your mortal self. Your teeth were bared to the world like a stray dog. And in a sense, that was what you were.

You were found by Laswell and Price with your fur matted and your teeth too sharp from eating trash-thrown bones. Metaphorically of course. Literally though, they were your saviors. She took you off the previous military base you would’ve died on and Price raised you like his own flesh and blood. He took the limping, ugly mutt and showed a kindness you had always heard directed at others but never you. You learned to not bite at the hand that feeds you. 

The others came later once you were settled in - learning very little of your past; only knowing what you had seethed through tight lipped smiles. At that point you were known simply as ‘hound’ to them. You’re not entirely sure how or when it came about, but it seemed to fit you for the moment. 

You weren’t exactly talkative, similar to Ghost in that aspect. That’s not to say that you didn’t learn to open up and trust, especially when you were on a mission that required trust and teamwork. Collaboration and communication were the foundation for the taskforce, and it wasn’t something you could opt out of. You mostly sat back and smiled at a few of the jokes shared, but the one time you spoke to add onto the dark humor from Simon scared the shit out of them. Even Simon was a little caught off guard despite his vehement denial. It was the start of the blossoming friendship between you and the team. 

This particular mission was no different than the others. Or at least, it shouldn’t have been. Unfortunately, the world had different plans in mind for you and the boys. 

Soap had been talking your ear off and you listened in with a small smile on your face at his antics. It was amusing to you that he wasn’t put off by your scars, both physical and mental. He looked past them, not quite ignoring them but not pushing for you to spill the story behind them all if you weren’t ready. You were forever grateful for that. Gaz was in a similar vein, learning to eventually see you for who you were. Sometimes he poked and prodded you, but only in the intentions of helping you. Especially when you refused to see a therapist. Not after the last incident.

Ghost respected you at face value. The mask was who you were to him, and it didn’t make a difference in the slightest for your identity. It was a refreshing contrast to the other two who were not exactly openly prying, but their curiosity emitted from them like radiation. And you didn’t need a geiger counter to see that being near them would eventually unravel your DNA containing your secrets. Ghost simply left your skeletons in the closet lie. A needed deviation in your life. 

This mission required you to sneak into the compound in order to collect intel about nuclear weapons that a recent terrorist group had gotten their hands on. Obviously, that was a paramount issue that Shepherd had wanted the taskforce to take care of. Your boys would be creating a distraction away from your position, eventually creating a path to your location for a safe exfil after they had planted bombs around the compound. This establishment wasn’t going to be left standing after you guys were done with it if you could help it. 

“Is everyone clear on their positions?” Price’s voice breaks through the disassociation your mind had thrust you into. 

The ringing in your ears faded as the chatter began to quiet down and focus was injected into your veins. There was a small nagging feeling in the back of your mind, but you brushed it off as simple leftovers of anxiety growing mold in the fridge of your consciousness. You responded with a simple affirm alongside the rest of the team, eyes beginning to lose the dazed look within the cornea. You blink once and then twice as you take in your surroundings and run your tongue over your sharpened canines. 

Your muscles tense with anticipation, letting your legs carry you out of the truck that was about one klick from the objective. You were to be going on foot from here to avoid raising suspicion. The treeline would offer some cover for the infiltration attempt, the leaves in full swing. Unfortunately that also meant so were the bugs and thorns. You would just have to deal with it, although Soap wasn’t so easily placated.

“Fucking hell,” Soap exclaims, swatting at a very vague buzz that was swarming him.

“Here,” Gaz says, throwing Soap a can of bug spray. 

The droning and whirl of wings belonging to insects that lived long before humanity came about offers you a weird amount of comfort. It’s almost a commiseration of sorts between the creatures that nobody wanted around. You and the acarids. Nonetheless, you cover yourself in a self assumed shield of the spray that sticks to your skin in a way that makes you almost uncomfortable. The thorns and sticks pricking you through your tactical gear brings you relief. The opposite from what you presumed the others were experiencing.

It’s not like you were a masochist, peace and comfort have just never quite been something you’ve gotten used to. It’s what you’ve known most of your life and it’s what you’ll continuously go through. Much to the chagrin of your boys.

Speaking of, they appeared to be having varying levels of reaction to the harsh woodland environment. Soap has been openly complaining, although you knew it was mostly to break up the monotony of the trip alongside easing the anxiety of the others. He knew just how to utilize his personality like that and he wasn’t scared to come off as brash or even semi-annoying. You try to humor him enough to keep that spark going in his soul. That’s honestly a thought that keeps you up at night; Soap becoming like you or Ghost.

Gaz was experiencing his classic bad luck; truly trying to avoid any muddy spots or tripping on an exposed root, but it appears that it wasn’t working out for him. He had tripped over his own feet two times, an exposed root five, and almost twisted his ankle thrice. It was almost as if the woods had it out for him. You wince and make that last thing four times now as Gaz tripped over a small pebble and had to execute an almost ballerina-esque move to avoid falling face first into a puddle. It made you huff out a laugh, earning you a middle finger in your direction. Gaz truly does try his hardest in everything he does, placing expectations upon himself that nobody else even thinks of. Pressure mounting upon him that moves you to make sure he takes care of himself. You’ll be damned if you let him drown himself in the same way you do. 

Ghost was similar to your apathy, although you could tell from his body language that he was in as much discomfort as Soap was expressing. He refused to let even a slip of a grunt or groan escape from his sealed lips. His combat boots were sinking into the mud as much as Gaz, but he had significantly more coordination and confidence in his steps than Kyle did. You observed him quietly, seeing thorns stick into his skin - likely releasing the red ichor of his mortal body. Nonetheless, he braved on with only a slight wince betraying his emotions. It reminded you of how he faces his own torment and demons with nothing showing to anyone around. Not unless they’re particularly attuned to him and his distinctive micro-expressions. You know this as well as anyone, so you make a conscious effort to try and get Simon to open up to you. Not a lot, and sometimes not at all, but enough to sand down the roughness around his edges. Enough to heal him one scar at a time. 

Price was admonishing Soap for being so loud and semi-obnoxious. All in good fun, at least, at the distance you were away from the location. Given that Price was back at the car, you couldn’t exactly see what he was doing or his own personal quirks. However, you had known him long enough to know his personality and behavior. You had spent a good chunk of time analyzing the man that had offered you not only a position on this team, but a hand to help you up from your back-alley way of living. He was a tired man that needed some positive affirmation in his life if you were being honest. He had this entire team on his back alongside his position that designated him to a life chained to his work. His title delegated him to the duress that came with everyone expecting victory from you. It’s probability is down right improbable for him to always come out on top. Although, you doubt that he’s come to terms with that idea. You try your best to offer support in your own way, realizing that words alone aren’t going to cut it. You try to guide him to sleep if he’s too caught up in paperwork or offer him a cup of coffee just the way he likes it if an all-nighter is inevitable. You want to be there for him like he is for you. 

Laswell’s voice cuts through the comms and snaps you from your stupor. Kate Laswell. She offered you kindness while others offered you chains. She let you into her life instead of caging you like a feral animal. She took the muzzle off of your maw and let you speak. She presented you with a purpose outside of being a killing machine for your previous team sent in with no regard for your health or happiness. She gave you a life. One of your own. A team that you could rely on with a street of protection that goes both ways. Possibilities were opened up that you had never dared to dream of beforehand. You owed her your life, and that’s what you fought with on every mission. 

“You’re closing in on the base. Can we get a general overview of how it’s going?”

You smiled and shook your head before the Scot even opened his mouth.

“How’s it going? Oh wonderful, absolutely joyous,” Soap spoke with mock annoyance, good-natured humor shining through despite his tone.

“All is well, the intel we were given appears to be good. There should be no difficulties from our view over here,” Ghost answers, genuinely. 

“Affirm, I’m all set and ready here, Kate,” Price speaks, his commanding timbre sending rumbles down your spine and through your nervous system. 

“Remember, get in and get out, don’t get caught up in the blast,” Kate reminds you all, as if you could forget. 

A chorus of proclaimed agreements echoes throughout the trees of the forest. The silence that falls over the group afterwards makes you tense up and get into the mindset of the feral mutt that has kept you alive for this long. Your breath ends up heavy, saliva coating the inside of your jaws as you harshly swallow it down - almost choking every time you do. Your shoulders rise and fall in time with your respiration. Ghost checks in with the group one last time before you’re sent off first into the craw of the compound. Being a sacrifice is nothing new to you, but it still causes you to shudder in anticipation. Goosebumps rise all across your skin despite the temperature dictating otherwise. 

You wander forward, joints creaking in protest as you sneak around the side of the building. It’s inevitable that you have to utilize your knife, but you use it sparingly - not wanting the alarms to ring because some unfortunate soul stumbles upon the body of their fallen comrade. It’s almost second nature to you at this point and you would’ve zoned off if it wasn’t for the pure adrenaline rushing through your system.  You finally reach point A in which you reaffirm with the rest of the boys that the plan is a go and no complications have arised. 

You hear a plethora of acknowledgements before you begin to move forward with the permission of Ghost and Price. You snake cam the door before lock picking it after deeming it safe. There didn’t appear to be any enemies nearby much to your satisfaction. The less possibilities for this plan to go wrong, the better. It’s a waiting game as you come upon the stairwell door leading up to the room you were meant to infiltrate. The clock ticks down, the beats of your heart sounding out in your ears as a unit of measurement. 

Boom.

It’s the signal for you to proceed as all of the cameras are abandoned with the clicking of the gun trigger replacing the clack of keys in the office. You were all set up and ready to acquire the real reason your mission was handed out. Pushing past into the stairwell, you’re met with the surprise of an elbow to the face, effectively causing a gush of blood to start trickling down your face. Despite the advantage the enemy had from his effort of concealment working to catch you off guard, you gained your balance back quickly, and the pounding of your head did nothing to quell the vexation that led you to putting a knife in the guy’s eye. You shoot a bullet straight into his cranium with a glare, just to cover your tracks. 

You lick your chapped lips, tasting the metallic mouthful you had gotten from your little scuffle. You didn’t hear a crack, but it was definitely going to be a pain in the ass the next day. Nonetheless, you pushed on, aiming to be more aware of your surroundings. There was an odd lack of guards around the area for what seemed like the main structure. It set off warning bells in your head, but there was no turning back now. From the gunfire sounding out from below it seemed that the others would be too caught up to engage in a verbal conversation regarding your worries. Not like you weren’t confident in your own abilities, quite the opposite, but Price had managed to drill into your head that not everything had to be faced alone. Jokes on him, this situation had the appearance of it being a one man operation. 

You and your blood soaked sleeves made your way to the computer where you gathered yourself into a semi-coherent being in order to upload data from their system. The hard part was already done for you; all you had to do was plug a hard drive into a computer and wait. And that you did. You almost felt sorry for getting their keyboard all slick with your carnage escaping from your sinuses. It also felt as if you had bitten your tongue during the altercation, your mouth being yet another outlet for the liquid escaping you. You spat on the floor, maroon saliva staining it. 

Running down your neck, the blood seemed to stop at that point, trickling off into a simple seeping of gore. You consider yourself lucky, just in time for the information to be uploaded onto the hard drive you were given. You report over to Price and Laswell, a slight lisp imbued into your words due to the tip of your tongue suffering from puncture wounds your teeth had embedded into the soft muscle. They understood you perfectly fine however, and you were instructed to continue with the orders you were given. At that moment however, the lack of communication on your part about your suspicions of an ambush was coming back to bite you in the ass. Almost literally. 

A gloved hand smothers your mouth, effectively suffocating you. If the arm around your throat and its connected hand stifling your ability to productively breath wasn’t enough, there was now a knife lodged in your side. Your attacker drove the knife you suspected he took from your gear even further into your abdomen, twisting it like he was wringing out the last of his laundry. Except you were the clothes and your blood was escaping you, much to your chagrin. Fortunately for you, this particular guard was practically brain dead when it came to medical knowledge, so you were pretty confident that you were going to live. That is, if you could escape without being asphyxiated to death. 

You maneuver your maw into an opportune striking position, opening your jaws like a dog being thrown a bone. The coincidental nature of that thought would’ve made you laugh if you weren’t currently on the verge of being slaughtered and gutted like a pig. You chomp down and dig your teeth into the metacarpals of his skeleton, relishing in his grunt of pain and attempt to recoil. You were like a dog with a bone though, and you’d be damned if anyone tried to take it from you. His attempt to pry your jaws open with the hand that soon abandoned the knife in your side after the puncturing of his palm. You ground your teeth into the fat of his hand before realizing the glove was going to be an issue. You turn your teeths’ attention to his exposed wrist, aiming for his radial artery. Unfortunately for him, your fangs found their intended target and perforated his skin. You threw your head back, grasping his arm with your other hands - clawing at it like a feral beast. 

You effectively were one, your mouth full of flesh and muscle that didn’t belong to you. Although, you suppose that one could argue it didn’t belong to him either. Not anymore. You spat out the pulp of tissue, realizing that he had let you go. You put a bullet right through his eyes, spraying blood and brain matter across the room. Well deserved for someone like him. You drive your boot into his lifeless corpse, really kicking the man while he was down. Your joke, although knowing nobody alive was around to hear it, made a hysterical laugh claw its way out of your throat. Your larynx had really betrayed your deranged and volatile behavior. Your manic nature had kept you alive so far, so you supposed you had only yourself to thank. 

You shoved your bloodied tongue around your mouth, hoping to wash out the taste of human flesh. It wasn’t the worst thing you’ve tasted - that goes to Ghost’s attempts at cooking - but it certainly wasn��t pleasant. You wiped your mouth against the back of your hand, quickly realizing that it too was bloody. Red wasn’t really your color right now, otherwise you would have appreciated the look. You quickly checked over your supplies, knowing that you could make due with anything around the room or at the very least your hands, but feeling comfort in the weight of the metal contraption that delivered death at a much quicker rate. Hemorrhaging from either a knife or a gun was much more effective than your bare hands. Or teeth. 

It appears that your enemies didn’t appreciate your sentiment though, ambushing you only to take away such things from your grasp. There were two this time. They almost reminded you of Soap and Ghost, if those two were actively trying to kill you. Your boys only sometimes did that, and most of the time it was pitiful attempts. You were actually the one that got quite a few new rules implemented during training - but seriously, who stops in the middle of a fight to ask if something is legal? No-one, which is exactly why you simply did what was necessary to survive, to quote verbatim what you had said to Price as your excuse when Soap had ended up in the med bay. 

Be that as it may, these guards weren’t who you thought them akin to. Therefore, everything was on the table. Especially since they had made the grave error of giving your standard weapons a place on the backburner. Now, the only thought in your mind was kill. At all costs necessary. Your sharpened canines glinted in the dim lighting with a scarlet staining the pearly white as your mouth opened. It’s unfortunate for them that they didn’t have a muzzle on hand. 

Before the one in front of you had an opportunity to shoot you through any vital organ, you used your body weight to shove the one holding you to the ground - the bullet whizzing above you. A guttural growl escaped your throat as you turned your attention to escaping the grasp of the poor soul restraining your body. You grasp his upper arm, twisting yourself to use his body as a human shield. It would’ve made you gag if this was the first time you’ve done this. Regrettably, you have quite a bit of experience in this particular experience. 

The bullets pierced the soon to be corpse of his comrade, narrowly avoiding you except for one that grazed your side. You really were losing a lot of blood today. Making your way to safety was your biggest priority; however, that was proving difficult with leftover guards that were actually doing their job semi-well. You untucked yourself from under the weight of the stiff remains and threw yourself at the unlucky fellow who had just run out of ammo in his weapon. A simple click is all you heard as the gun escaped his grasp in favor of his bare hands. You were thrown into a chokehold yet again. These guys really did like their chokeholds. His hand gripped the knife slick with your own blood from your hands and ripped it out, leaving you to bleed to death. His mistake though was only using one hand to contain your rage filled body made of torn flesh and bones. 

You tore yourself from his grasp, with the worst luck in all of history happening with the knife getting knocked down the stairwell - sounding like a fork being dropped in the sink on its way down. You were in no condition to run or even jump after it, and the only other weapon was out of ammo, so it seemed you were yet again stuck using your bare hands. They trembled as you gathered yourself, preparing yourself for what you were being forced to do in order to escape this ordeal alive. You settled your weight into your haunches and launched yourself at the enemy, vision bloodshot and tinted red. An animalistic growl escaped yourself, sounding almost like a hyena’s maniacal laugh. Your lunge proved fruitful as your claws came into contact with his facial features, digging into his eyes to blind him. The texture of the soft tissue under your sharpened nails flexed and then ruptured. The front layers of his cornea gave way to the gooey gel similar to egg whites that filled the orbs. 

A visceral scream escaped the man below you, causing Price to finally check in over comms. At least, you think so, it was getting hard to hear with the ringing in your ears. You didn’t respond either way.

You knew that even blind, the man was still a liability. Or maybe he wasn’t, but to your addled brain firing neuron after neuron that drove you with the only thoughts occupying you being: survive and kill; well, the feral nature of yourself pushed you to make sure he was dead. You had your training to thank for that. You knew that the rest of his body was protected by the structure of his epidermis, much to your dissatisfaction. Your thoughts wandered back to the first enemy you encountered as you loomed over the blinded man. Your mind was made up.

In a split second decision, you descended your fangs into his throat, sinking your teeth into his trachea and hearing a sickening squelch of his bare flesh. The muscles gave way as you shook your head like a rabid dog, separating his tissue from their home within his body. You didn’t stop until you felt his carotid artery begin to hemorrhage. You shakily stand up, staring at the massacre you had left behind. Your jaw would definitely be sore the next day. There wasn’t a surface of you that wasn’t absolutely drenched in blood, and you couldn’t tell where yours began and theirs ended. The corpse beneath you had stopped screaming after the first puncture of your teeth - at least, you’re pretty sure. The haze surrounding your mind made thinking about it too hard. It almost fills you with a sense of regret at letting the monster you once were out of their muzzle yet again. The halfway decapitated body was left as you limped down the stairs and out a back door. 

You shambled out into the woods, faltering only twice to prevent yourself from tripping since you’re pretty sure you wouldn’t be able to get up again after that. The rush of blood in your head faded as the sounds around you finally cascaded back into reality. You swore you could feel the dripping of blood spurting out of all open wounds in time with your heart. The chaos finally sunk in, the screaming over comms for your response demanding your attention.

“I’m,” You break up your sentence with a cough. “I’m fine,” Your voice sounds crackly and hoarse. Not that you’re surprised.

“Where the fuck are you, you were supposed to be out of there five minutes ago,” Price yells out over the radio. 

“I don’t exactly know. Somewhere out in the woods?” You respond, your head pounding.

“Ghost, find them!” Price had apparently discerned that you were in no condition to be taking in your surroundings accurately enough to ascertain an accurate location. 

“Fuck, I think I see them. Hound!”

You think you hear a faint yelling of your name, although it doesn’t quite register to your unhinged and disoriented brain. All you could tell through the muddy fog of your mind was a person. Enemy. Kill. Survive. Escape. You felt their hands on you, your throat closing up in response as you preemptively expected to be strangled half to death. You let out a snarl, baring your teeth and coming into contact with what you think is a hand. Either way, it doesn’t matter to you and you bite down with the force of a wild animal. A yelp is heard, only cementing your actions in your mind. 

“Calm the fuck down Sergeant.”

A voice cuts through the haze like a hot knife through butter. You fall limp in the grasp; whether it’s because you recognize the voice or you simply are accepting your fate is up in the air. Nonetheless, your surroundings begin to load in, your eyes stopping their constant darting around and focusing on a singular face. Or, faces. Ghost, Soap, and Gaz. They had found you. You were safe. You notice Soap has a bleeding hand - your own handiwork without a doubt. Guilt floods you, your behavior similar to a puppy hearing the words ‘bad dog’ for the first time in their life. 

“Hey, hey, you’re okay. You did great, Hound,” Soap begins to say. 

“Come back to us, Love,” Gaz whispers, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. 

“Shit, fuck, I’m sorry,” You cry out, finally feeling the effects of your pure exhaustion. 

“I don’t blame you, Jesus, you’re gonna have a hell of a story to tell us when you get all patched up again, Hound,” Soap exclaims.

“How much of this blood is yours?” Ghost finally cuts in.

“Not a lot, just where the knife was and I might’ve gotten shot.”

“Might’ve?” Soap laughs.

“Mission, guys,” Price finally interrupts. “I’m glad you’re safe, Hound.”

The mission continues, you leaning on Soap since you’re pretty sure stumbling down the stairs strained one of your ankles. You spewed out numerous apologies for his hand, but he didn’t want to hear any of it. The go ahead for the air team with Laswell to level the building was given, and the exfil point was finally reached by your ground group. At that point, you were barely conscious, hearing echoes of pet names assuring you only a little longer and to stay with them. They plagued the darkness that overtook you and greeted you as you woke up to the blinding light of the medical room. 

“Welcome back to the world of living,” Soap says. “The doctors hadn’t seen anything like you before,” He laughs. 

“Do you want to explain why they found human tissue in your mouth?” Ghost asks, his tone inquisitive.

“Shit man, let them have a bit of a break before we interrogate them,” Gaz chuckles, offering you some water, much to your appreciation. 

You gulp down the water like it was the last time you would ever get the precious liquid, your body thanking you. You sheepishly hand the empty cup back to an amused Gaz. You clear your throat, not quite ready to delve into the specifics of what you had to do to survive, but knowing you had to. Being open in communication was a non-arguable point to being a part of the taskforce. 

“Most of the blood on me when you found me was probably belonging to the man I might’ve,” You pause, “ripped the throat out of?” You rush that last part out as quickly as you could, knowing that despite your efforts, they’re going to question you.

Both Soap and Gaz’s eyes widened almost comically, both quickly exclaiming different curse words. One being Scottish curses that you could barely make out from his accent. The other being aggressively British expletives spilling out of Gaz’s mouth. Ghost simply looked upon you with what seemed to be both admiration and affirmation. You had known he would be the most likely to not be surprised at your actions. He knew what it was like to have an untamed beast within you. 

“What in the bloody hell did you say?” Price was apparently looming in the doorway, keeping himself hidden until this moment.

You cough, and ask “Is now a good time to mention I also might’ve done the same to a man’s hand?”

Soap had a horrified look upon his face. “You’re saying I could’ve lost my precious hand?”

You had almost forgotten about Soap’s injury, and stared at him with a semblance of guilt flashing across your face. 

“Yeah, sorry about that,” You say quietly. 

“What happened to the good ole knife or bullet?” Soap asked, offering you his bandaged hand to hold in an offer of forgiveness and trust.

“They stole my shit, and my knife ended up kicked down a staircase after it was ripped out of me,” You pouted, the drug concoction of morphine and other such things loosening you up to talk. 

“You’re quite a rabid beast, ain’t you?” Price said, his tone betraying the fact that he was in fact quite proud of you. It wasn’t meant in a derogatory way and you knew that. You smiled in his direction, jokingly baring your teeth at your Captain. 

“Aye, I think you’re more than a baying hound at this point. Maybe Rottweiler would serve you better. That mouthful of teeth sure does remind me of my childhood,” Soap says, shivering at the thought of being the victim of your maw. 

“I hate to think of the final view those soldiers saw of you,” Gaz laughs. 

“I think Rottweiler suits you,” Ghost says. “Fearless yet loyal.”

The rest of the team nods in agreement, surrounding you with support and love. Something that still unsettles you to this day, but not in the same way facing down the barrel of a gun would. It’s a warm embrace in front of a fireplace that sends a jolt of something new down your spine. A fondness spreading like wildfire, adoration deep seated in your bones to those around you. Just like a dog, you were a fierce protector of your family, but with them? You were a tender beast that rolled over at their feet. 

You couldn’t think of anything better than that thought which warmed your heart.