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youronlydarlin · 3 months

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warning: Sex pollen :), noncon/dubcon, some of them are mean on this one, horny desperate men going insane for your hole, not proofread 😭

Jus' over here havin thoughts about sex pollen infecting your favorite boy man

Finding yourself in the middle of a botched mission, you desperately try to open the door that separates you from your lover. You can hear him hacking, n coughing on the other side. N'd your sweet soul's nearly crying at the thought of what's happening to him. Is he dying !? Pink gas escapes from under the door and you don't even have the time to react before it suddenly opens.

Captain John Price who tries keep some of his composure. You must commend him for it, really. But you turn around to see if the coast's still clear and that's all it takes for his composure to break. Before you knew it you're being lifted into the air. Back pressed tightly against your Captain's chest while he holds you up with the back if your knees. He's got you in a full nelson :( And all of a sudden there's a knife in his hands. You cry out at the thought of what he could do to you but you're silenced the moment he uses it to rip an opening through your trousers, all the while he's rutting against your ass, cause he's just so pent up. Oh, you have to understand!

His dick is inside of you the moment it's freed. Tries to be considerate about it, gives you a few seconds to adjust before he's drilling into you with wild abandon. Fucks you so deep, there's a bulge in your tummy and spots in your vision. Sinks to the floor with you the moment he cums, holding you close to his chest and trying to come up with a decent enough explanation.

Simon "Ghost" Riley who let's out a loud grunt before falling on top of you. The impact makes your head spin, and it momentarily knocks the wind out of your lungs. His body crushes yours beneath the concrete floor and you don't have time to recover before the feeling of phantom hands start to roam your body. And you can no longer blame it on your fall, because your trousers are being ripped away by rough gloved hands.

Poor, little, you can't even object when he wrestles you into a mating press :( Shoving two of his thick digits inside of you with no warning. He's moving them in a scissoring motion, and you cant help but cry at the dry, and painful insertion. He's so mean!

"Shhh, puppy... 'I need this..." Doesn't even say please! Doesn't even give you a warning before the mushroom tip of his cock is breaching past your entrance. It's definitely way thicker than his fingers, and a lot more harder to get used to. He uses your bunched up knees as leverage to fuck you deeper, n deeper till your pretty eyes roll to the back of your skull.

He sounds like an animal when he cums. Growling pure filth to your ear while he grinds his dick inside you. Ready for a round 2?

Johnny "Soap" Mactavish who doesn't even wait. He was already hard as a fucking rock, hearing your cute voice cry out for him on the other side of the door. But now that it's opened, the only thing in his mind is dicking you down till your addicted to his cock.

Very impatient. You're literally like a ragdoll to him and he jus' manhandles you so you're face down, ass up :(

Shoves his fingers in your mouth while pulling your trousers down. He eats you out like a man starved. Like this was going to be his first, and last meal. Not a moment later and he's bullying your hole with his fat cock. Babbling nonsense about how fucking tight you are and how he's "waited to do this for so long". But he cums, and he cums deep.

The definition of painting your insides white.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick who looks like he's in so much pain. Unlike the other boys he tells you not to get close. He's not right in the head, can't you see that?? But you're sweet. Too sweet, and he wonders if you taste just the same. He's wetting his lips before knows it. He feels terrible. Eye fucking you while you're just trying to get him to talk about what's happening. Is he ok? He's not dying, is he? Tell me where it hurts, please.

You fret over him, and he's never felt such embarrassment in his life before. He feels bad, looking down at the massive tent in his pants. But he feels worse when he's pushing you against the wall. He's tried to hold back. Really, he did. But there's just so much a man like him can take in a situation like this. And he's trying to whisper apologies to you while he hasn't fully lost himself.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, just please....Fffuck–let me fuck you. Please..."

He's so desperate n'd whiney. As if he's not making your thighs shake and your brain into goo. He's fucking your mouth with his tongue, sturdy hands grabbing hold of your legs and wrapping them around his firm waist.

It's all too much. You're brain moving slower than your mouth can say "slow down". In a second he's got your trousers to the side, and his pants bunched up on his knees. He's shaking so much you're worried he might topple over. But he doesn't. Instead he slams his hips directly into yours. Your mouth opening in a silent scream.

He cums the moment he gets his dick in you. He's just so sensitive, ok :( And he doesn't stop at just one round, not even two. Three and his cum's leaking out of you, staining the floor and both of your thighs. Still moving his hips like a man possessed. Four, you're nearly passed out. And there's a slight bump in your stomach from where you're sure his cock, and cum is.

Head lying limp on your shoulder, you wonder how many times you've cummed already, or if this was even going to end. He smiles at you, so brightly he looks like your Kyle again. But he's kissing the side of your mouth before biting at your lips.

"Jus one more. Jus' one more, I promise..."

a/n: I literally don't know what bought this on. Are the parts where I lost motivation obvious? Yes? Ok. Fuck Some characters parts are longer than others I'm so sorry 😭 This has been rotting in my drafts for about 2 days. Hope you enjoy this more than I do 😞. Eat up, my loves!

Yours, truly,

–dolly

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bratfiction · 6 months

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why do you hate me?

tf141 men reacting to their spoiled gf saying “why do you hate me?” when she isn’t getting enough attention.

warnings -> 18+, f!reader, dom + sub dynamics, brat taming, allusions of impact play [spanking], petnames.

CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE

“excuse me?”

john’s eyebrows raise almost comically high. if it wasn’t for the stern glare taking over his features, you’d be giggling by now. instead you stay standing in front of him, shuffling on your feet with the same big pout you murmured your dumb question through. you despise making him upset with you—

at the same time, though… you feel those little sparks in your tummy when he pushes himself back from his desk and pats his lap. beckoning you to come sit on those strong thighs so he can sweet talk some sense to you. your feet can’t move fast enough, shuffling in your soft socks against the carpet. the rough denim of his jeans rubs against your own uncovered thighs as you shuffle in his lap.

“don’t ya think you’re being a silly girl?” it’s a simple question, but one you’re not exactly prepared for nonetheless.

your eyes meet his and there’s no way you can possibly shy away from his gaze. so you nod dumbly, and john’s chest rumbles with an approving hum. a strong hand cradles the back of your head, coaxing you to relax against his chest so he can put an end to this bratty streak you have in you rearing it’s ugly head.

SIMON GHOST RILEY

“what the fuck are y’on about?”

“just forget it, simon.” you bite back, turning on your heel to march away from him.

you hear his heavy sigh and it’s only a matter of seconds before the pair of big hands he has squeezes your waist, pulling you back into him until he’s able to growl right over the shell of your ear. you turn your head, tilting it upwards and meeting his fury filled eyes. it takes everything in you not to grin wildly and piss him off more than you already have— especially when you can practically feel the soreness his fingers will leave behind in your sides already.

“dumb pet,” he grits out, “could never hate you, not even when you act like this…”

at those words, you press a gentle kiss to his masked lips. and you know for a fact he’s rolling his eyes, tired of your theatrical tendencies and outbursts, but that doesn’t stop him from nudging your nose with his own. from pulling you closer and snorting out a breathy laugh.

“you’re still gonna fuckin’ get it later, y’know that right?”

JOHNNY SOAP MACTAVISH

“how dare ye?”

you know— you just know— that you’ve really fucked up this time. why would you say such a thing? why would you be such a nasty girl to the man who does everything for you? sure, he didn’t have his eyes on you for a bit— bless him, he just wanted to decompress after some training. and here you come, stomping over to him like a proper fusspot.

in a second, you’re tugged into his lap by your wrist. you clumsily fall on top of him but johnny is quick to readjust you, to make sure you’re getting a good look at his disappointed face.

“do ye even know what you’re saying?” he speaks lowly, doesn’t care how much your bottom lip wobbles under his harsh tone, “because i really don’t think ye do.”

“johnny, i’m sorry— i really—” you attempt blubbering out. however he presses his thick index finger against your pout, shushing you in an instant.

“fucked up again, bonnie.” he tsks.

maybe he’s right. you don’t know what you’re saying. you know better; you know what he likes to be called when you two find yourselves in situations just like this one, when you need to be put in your place. that’s why you don’t resist when he guides you to lay over his lap tummy down…

KYLE GAZ GARRICK

“princess, come on…”

kyle begins, treading carefully around your huffing form. strong arms loop around you from behind, humming softly when you melt right into him despite your bratty demeanor. you can feel him smile against the side of your warm face, while his scent and warmth invades your senses, calming you down immediately.

“you know that’s the farthest from the truth,” he whispers, kissing your cheek with an obnoxious smooching sound tacked on to each one. it prompts you to giggle and kyle laughs right along with you when he sees how much your nose scrunches up with happiness.

“there’s my sweet girl!”

he squeezes his arms around you, ignoring you when you shamefully apologize for being so ridiculous… because he knows deep down in his heart he’d let you get away with murder. so he shushes you with more kisses and murmurs about just how much he loves you, and plans on doing the same thing between your pretty thighs later on.

#⌨️.kit's writing #🤍.cod #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #call of duty headcanons #cod headcanons

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a-b-riddle · 4 days

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Part Four

Can't stop thinking about reader losing her cool.

"So we're closed, John." You said, trying to be cordial.

"Is that all you have to fucking say?" He practically growled before huffing. A humorless chuckle rumbling out of his chest. "I suppose not since you won't respond to any of us."

"Don't do that." You said taking a step back. Trying to create some distance between you and him. John would never physically hurt you. That much you knew.

"What?" He asked. His voice rising as he stepped closer to you. "Be angry that you pulled that shit and then left? Stopped talking to us. Changed your fucking locks. Last thing we even knew about you was that you got on a fucking plane and left. Even your friends wouldn't tell us anything besides that you were okay." "Which considering this came out of bloody nowhere, I find it highly unlikely that you are in any way 'okay'."

You took a deep breath. You wouldn't be intimidated. You wouldn't clam up. You wouldn't cry. You won't go back on your decision. You will be cordial and polite and not unleash everything you want to.

"I understand you might be upset, but it's for the best. It wasn't working out and I wanted to end on somewhat good terms. I would appreciate it if you lowered your voice and stopped speaking to me in that way." You could barely recognize your voice. It sounded so scripted. So robotic. But it was something you had been telling yourself. Excuses you had been telling yourself.

Because if you told yourself the truth. The picture you would paint would tell a different story. It wouldn't highlight the fact that John spoke to you like he was one of your men or that Johnny had the emotional capacity of a teaspoon. It wouldn't show what a flake Kyle was or that Simon was well and truly a mean-spirited person.

It would show how you weren't worth it. Four possible men. Four possibilities of happily ever after and none of them chose you. That no one ever did and no one ever would. You weren't worth it. You weren't loveable.

It wasn't right, but it was what the voices had been telling you late in the night. When you would crawl into your cold bed. The silence of the room not filled with John's steady breathing or the sound of Kyle's heartbeat as you laid you head on his chest. The absence of Johnny's occasional snoring or whatever Simon was watching playing in the background of your dreams.

In the void, all your dark thoughts came back at you.

"Upset?" He asked, his voice still louder than you would have liked. "An understatement considering the stunt you pulled."

"You think it was a stunt?"

"So Johnny thought with his dick and didn't plan things out. You should have told him instead of crying to Simon and then pulling this shit." "Christ, I knew you were still young, but I didn't take you for that immature."

"You know what?" "I'm done." "I am so fucking sick of making excuses for you all." "You want to act like I'm the immature one, John?" "You are 35-year-old man who cannot separate his work from his work like. You have continuously talked to and down to me like I am one of your men, only to turn around and always blame your shitty fucking attitude on work. I get that your job is stressful, but I did not sign up to be your verbal fucking punching bag."

"And this come and fucking go incident with Johnny. It has been a consistent issue with him coming over just to fuck. I've asked him for that last six months that 'hey, we've been seeing each other for a year and a half, I would love to meet your family' and suddenly the dates stop. He doesn't ask to see me until after 7 PM. He brings food occasionally, fucks me and leaves. Sometimes before I even wake up."

"And the only reason Kyle is the person I am the least pissed off with is because I haven't even seen him." You took a step closer, not noticing how the anger in John's eyes had softened. "I have not seen Kyle in weeks, to no fault of my own. I stopped reaching out to make dinner plans after the third time he canceled on a date night when I was either on my way or already at the restaurant."

"And Simon?" You scoffed. "Well, it doesn't really matter. After all, as he said I get mine. You all make me cum which is supposed to magically erase how shitty you've all been as partners. It's supposed to erase the nights I've cried myself to sleep debating on whether or not there was something wrong with me. How I'm not good enough to meet anyone else in your lives like some dirty fucking secret. How none of you can even bother to pencil me for a group dinner so I can tell you a publishing house picked up my book. How at some point you all stopped caring or maybe never did."

You took a breath. Blinking quickly to keep the tears at bay.

You wouldn't cry. You wouldn't cry.

"As Simon said it best, I should have known that spreading my legs wouldn’t end with one of you putting a ring on your finger.”

For once, John was silent. Unsure of what to say. An apology starting to form at the tip of his tongue before realizing 'sorry' wouldn't cut it. Not this time.

Had he really been that sharp with you? He knew that there were times he had gotten short, but he almost always apologized immediately after. If not at the very moment he took in your crest-fallen face, then definitely later. But he almost always told you he was sorry. Didn't he?

"So as I said," you swallowed down the lump in your throat. "I'm closed. We're done. Now get out." Your face held no sadness. Even though your eyes were nearly full to the brim with unshed tears, you weren't sad.

You were finally angry.

#captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #call of duty #john soap mactavish #angst #angst with a happy ending

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frogchiro · 3 months

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i love the idea of bull!price breeding cat!reader in broad daylight so the boys see him and grow furious as bull!price cages us under his body,, the boys try nip and lick reader but bull!price simply uses his strong legs to kick the others away,, making sure the rest of the men can't do anything but watch and bark as cat!reader gets cockdrunk on price's much larger cock and warm and hairy body before filling her up with his cum or cumming all over her body and showing her off to the heated (in more ways than one) men, ahh that's the dream

Bull!Price's huge, strong body is absolutely covering yours, mounting you from behind, rubbing his heavy, potent musk on you as you continue to mewl and moan in delight and blinding pleasure :(

You can try and squirm away from the borderline overstimulation and John's huge cock battering your poor, wet cunt but there's no escape; John will just let out a rumbly huff, groan something about a 'naughty bratty kitty' before hauling you back by your fluffy tail back with you wailing out because his sensitive, flared tip hit against your cervix and spat out more of his fertile cum against your most intimate place :((

And it doesn't help one bit that this is all happening out in the open field in broad daylight where any hybrid can see you getting defiled and bred like some heifer. While John delights in getting the message that you're marked by him and you're his pretty kitty, unfortunately there are some cons to this, namely that damn pack of dog hybrids that took to try and breed with you and claim you as theirs >:(

They try to interfere, at first growling and buffing at the coupling pair, Ghost growling and snarling while Kyle and Soap started to whine early on, their cocks hanging and leaking while trying to get your attention but you're way too fucked out to notice or care.

The two younger hybrids would try to sneak close and try to lick or nip at you, Johnny ever the brave pup even trying to sneak under you to suck your tit but the huge bull hybrid is having none of it; no ones getting close to a mating pair so he kicks his powerful leg out, his hooves getting dangerously close to the whining hybrids while his strong arms pull you even harder against his chest, a snarl of his own making its way onto his face.

Those damn dogs can sure try to take you away or think that you're theirs; even better that they're here and watching you. It will make it all the more pleasurable and victorious for John when he shows them how a real breeding bull fucks and claims his girl <33

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rowarn · 3 months

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HYBRID!AU PART 2

part one | part two | part three (coming soon!!!)

(: anyway here's what you've all been begging for. a part 2 but it was getting so long...almost 3k words. and so....there will be a part 3.......but for now i hope this satiates you!!!

cw: hurt/comfort, aftermath of hurt???, self-deprecating thoughts, insecurities, mentions of blood and scratching, mentions of past mistreatment, petnames and headpats tho <3

The next time a human approaches you, you’re unable to stop the growls that escape your throat when you hear the pspsp as he tries to approach you. When you hiss, the man scoffs and stomps away muttering a soft ‘stupid cat’ under his breath.

No one approached you for a long while after that. The only way you knew how much time had passed was when the restaurants all threw their leftover food from their workdays. Eating out of the trash was always utterly humiliating, especially when you got caught.

Most people ignored you when they saw you sitting on the sidewalk, getting some sun since it didn’t shine into the little alleyway you hunkered in. Some people would scoff and give you disgusted looks, as if you were a stain on their shoe.

At this point, you were used to humans acting like you were scum of the Earth. After your experience with Simon, human’s behavior towards you no longer surprises you. Though it hurt, you didn’t understand why you were so unlovable.

But then one evening, when the sun was just beginning to set and the temperature was steadily dropping, you were huddled up in what little bit of sun-warmth you could get until it became dark. Your arms were wrapped around your body as you shivered, trying to ignore the way your tummy growled from being empty – the store employees had chased you off before you could steal anything from the dumpster.

A large shadow cast over you and when you looked up, you saw a slender, athletic man. His presence immediately set you on edge and you felt a growl bubbling up in your chest.

“Hey now,” he chided softly, pretty brown eyes crinkled as he squatted in front of you, “None of that, little kitty.”

You scowled up at him. Even crouched down the way he was, he was larger than you.

“Do you have a name?” he asks kindly.

You pause at that. Soap had given you a name. But did it really count as one if your previous owner hadn’t even agreed to it? Still, it was the only thing you really had left of your former companion.

You softly mutter the name you’d been given and the man nods before holding out his large hand, “Kyle. Would you like to come home with me?”

That sends off alarm bells in your head and before you know it, your claws are ripping into his hand and you’re scurrying into the alleyway to cower in the corner.

You hear the man faintly sigh before he stands, knees cracking as he does. You don’t hear anything from him for a few minutes before his heavy boots walk past the alleyway and fade.

You don’t even understand your own reaction. Of course you wanted a home to call your own. But you don’t think you would be able to handle it if he turned out to be the same as Simon. You wouldn’t be able to get attached to a human only to be abandoned on the streets like you were last night's trash. Perhaps it was just easier to reject all human companionship than risk being heartbroken all over again. You had only recently stopped crying yourself to sleep over the memory of your home.

You think that will be the last time you see the man, surely he wouldn’t want anything to do with a cat-hybrid who was mean, but just a couple days later, he’s back. He stands beside you, one bandaged hand gripping a shopping bag. You feel a pang of guilt at the sight of his bandaged wound. He slowly places it beside you, staring at you expectantly.

“This is for you,” he says awkwardly after a second of you staring blankly at him, “It’s some food and water.”

Your stomach growls at the mention of food and as much as you want to peek in the bag, you can’t bring yourself to admit defeat like that. He might think you’re accepting him as your owner if you accept his gift!

But you’re not! You refuse to end up hurt and sad like you had been with Simon! You would rather just live on the street than go through that hurt all over again. You couldn’t stand to give your trust only to be betrayed and mistreated again.

You only wanted someone to love you but apparently that wasn’t in the deck for you and that was okay, you told yourself. No matter how much it hurts to admit.

The man, Kyle, sighs softly when you simply ignore him, the sound almost melancholy. It makes your heart ache in your chest. He casts you one last glance but you keep your gaze down before he walks away, disappearing out of sight at the end of the street.

With his piercing gaze off of you, you turn to the bag and begin rooting inside it.

A couple bottles of water and some hybrid-safe packaged food. Nothing that needed refrigeration but also much better quality and variety than what you had been given by Simon.

You remember how it felt to watch Soap eat delicious meats and fruits and veggies while you got bland, colorless slop. Sure, it was healthy for hybrids but everyone knew it was disgusting. Clearly Simon didn’t care – he was just feeding you so you didn’t inconvenience him by starving to death in his house.

And though Soap would sometimes share his food with you, it wasn’t the same.

This food was yours. Kyle had gotten it for you.

You pull out one of the packages, a neatly wrapped sandwich with all the organic ingredients listed in bright colors. It makes your heart ache just a little bit as you take your first bite, all alone on the sidewalk, quietly wishing Soap was there for you to share it with as payment for all the food he had shared with you.

Kyle makes it a habit to visit you day after day, sometimes bringing food, sometimes just bringing himself. Most of the time, you ignore him but he doesn’t seem deterred in the slightest, only quietly promising to visit you again soon when he bids you goodbye.

It starts to become lonely when he leaves.

You don’t know when it begins, but you find yourself waiting for him. You sit out in the open, mindlessly combing your tail, where he can see you if he approaches. You find yourself thinking about him and if he’ll bring something for you to snack on – he found these delicious fish flavored chips that you were practically addicted to. Though, you didn’t say anything about your liking of them, he kept bringing them so you think he knows.

Some days, Kyle’s visits were quick and fleeting and other times he sat there for a while. He had given up trying to talk to you much since you made it a point to ignore him but you were happy that he hadn’t given up yet.

You know you would have given up by now. But the fact he persists leaves you with a warm, soft feeling in your chest. You’ve never had someone try so hard for you before, Simon certainly never cared to try.

Kyle wasn’t so bad after all, you found yourself deciding. He was quiet but not standoffish. He didn’t try to touch you after you had swiped at him one time when he went to pat your head. He was kind, always complimenting you with ‘pretty kitty’ and ‘sweet kitty’. And best of all, he didn’t ignore your existence like you had grown used to when living with Simon.

Waiting for Kyle to show up became the most grueling part of your day. Minutes felt like hours and any tall man who passed by had you perking up to see if it was Kyle. The urge to get closer to him grew day by day, you wanted him to pet you, you wanted to talk to him.

Maybe living with him wouldn’t be so bad after all. Just the thought of a happy life made you purr to yourself.

You vowed that you would talk to him today, maybe see if you could take him up on that offer he had made that first day you met.

But he never came. As the sun dips behind the horizon, you find your hopes getting squashed. He always came before dark.

With a heavy heart, you curled up in the little cardboard box you had been calling your shelter. It was easy to tell yourself that the ache in your heart was because you wanted to see him and not because you were scared he had given up on you.

The next day, the same thing. You waited all day only for him to not show up. Then the next day. And the next.

A week passed with no sign of him and you tried your best to pretend like it didn’t hurt like hell.

Maybe he really had gotten sick of waiting for you and decided to find a hybrid who would actually talk to him. You couldn’t blame him, you suppose. But it still made that heavy pain settle in your heart like when you had been thrown out by Simon.

One morning, you were awoken by a loud voice shouting down the alleyway, “Alright, come on out, cat.”

The sound of the voice had you sitting up, eyes wide as you looked around. At the entrance, a man stood with his hands on his hips, a hefty utility belt around his waist.

He sighed when he saw you staring blankly at him before he came over, hoisting you up by the arm.

Your growled and hissed, ears pinned back as you fought against his grip. He dragged you out, taking you towards a big black van that had the words ‘hybrid-control’ printed on the side.

You swiped at the man with your free hand, sharp nails slicing into his skin. He cried out in pain but didn’t relent in his hold.

“Stupid fucking cat,” he snapped, “Fuckin’ hate havin’ to pick shits like you up.”

“Excuse me,” a sudden, frantic voice called out, “What are you doing?”

The man holding you turned to look at Kyle, an annoyed look on his face, “Got a complaint about a stray hybrid livin’ around here. Came to pick it up.”

“Oh that’s not necessary,” Kyle said, reaching out to pull you from the man’s grasp, handling you much softer than the stranger, “This hybrid is mine.”

The man looked like he wanted to argue but glanced down at his bleeding arm and rolled his eyes, “Whatever, man. Your funeral. Just get it off the street.”

When the van drove off, Kyle turned to look at you apologetically, “Sorry, I didn’t want to claim ownership over you like that but–”

“Where were you this week?” you find yourself pouting, crossing your arms over your chest petulantly.

Kyle looks shocked before he smiles kindly, “I was away for work. I’m sorry I didn’t come to see you.”

Your pout only deepens, “It’s not like I missed you or anything…”

“Of course not,” he laughs but you both know he doesn’t believe you, “How about I show you my home, hm? It’s not too far from here.”

You agree without complaint, letting Kyle lead the way down the busy streets until it grows quieter and quieter.

The neighborhood is startlingly familiar as he escorts you to his home. It doesn’t take long for you to realize it’s the same neighborhood Simon and Soap live in.

You weren’t exactly sure how far their home was but you couldn’t stop yourself from frowning at the memories.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, “Don’t like it? I know it’s a little boring here but it’s near the base so what can you do?”

“It’s not that,” you quickly said, considering telling Kyle what was on your mind but you instead settled for, “I-It’s nothing.”

You were worried if you told him about your previous home, he might think there was something wrong with you. You didn’t want him to think you were undesirable and put you out on the streets all over again. You silently wondered when you became so insecure.

He hummed and opened the front door for you, “There’s a room at the end of the hall that’s an office right now but it’s all yours once I get it set up with a bed and everything.”

“My own room?” you ask softly, fluffy ears perked up.

“Of course,” he smiles, “This is your home now.”

You feel tears prick your eyes but you quickly look away before Kyle can see them. It felt so nice that he actually considered it your home too and not just his. Simon always made you feel like you were barely welcome and only there because he put up with you until he couldn’t stand you anymore.

“Oh before I forget,” he said, grabbing a box off of the table, “I got you this.”

He showed you the contents, a cute, dainty collar with a metal tag in the shape of a fish with your name engraved on it.

“Why do you have a collar?” you asked, tilting your chin up so he could fasten it around your neck.

“I had hopes that you would let me take you home one of these days,” he laughed, a boyish, kind sound that made a smile grow on your own face, “I wasn’t going to give up until you were safe and sound with me, love. I knew this was going to be your home one way or another.”

You spend the whole day wandering around the house and exploring, nudging against every surface to spread your scent on it. You hadn’t done that much in Simon’s house, too scared you’d get reprimanded for dirtying up the furniture or something.

But Kyle didn’t care in the slightest. He simply smiled when he saw you nuzzling the pillows. He even trimmed your nails so they weren’t nearly as sharp anymore.

It was nice living with him.You quickly realized how different your life felt with Kyle than how it felt with Simon.

Kyle was kind and friendly, calling you by your name and petnames and not just ‘hey you’ or ‘cat’. The affection in his tone was palpable and just hearing how sweetly he spoke to you made you purr uncontrollably.

And he didn’t once raise his voice at you or chase you off the couch when you were napping. He gave you the softest pats on the head and let you snooze on his lap without a single complaint.

He never forgot to feed you and always gave you the most delicious things he could find. He ate at the table with you and told you all about his day, making an effort to talk to you and learn about the things you liked to do while he was at work.

You were happy to finally have a home to call your own. But deep down, you missed Soap. You missed his energetic happiness and how affectionate he was with you in a way that only hybrids could be. He was the only true companion you had ever had and he had left his mark on you. You wondered about him every day, especially when you heard the front door open and you half expected him to come running in with a thrilled grin on his face, ready to regale you with tales of outside.

You passed their house one day while on a walk with Kyle, something he took to doing as an activity with you (he didn’t want you to get bored or stagnant just sitting inside all day), trying your best to act like seeing the home you used to call your own didn’t make your heart ache painfully in your chest.

“There’s a hybrid that lives here, you might like him. His name’s Soap,” Kyle said when he saw you pausing in front of their home, “Owner is Simon Riley. I work with him, kind of a standoffish guy, you should probably steer clear if you run into him. He’s not the most friendly.”

“Yeah…” you found yourself mumbling, barely even registering anything Kyle had said, a frown etched on your lips before you looked at Kyle, “Can we go home?”

“Of course. Let’s get you some food, pretty kitty,” Kyle cooed affectionately, patting your head before leading you back home.

You casted a glance at the home you used to call your own, you were startled to see Soap standing in the window, eyes wide, brows furrowed, and hurt written all over his face. The sight alone made your own eyes sting. He had never looked at you like that before. He looked so heartbroken.

Kyle cooed softly to get your attention again, leading you down the sidewalk and away from the house. Soap’s figure in the window faded from view and you felt your head spinning.

Soap and Simon’s scent faded the further you got away from it. But once you entered your home with Kyle, your scent and his mixed together in a way that it never did with Simon’s. You couldn’t help but purr, the pain and anxiety in your heart fading.

But still, your mind lingered on the distraught face of the best friend you left behind.

do not modify or repost to third party sites. reblogs appreciated!

#gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz x reader #cod x reader

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gogh-with-the-flow · 3 months

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Everyone always talks about John "share my wife" Price but what about Kyle "our girlfriend" Garrick???

18+

It starts with you and him on the couch together. You've got your hand in his pants and he's got his tongue down your throat. You're pumping his cock while he pants into your mouth when his phone rings- someone is video calling him. You glance at his phone sitting beside him, discarded on the couch cushion when you first crawled over to him to kiss his neck. The icon on the screen is a familiar one: a mischievous grin with a mohawk on top.

"Answer it," you say as you slide down the couch and onto your knees in front of him.

"What?" He asks, his eyes wide as saucers as you hand him the phone.

"Answer it," you say again with a devilish grin, still stroking him slowly. With a shaky breath to school his expression, he answers it.

Gaz tries his best to stay nonchalant, not even listening to Soap's chatter through the phone, but you have other plans. Gaz let's out a surprised grunt and jerks when you take his cockhead into your mouth.

"You alright mate?" Soap asks after a momentary pause.

"Yeah-yeah," Gaz answers too quickly. "Muscle spasm. Got a- ah- knot in my shoulder." You can't help but smile around his dick as you bob your head up and down his shaft. He glances down at you with a frustrated huff. Soap makes a noise on the phone.

"That's rough, mate. You should ask your girl to help you rub it out." You nearly choke at the unintended double entendre. "Where is she anyway? Wanna say hi."

"Uh... she's-" whatever half-baked excuse Gaz was about to spout off is cut off by the sudden sucking noise your lips made on "accident". Gaz freezes, looking past the phone at you, and Soap is silent on the other line. You continue to swirl your tongue around Gaz's tip.

"...Gaz?" Soap asks slowly. Gaz doesn't answer, his chest heaving in an effort to maintain his composure. "What's going on?" Gaz's eyes darted back and forth between you and the phone, silently willing you to stop so he wont get caught. Instead, you make yourself gag on his length, causing him to grunt involuntarily.

"Holy shite, Gaz... are you...?" Soap sounds suddenly breathless at the sounds he hears on his phone. They aren't unfamiliar to him, but usually they're accompanied by a little orange logo, not by his best mate on FaceTime. "Turn the camera around."

Gaz's jaw drops with a pant. Oh, he's so caught. He stares down at you, and you nod your head before sucking hard. With a shaky hand, he taps the screen, and you hear Soap groan over the speaker. You suck off Gaz's tip with a wet pop and smile.

"Hi Soap," you say conversationally, as if Gaz's cock wasn't there right in your face, as if you didn't have drool and precum dripping down your chin. You stare up into the camera phone as you stick your tongue out and lick up and down the shaft.

"Steamin' Jesus," Soap says, and there's a rustling over the speaker. "Garrick, you dog," he growls. You put on a show for him, pumping Gaz in your hand while you mouth at his balls, making him moan out loud. He's already been caught, no use hiding it anymore.

Soap gets himself off to it. You can hear his groans of pleasure over the phone mixing with Gaz's, can hear the wet sounds of him stroking himself. When you finally get Gaz to cum on your face, you smile at the pleasured moan Soap let's out. Gaz smears his cum over your lips with his thumb and with a smirk he says,

"What are you doing tonight, Tav?"

"I'll be over in an hour," Soap replies.

The three of you go at it for hours, round after round, multiple positions, every combination. And while you were the center of their attention for most of it, it was also incredible hot to watch them together, making out above you, jerking each other's cocks. By the end of the night, when everyone's needs had been met and you all were exhausted, you all agree it was the best sex of any of your lives. And you all three agree: there's no going back after this.

Soap comes over more and more often for threesomes, but a couple times it was just you and him, or him and Gaz. The three of you find a rhythm and balance together, happy and very well satisfied.

Gaz is out of the country when Ghost finds out. And. He. Is. Livid.

He'd borrowed Soap's phone for something, he doesn't remember what he needed, because once he saw the video of you and Soap on his phone he swears he saw red.

Soap had never seen his LT so angry, especially not toward him. Ghost has him backed into the wall, face in his face, barking at him like a mad dog.

"Have you gone fucking mad? You've got a lot of fucking nerve, Sergeant! Showin' your face to Gaz while you're giving him the runaround! Fucking his girl behind his back! You should be ashamed! He's our teammate, he's our BROTHER!" And in a blind panic, Soap shouts out:

"He knows!" It's enough to make Ghost pause his tirade for a moment, giving the shorter man an incredulous look.

"Bullshit."

"He does! He knows, I can prove it!" Soap pleads, and slowly holds out his hand. Ghost pins him with a glare but hands him the phone anyway.

Soap opens up the group chat the three of you share and turns the phone to show to Ghost. There's a variety of messages, some casual, some flirtatious, but what really catches Ghost's eye are the videos.

The first is the one that sent him into a fit in the first place: you're bent over in front of a mirror while Soap rams into you from behind. The video is sent with a message reading "taking care of our girl while you're gone x" The next video is sent from your POV as you bounce on Gaz’s cock. Then a video sent from Gaz's number that seems to be in the barracks shower of all places, the phone propped up somehow capturing the two Sergeants wet and naked. Gaz steps back from the camera and embraces Soap with a heated kiss. They each wrap a hand around both their cocks together and jerk themselves off to a simultaneous finish.

As Ghost scrolls through the chat, Soap, still pinned to the wall, takes notice of the way Ghost's breathing steadily gets heavier and heavier. And he DEFINITELY notices the growing weight pressed against his stomach. He gives an experimental grind of his hips. Ghost's eyes snap back up to him. They're still full of fire, but for a completely different reason.

"You got me stuck between a rock and a hard place, here, LT." He jokes with a gravelly voice. "But you know what they say... the more the merrier." In a matter of minutes, Ghost had Soap turned around, and both their pants are down by their ankles.

Gaz gets a new message in the chat later that night. The video starts focused on your face, your mouth deepthroating Soap and your eyes rolled back in your head as your body gets jostled roughly by... someone else. The camera pans down your body, showing you on your hands and knees, and a thick, wide body fucking into you from behind. A familiar tattoo sleeve catches Gaz's eye, and finally the camera pans up to show that infamous skull mask that he knows so well. The video is captioned: "found a new playmate for us... don't tell the captain ;)"

The captain, of course, does find out sooner rather than later. The team is gathered at you and Gaz’s home to watch a football game. Most of the sports terminology goes over your head, but you're glad to have all your boys together... plus their captain.

You think you're being subtle about everything, but Price notices. His job is noticing things. Countless life-or-death situations have counted on Price noticing little things. So of course he notices your heated glances at Soap, the way you leave lingering touches on Ghost when you pass by him. You, nestled into your boyfriend's side with his arm around you while you make eyes at his teammates. It makes his blood boil.

He confronts you in the kitchen. You got up to fetch yourself a drink and he waits a moment before he follows you in. You turn around from the fridge to see him standing behind you. His face is impassive and unreadable. You linger there a moment in confusion. He's usually so friendly toward you. Finally he breaks the silence first.

"You know, Kyle really cares about you. Talks about you all the time, talks about how much he loves you. You've got that poor boy wrapped around your little finger, you know that?"

"Th-thank you...?" You stutter, completely caught off-guard. The cold tone of his voice doesn't match his kind words. There's an edge to it, a dangerous one. He shakes his head at you.

"He doesn't deserve this. He's a good man."

"Doesn't deserve what?" You ask, glancing down at the extra beer in your hand that you'd gotten for Gaz. He doesn't deserve beer?

"You think I don't know what's going on?" He accuses with a step forward. "You think I don't see it?"

"See what?" You ask, growing more and more worried with every passing second. Price scoffs.

"You know, I've seen this a lot. Men in the service go out and risk their lives, all the while back home their girl is running circles around them." He huffs, giving you a look you'd never seen before. It makes you feel... gross. "Thought you were different, though. Thought you could be trusted. And to do it with his teammates?" His eyes narrow and his nose wrinkles in disgust. You gasp in realization. He thinks you're cheating!

"John, you don't understand-"

"You think I'm stupid?"

"No!"

"What's going on?" Gaz asks from the doorway. He was wondering what was taking you both so long, but he didn't expect to find you close to tears cornered by his captain. Price turns his body toward him, but keeps his eyes on you.

"Do you want to tell him, or should I?" He asks. You open and close your mouth but nothing comes out. Your brain is overworking trying to figure out an answer. You can't tell him the truth, you'd get your boys in trouble! Should you just admit to it? Take the blame to protect them? Before you can come up with the words, Soap and Ghost enter the room behind Gaz. Price turns his attention to them, and you breathe out in relief to have his glare off you.

"Or maybe you two would like to tell him?" He proposes, voice slightly raised. The tension in the room is suffocating. Price stares the other two down as Gaz looks from one person to the other, putting the pieces together.

"Price it's not what you think," he says with his hands out in a placating gesture. Price tilts his head.

"Kyle, I'm sorry to have to tell you-"

"They're not going round my back, Price. I know." Price shuffles his feet a bit.

"You... know?"

"The four of us have... an arrangement." Gaz walks over to you and wraps an arm around you. "She's done nothing wrong, don't be cross with her. Neither have Ghost or Soap. She's not just my girlfriend, she's our girlfriend." Gaz holds Price's eyes.

"And the four of you are..."

"Together. Is that a problem, Captain?" Price quirks an eyebrow at his sergeant's challenge, but after a moment shakes his head.

"No. No, not a problem. Just keep it tactical on the field. Copy?"

"Yes sir." Price turns to Soap and Ghost.

"Copy?"

"Yes sir," they answer in unison. Price looks at you again and his expression softens, dropping his Captain persona for your sake.

"I owe you an apology," he starts.

"It's alright," you interrupt, giving him a shy smile. "You were just looking out for Kyle."

"You should've seen Ghost when he found out. Nearly bit my head off," Soap says, lightening the mood. But Price's eyes still linger.

"Game's still on," Ghost says, "if you all are done being dramatic." The five of you file back into the living room to finish out the game with you still nestled into Gaz's side, this time openly joined by Soap on your other side. Throughout the game, as the men banter about whose team is better, Price kept glancing over at you.

The game ends and as everybody winds down, Price watches the affection you gave the other three.

"I have to wonder, though," he starts, "what it is that's got all three of my men so wrapped up in you..." Your eyes dart from one man to the other as each of them catch onto Price's meaning.

"Well... it'd be a shame not to include that captain, right boys?" Gaz teases.

"The more the merrier-"

"Shut up MacTavish, fucks sake," Ghost huffs, still with a smirk.

"I still owe you a proper apology, sweetheart," Price says, beckoning you to sit on his lap.

And apologize, he does, in the form of his face between your thighs, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you. Eventually, the five of you wind up in the bedroom, tasting and teasing and fucking one another.

"We're going to need a bigger bed..."

#this was supposed to just be a short blurb but then it ended up taking me all day to qrite this #whoopsie daisy #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #captain john price #john soap mactavish #you know i had to make it a little angsty #because its me #of course

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forsworned · 3 months

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˗ˏˋcrazy cat lady ft. poly!tf141ˎˊ˗

꒰ঌa/n໒꒱ something about simon and cats is just really pullin at my heart strings tn, for @chamomiletealeaf bc she wanted more :)

꒰warning(s)suggested polyship, fluff꒱

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀˗ˏˋrequests are openˎˊ˗

"God, not again."

Simon groaned, as he caught her feeding the alley cats. That piqued Johnny's interest as he walked into the living room area where Simon was standing. He peeked over his shoulder and saw her open a can of tuna-salmon wet food and tipped it into the bowls that she "sneakily" set outside. The alley cats all surprisingly patient as they sat with tails tucked around their forms.

"Well 'll be damned, she's got 'em trained." Kyle's voice interjected, making Johnny jump a little but his grin grew as he folded his arms. Simon only shook his head.

"Ahh, how sweet." Price popped his head in and his gaze was tender as he laid his eyes on her. His once furrowed brows relaxed at the sight of her petting one of the cats heads' as it headbutted her palm and let her glide over its spine to the tip of its tail. Another rubbing itself against her thigh and a third prancing around her as it lightly brushed its black, bushy tail around her waist.

"Jus' admit it, L.t., 's cute." Johnny nudged Simon with a good natured grin. Simon leered at him for a moment before returning his attention to witness her gawking up at them doe-eyed and caught redhanded. Her lips curled into a charming, girlish grin that was enough to make any mans heart stop. She raised her hand to wave at them and they all chuckled, peering down at her with endearing expressions, well, minus Simon.

He felt his temple twitch as he attempted to glare at her, but even he wasn't impervious to her invisible shackles that she placed around his wrists years ago. His jaw ticked as he walked away from the window, leaving the guys behind to adore her coquettish behaviorisms, mumbling something about her being a 'crazy cat lady'.

"C'mere, y'lil cunt."

He growled, at the skittish calico kitten that refused to come out from behind the rubbish bin. He was growing more impatient by the moment, cursing himself for not having more of a natural disney princess touch the way [name] did with animals, specifically felines. A sharp exhale leaves his nose as he palmed his face. It had been fifteen freakin' minutes since he had decided to walk out in the chilly February night air with a can of cat food to lure out one of the kitties that he had saw her feeding earlier. Frustrating was simply an understatement.

A girlish giggle was heard behind him and his body went rigid.

Bloody fuckin' hell.

"Feedin' that damn cat again, weren't ya?" She mimicked his deep, gravelly Manchester accent. As atrocious as it was, he couldn't help but chuckle at her impersonation of him.

"Startin' to sound like a cunt, aren't I?" He retorted. It was a pleasant, lighthearted banter. She chuckled as she crouched beside his towering figure, and made a kissing noise while rubbing his fingers together at the calico and the kitty meowed in delight as she* trotted over to her and welcomed her pets.

*calicos are almost always female

"You gotta make yourself less menacing, Si. Crouch." It was a gentle command as she continued to lovingly stroke the cat. He sighed as he mimicked her position and glanced over at her to wait for her next instruction. "Go on."

She urged him to repeat her exact gestures. He surveyed the way the calico rubbed against her in envy. She could feel his green little monster eyes on her and it made her lips twitch into a smug smile. "Don't got all night, Si."

He narrowed his eyes at her before--reluctantly--repeating her kissing noises and rubbing motion with his fingers at the calico and she meows at him and quickly rushes over to his hand. Simon's eyes immediately softened at the contact. Warm, pure and loving. There was nothing like the little gesture of a kitten welcoming little pets on the forehead as they rubbed their fluffy cheeks against his fingers, down their spine to the tip of their tail. A relieved sigh emitted from his lips and [name] giggled.

He peered up at her for a moment before looking back down to see a black kitten had joined their little party around the opposite side of his leg, rubbing its pink nose against his thigh. Although it was remarkably menial, Simon's mask had arched upwards, indicating that he was indeed smiling. Another chuckle escaped from her as she relished in the rare sight. Simon petting alley cats he was always complaining about to the guys that [name] would bring around due to her sweet-natured behavior that wouldn't allow her heart to just let these animals to just be restive pests that ransacked their waste bins? Unheard of.

"They're just like you." She mused, as she continued to pet the calico. She laughed knowing that he was raising a curious brow at her, waiting for her to continue before she spoke up again. "Skittish as hell."

A short silence.

"Thinkin' they were more like you." He spoke up, still petting the black kitten. She turned to him waiting for a irascible remark, but he peered up at her with a tender gaze as he lifted his free hand to gently pinch her cheek. "Cute as hell."

Her eyes reamed at his words and his adoring touch. Her heart soared in her chest and she couldn't help the way her lips simpered and the way her cheeks warmed pleasantly. A syrupy sweet moment that she was already etching into her brain, and Kyle was capturing forever in his phone as Price and Johnny snickered, beholding the saccharine and cushy side of Simon that came out more and more around her.

"Send this to me." Johnny crowed, with a wolfish grin.

"Ditto." Price bit back his low chuckle but it slipped when he saw the way [name] leaned her head against Simon's shoulder and he didn't even take a beat before he carded his fingers though her hair.

"Fuckin' hell." Kyle's shoulder's were shaking as he muffled the pure joy running through his system. It was indeed a sight for sore eyes.

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konigsblog · 4 months

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What are bjs like with the boys?

bjs with the 141 (+könig... sorry, he's my husband, i have to talk about him :3)

price himself adores a blowjob, but he especially appreciates it when he's all pent up and stressed from his work. he leans back on his office chair, thick and muscular thighs spread wide open, his hard and girthy cock in the air, hard and drooling all over his abdomen. thick, milky cum smears across his abdomen when you tease his sensitive tip, doing small kitten licks to the head of his shaft, giggling when his breath hitches in his throat. “god--you’re doin’ things to me, princess...”

you slowly mouth down his dick, dragging your tongue up the prominent veins on his thick shaft. mmf’, even mouthing his heavy balls whilst pumping his meaty cock to prepare him, before wrapping your lips around the thick girth of his cock, looking up at him while he bops your head. price's hand tugs and nestles in your hair, encouraging you to take another inch and praising you for being so sweet and gentle with him, especially when he's so stiff and sore from his hard work. :3

simon riley can't get enough of it. he appreciates it whenever, always taking up on your offer. his large hand covers the crown of your head, not tugging, but gently pushing you down onto his big dick.

“attagirl, keep suckin’ me like tha’--yeah, tha’s it, pretty one, keep lickin’ up my balls, girly.” he chuckles, his eyelids heavy as he takes another drag from a cigarette, blowing a thick, grey cloud out. he's so twitchy, and so, so fucking hard when you suck his tip and fondle his heavy balls. your hand pumps whatever you can't take, whilst you slobber and drool all over his big, lengthy cock, your tears mixing with your saliva.

he appreciates it whenever; whether that's in the shower, in the morning, while he's watching the football, or at nighttime to soothe the throb between his thick, muscular, heavy thighs. mouthing down his shaft, you giggle at his reactions. taking his groans and growls as encouragement to take another inch. :(

gaz is so needy for a blowjob. when you don't want to have sex with him, he'll plead for a blowjob instead, flushed and hot when you begin taking down his boxers. kyle goes utterly insane when you suck and lick his dick over his boxers, covering them in spit and saliva while he begs and groans out for you to suck his cock properly. he loves to face fuck you, to throat fuck you, to push his lengthy, leaking dick down your throat, his sticky balls smacking against your chin.

both large hands on the side of your head as he grinds his thick, wet cock down your throat, laboured breathing and low, deep moans in the air. he adores spurting ropes of his thick, warm cum all over your pretty face, his fingers gathering some and pushing it into your mouth, watching the way you suck at his digits needily.

soap is so rough, he makes a mess on your face and forces you to show him how full your mouth is. he adores the sight, it gets his cock even harder, twitching in his hand as he pumps his veiny dick, preparing himself for another blowjob. and when you wrap your puffy lips around his girthy cock again, you allow him to take control. he pushes your head down onto his shaft, holding it there as he twitches and throbs in your mouth. johnny loves the sounds of your struggle; gagging on your dick after slobbering all over his dick and balls. :(

he likes when you cockwarm him, keeping your lips tightly wrapped around him at the base of his length. your cunt pulses around nothing, leaving you pumping your pussy with your fingers, coating them in sweet slick and moaning around his hard, big cock, johnny's eyes rolling to the back of his head at the sensation of your lips vibrating around his meaty length.

trying to suck könig off is difficult enough, but with how horny he is and how high is libido is, it makes it even rougher. könig loves to corner your head in, to push and squeeze your head with his two, muscular thighs. he slowly ruts against your mouth, one large and calloused hand covering your eyes.

“oh, verdammt, mein lieber. du bist so hübsch...” *“oh, damn, my dear. you're so pretty like this..." he grumbles out, sliding his big cock in and out your puffy lips, groaning lowly when you moan around his shaft.

he lets out a pained grunt, the way you suckle on his tip driving him insane, moaning out quietly at the taste on your tongue. könig loves rough sex; to see you in pain. so, of course, he adores the sounds of your gags, making sure you're gagging and drooling all over yourself, your chin covered in spit and thick ropes of cum. and you're so dizzy and needy, his hand covering your eyes, leaving you a complete, utter mess. :3

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ghostssweetgirl · 1 year

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hii again <3

this request is a litttlleee bit darker than usual but here we go

how would 141 react when someone slips something in readers drink at a bar?? like would ghost immediately stand up and beat the mf up?? 🥹

hi! omg they would all stand up and immediately beat some ass frfr & i LOVE dark stuff, dw :) <3 i'm not that good at writing action scenes but i hope this is goooood bc i do love the idea that they would fight for u

TF141 and How They'd React to Someone Slipping Something Into Your Drink

cw: alcohol intake, mentions of drugs, violence & blood

Captain John Price

He took the team out for drinks, sitting around the bar top. Everyone was having their own conversation, and it made his heart happy to see his people laughing with smiling faces.

While he was in a corner seat, he was making sure to keep an eye out on his team, as a good captain should.

You turned around for a minute, distracted. Soon as you weren't looking, some creep had sprinkled a powdered form of a drug into your drink, causing it to fizzle.

Of course, you didn't notice as you were watching a group of people playfully argue over their pool game.

You jumped back around when all of a sudden your captain's hands were at this guy's throat.

"You really thought you'd get away with that?" Price growled.

"Mind your fuckin' business, will you?" the creep retorted.

You made eye contact with Price, confused as to what was happening. "What the fuck," you whispered.

"Take it outside," the bartender said.

"Gladly, sir," Price chuckled darkly, dragging the guy by his shirt.

A few moments later, Price returned, kindly smiling at you. You could see the adrenaline pumping through his veins at his reddened face.

"Let's order you a new drink, yeah? Fucker ruined this one."

John 'Soap' MacTavish

You took a few sips out of your first drink, setting it down.

You smiled around at your comrades, happy to be there. A random chick walked up to you, asking you what you recommended her to order as she was new here and she just turned of age to start drinking.

You were busy chatting away, getting to know her, not noticing the random arm swooping around you, drugging your beverage.

Soap sitting next to you, picked up your drink and swiftly got up without a word.

"You okay, Soap?" you turned to him. You recognized the look in his eyes - anger. "M-my drink! What are you doing with it?"

He cornered the guy, not saying a word. His chest rose and fell heavily as he tilted his head, throwing the drink in the man's face before punching the shit out of him. He tried to fight back, missing his swing as Soap got him on the ground.

The bartender held his hands up, trying to politely ask them to take it outside but Soap was too quick in his actions.

Blood quickly splattered across the concrete floor, as well as across Soap's face and uniform.

"Get the fuck outta here," Soap demanded him, towering above him as he cowardly rose off the ground, basically tucking his tail as he ran out of the bar door. Soap looked at the bartender and back at the blood. "I'll clean it up."

He returned to his seat shortly after, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. "Let's get you a fresh drink, lass."

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

You were laughing at one of Price's jokes with your drink in hand. As you laughed, your hand went outwards, giving perfect access for some weirdo to walk up and put a drug in it.

Gaz watched the interaction silently, taking your drink away from you while you wouldn't notice it.

In your drunkenness, you ordered a new drink, and it was quickly given to you but as you turned around, Gaz was gone. You looked around the building, and to your surprise he was face to face with someone, having a silent, heated conversation with someone.

The guy held his hands up in defense, seeming to try to explain himself.

Gaz looked at you, seeing your worried face. The creep met your gaze and he winked at you, his lips were moving but you couldn't tell what he said.

When suddenly, Gaz smiled. You couldn't tell if it was a genuine smile or the type of smile you give someone when you're really about to give it to them.

It was the latter. Gaz hiked his knee up, bringing the man's face down to connect with it sharply. Blood painted a small patch into Gaz's pants and blood leaked down the man's face. Clearly disoriented, he tried to fight back but Gaz landed one last blow before the man held his head down, regaining his balance, shortly leaving afterwards.

The bartender sighed, walking over with cleaning supplies and Gaz helped him out.

"What... was that about, Garrick?" you whispered.

"Don't worry 'bout it. Enjoy your 'good' drink," he rolled his eyes, and from that you could tell what had happened, happy to have been around your teammates when this happened.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

You had finished quite a handful of drinks, making sure this was your last one.

You took a few first sips before setting it down, joining the conversation with your teammates.

Ghost, as usual, was quiet. Nodding along and joining the conversation when needed. He had been keeping his eyes peeled for something to happen.

Price complimented you and Ghost's teamwork, which you happily thanked him and smiled at Ghost who nodded at you, but his eyes weren't on you. They were focused at the left side of you.

You felt a presence, and before you could turn around it was gone. Looking back around, Ghost was gone, too. Damn, that was quick.

Trying to shrug it off, you go to grab your drink but couldn't find it. Now, what the fuck?

You look around confused, seeing your teammates eyeing the corner, so you follow their gaze.

Seeing Ghost, towering over someone, hand on his knife. Your eyes widened, hoping he didn't have to use it. He held your missing cup up to the man's face as if he was interrogating him. He was.

The man was near crying, lips stammering as he tried to explain himself, but Ghost wasn't having it. Ghost must have said something to set the guy off because he thought it would be a good idea to try and push past Ghost. The glass shattered from Ghost's grip. His body tensed up before one large hand clasped around the creep's throat, lifting him up the wall. He gasped for air until his face scrunched in pain as Ghost's fist met it with a violent punch. Then another. And another.

The bartender seemed annoyed, but Ghost couldn't give a shit. He let go of the now-unconscious man, letting his body fall to the ground.

Ghost sighed as he sat back down, nodding at you. You awkwardly smiled, putting two and two together on what happened.

"Thanks, Ghost..." you said.

"Want a fresh drink, luv? Sorry 'bout your last one," he asked.

"After that, yeah..."

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midnightcrw · 6 months

Text

"Simon, seriously, one of us should take the wheel," you attempted to reason with him, but his determination was as stubborn as a mule.

"No!" Simon snapped, clearly offended by the barrage of jokes about his driving skills.

It all began with Soap playfully taunting Simon's subpar driving, and Gaz, Price, and you couldn't resist joining in. He was determined to prove his driving wasn't as bad as you all claimed.

With determination, Simon herded you all into the car. You squeezed into the passenger seat, while the other three were squished like sardines in the back. Soap on the left, Gaz on the right, and poor Price caught in the middle.

"Why am I stuck in the middle?" Price groaned, sandwiched between Soap and Gaz.

"Because you'd leap out of this car at the first opportunity," Simon grumbled.

"Maybe I should call Laswell, just in case we don't survive this," you mumbled, already reaching for your phone.

"I heard that," Simon said, snatching your phone and stashing it in his pocket.

Without a word of warning, he roared the car to life, making all four of you flinch.

"Captain, I've never told you this, but you're like a father to me. I love you, man," Gaz turned to Price, pouring out his affection.

"I love you too, Kyle," Price said, patting Gaz on the shoulder.

"This seems like the perfect moment to admit it. Captain, I may have been the one who accidentally blew up half your office," Soap confessed.

"THAT WAS YOU!?"

"IT WAS AN ACCIDENT, I SWEAR!"

"Shut up!" Simon growled as he revved the engine.

"How did this happen?" Laswell stood in the hospital room, looking utterly disappointed. All of you were sprawled on the hospital bed, sporting various bruises and a couple of broken bones.

Without uttering a word, all eyes turned to Simon, who defiantly crossed his arms.

"Simon, we discussed this. No driving for at least a year," Laswell scolded with her hands on her hips.

"I don't care."

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youronlydarlin · 3 months

Text

warning: none, cat hybrid Si being kinda whole lotta clingy, fluff–ish??

Cat hybrid! Simon acting cold towards you as if he isn't actively purring just by having you around. It's loud, and he sounds like a motor engine. There's been one too many occasions where Price had to give you meetings privately, because Simon cannot physically focus on anything else when you're in the room. All wide eyed, and slow blinks while his tail gently sways.

Simon's hiss is more like a growl, and it once scared the everliving shit out of Soap, all because he made the mistake of "claiming" your seat. Which is right next to Simon.

Has threatened to claw our poor boy Kyle if he doesn't tell about the status of your relationship after he's noticed you two hang out quite often.

Stares into Price's eyes as if he's trying to possess him into pairing you two up for every mission. Will not stop until he agrees. So now you got the old man giving you info about your next deployment. Sweating like he's being held at gunpoint.

a/n: M' sorry about this, I jus' wanted to get something out by the hour. This was also not proofread lol. Have a wonderful day, sweethearts!

Yours, truly,

–dolly

#cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod imagine #cod x reader fluff #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader fluff #x gn reader #x female reader #x male reader

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charliemwrites · 6 days

Text

Guilty By Association Commission from the very sweet and patient @soleilak

You (Callsign: Giggles, Gigs for short) are a medic on temporary assignment with the 141. The only problem? You're a former member of Graves' Shadow Company.

Content: Injury, angst, power imbalance, fingering and oral (reader receiving)

“Get your arse in gear, Gigs!”

Already exhausted and aching, the rough bark of your temporary captain urges your heavy feet faster. Gunfire sprays all around – you’re so addled you can’t tell if it’s enemy or friendly. All you know are your orders, a cry of survival in the uneven pounding of your heart. A bullet plows into the ground dangerously close to your foot.

Just a few meters ahead, Gaz curses and tumbles to the ground, hat lost. It’s not even a decision to alter your course. You can’t tell instantly what the damage is; if he’s been hit or just tripped. So you tuck and dive, grabbing an arm and leg as your back rolls across his chest. The momentum gets the two of you up and moving again, adrenaline taking the edge off his weight.

“Get us to the trees and I can run again!” he shouts in your ear.

You settle your blurry vision on the forest line ahead. Blessed cover – and your extraction point just a mile further. Goal set, you push through the pain of bruised ribs, a wrenched arm, and the ricochet of a bullet across your thigh. You wheeze your way well past the tree line, weaving between trunks until Kyle’s palm smacks at your side.

“We’re good, we’re good,” he says.

You grunt as you set him down, give him the quickest onceover in the history of medics. His calf is bleeding, just above the tops of his boots. It’s an ugly wound; it’ll need packing – but he can survive until exfil.

“Where the fuck are you two?!” Price growls through your headset.

Kyle pats your shoulder and takes off again, only the slightest limp indicating his injury. You grit your teeth and try to follow his example.

No one helps you into the chopper when you’re the last on the ladder. You’re not surprised, but it still stings. Salt on the day’s wounds.

Once the heli is up in the air, you scoot over to help Kyle with the wound on his calf. It’s almost hypnotic, the press-wind-press-wind of packing the deep gouge. Almost like unspooling your own tension through the care of a teammate. Every inch of bandage seems to amplify your own pains, though, as the mission high ebbs.

You hurt.

When Kyle’s done, you sit back a bit to assess him for any other wounds. The twitch of his mouth and slight bob of his head tells you he’s sorted, though – and it’s more thanks than you usually get.

“Where the hell were you?” Price demands.

“I got held up, sir,” you admit. Had been ambushed by two men you thought were on another floor. Bad luck, that. Or just poor preparation on your part. Your side twinges as you ease yourself into a seat. “Won’t happen again.”

Price grunts, mollified. “See that it doesn’t.”

You get maybe thirty seconds of peace before Soap’s voice cuts through the tentative peace.

“Gonnae take care o’ that or keep bleedin’ all over Nik’s seat?” he teases. Or at least it would be, if not for the sharp glint in his eyes.

What’s that saying about sins of the father? Well, Phillip Graves was definitely not your father, nor was General Shepherd – though he was old enough to be. In their absence, it seems you’re paying for their crimes regardless.

“Right,” you sigh, tearing off the bottom of your shirt, “sorry, Nik.”

“Just stay alive to clean it up, eh?” he replies jovially.

It’s not much of a joke, but you laugh anyway. You don’t live up to your callsign much nowadays, so you’ll take the levity when you can.

You tie off the makeshift bandage with a grunt and lean your head back, too uncomfortable to doze off.

At least the infirmary is a friendly sight. The staff are always grateful for an extra set of hands – even if they once belonged to a Shadow. And you have a lot of time to help since you’re not encouraged (never mind invited) to any non-professional activities with the 141. Working with the nurses during all that extra time has gained you some friends at least.

Dana is on call when you limp in. She fusses about you looking like the walking dead – then goes on to tell regale you with details from her current first-time watch of the show. The stream of words soothes you in the quiet little treatment room.

“Think we need an x-ray, dove?” she asks, prodding at your already discolored ribs.

“Wouldn’t help,” you sigh, “we can just wrap ‘em and call it.”

“Alright, dear, but you know what to do if it gets worse.”

“’Course,” you answer, summoning a grin, “can’t be keelin’ over before your nephew leaves that tart.”

“Oh, don’t even get me started – you know what she said at Sunday dinner?”

You giggle through her undoubtedly embellished story until she gets to your thigh – and the terrible bandaging.

“A piece of your shirt,” she scolds.

“My bag was too far, and my ribs hurt,” you complain.

“And what are all those big burly men for then, eh?” she huffs.

You shake your head. “I can’t ask them to help.”

Dana scowls past your hip. “Just because you’re the medic—”

“Pardon.”

You jolt in surprise at Captain Price in the doorway. Christ, he takes up the breadth of it too, shoulders brushing the jamb on either side. Even mission-dirty and stern-looking, he’s a hell of a welcome sight – though an unexpected one.

You try to sit up at some semblance of attention, but he waves you off. Can’t say you’re not grateful, unable to help wincing as you lie back.

You don’t notice him pause as Dana washes the wound, too busy sucking air through your nose.

“What’s… the damage?” he asks carefully.

You open your mouth to answer, but Dana beats you to it.

“Contused ribs, sprained shoulder, and a bullet wound to the thigh,” she rattles off. You’re always impressed by the undercurrent of disapproval and accusation she manages to weave into each word. “Not to mention dehydration and sleep deprivation. You’ve been staying up again, haven’t you?”

You clear your throat and turn your eyes skywards. “Oh, look at the ceiling. What a lovely ceiling.”

She clicks her tongue and begins packing the wound as you had for Gaz.

“Bullet wound?” Price asks sharply. Your eyes flick guiltily to him. “Why the hell am I hearing about this now?”

“It’s just a graze, sir,” you reply. “Sergeant Garrick’s was worse.”

His jaw does that thing you secretly (ashamedly) drool over, where it tightens and jumps. You know it’s not good but hey, silver linings right?

He doesn’t ream you out though. Just crosses his burly arms and lets out a long, heavy breath. You’re… not really sure what that means.

“Debrief at 0700 tomorrow, Gigs,” he says, voice unusually subdued.

“Yessir,” you reply dutifully.

As always, a strange mix of relief and disappointment twists in your chest as he walks away. Talking to him is a bit like being under a microscope – if that microscope was ready to brand you a low-down, no-good, dirty, rotten traitor at the first hint of suspicious activity.

You get it, you do. Graves and Shadow Company tried to kill Soap and Ghost, Los Vaqueros, and committed unspeakable atrocities. As much history as you had with him, he deserved what came to him, and Shepherd will deserve the same when he’s found.

Not that your hands were clean before Las Almas, but you drew the line when the orders came. Couldn’t bear to detain or shoot the friends you’d made in Los Vaqueros, or join the hunting party for Soap and Ghost. You’d been labelled a turncoat by your own teammates, thrown into a cell to be “court-martialed.”

Kate Laswell coming to your rescue was a second chance, a small-time miracle that you’ve been determined to earn ever since. In your more pathetic moments, usually in the small, dark, lonely hours of sleepless nights, you wonder how much it will take. How long you’ll be guilty by association.

At least this isn’t shaping up to be one of those nights. You’re half asleep by the time Dana sends you off, arm chilly from the IV fluids she bullied you into. For once, you might get a few decent hours.

Your second surprise of the night comes just outside your barracks door. Soap is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, head back and eyes closed. Awake, though. His index finger is tapping a steady but rapid pace on his bicep.

“Soap?” you say, alerting him. “Did you… need me for something? You’re not injured, are you?”

He straightens up, drops his arms to his side. You pause a noticeable distance away, uncertainty leashing you to the safety of space. Not that you feel threatened. His posture is the loosest it’s been around you since… well, since before Las Almas went to hell.

“’Course no’, I woulda – tha’s not why I’m here.”

“Oh…” You process the strange wording. “Why are you here, then?”

He shifts his weight, a little line appearing between his brows as he seems to gather himself.

“I’m here to apologize.”

You blink. “Huh?”

“Look, what I said during exfil – it was bang outta order. You’ve been nothin’ but good to us ‘n I’m still holdin’ on to old shite.”

You shift, adjust the stupid flimsy sling for your sore shoulder. “It’s… not that old,” you reason, “and I don’t blame you, either. Not after everything.”

“Still, ya did the right thing back then – and ya’ve proven yourself half a dozen times over, besides. I’ve got no reason to treat you like an enemy.”

You swallow past the lump in your throat. It feels like you’ve swallowed a grenade; any moment the pin is going to come out and an explosion of gory emotion will splatter the walls.

“Thanks, Soap.”

He grunts something about “not thanking him” and ducks his head, shuffling past you.

“Seriously,” you say, voice strained from keeping it even. “I really appreciate it.”

He pauses, gives you a genuinely kind look. “Rest up, lass.”

It’s the best you’ve slept in a long while – after you cry into your pillow, that is.

At 0700 the next day, you’re in Price’s office, sore but in high spirits. Gaz sat next to you and Soap said good morning at breakfast. Even Ghost seemed less frosty than usual, grunting at you in acknowledgement when you’d sat down.

Of course, the good luck couldn’t last.

The debrief itself is fine. You speak when it’s your turn, listen when it isn’t. About as normal as it gets for a special ops squad.

It’s as the rest of the task force is filing out the door that the other shoe drops.

“Gigs, a word,” Price calls.

You freeze mid-step, shoot Gaz a panicky glance. He glances over your shoulder, snorts, and pats your arm in solidarity. Not as helpful as he thinks.

With a deep breath, you pivot back around. The door closes behind you with a damning click. You can’t even hide your hands behind your back to fidget at parade rest – your arm needs to stay in the sling for the rest of the day.

“We need to discuss yesterday,” Price says, palms flat on his desk.

You tilt your head. Wasn’t that what the debrief was for?

“Sir?” you ask. “If I – did I do something wrong?”

He deflates a bit, big shoulders dropping before he pushes himself up and rounds the desk.

“No, you’re not in trouble,” he explains, “but I have concerns.”

When he gestures for you to take one of the visitor seats, you do. You’re a bit surprised when he takes the other – though you can’t help an appreciative glance while his attention is elsewhere. He practically dwarfs the stupid little chair, and the way he spreads his thighs trying to get comfortable…

“Concerns, sir?” you parrot, trying to corral your scrambled braincells.

“What you said in the infirmary,” he begins, expression solemn, “is that really how you feel?”

“What I said…?” You try to recall anything of note from last night, but most of what came out of your mouth is a blur at best. “What did I say?”

He leans forward, lacing his scarred fingers together. You try not to stare, though the way he rubs at the knuckle of one thumb with the other is distracting. It’s an unusual gesture for the disciplined, determined man you’ve been honored to call captain for months now.

“That you can’t ask us to help you.”

A block of ice drops into your stomach.

“That’s not – I know you guys would help me if I needed it,” you hurry to say.

He gives you a long look. “Then why don’t you ever ask? You were shot and didn’t say a bloody thing.”

You shift, unable to meet his eyes. Can’t find the words to answer. It’s not that you didn’t think you could ask. It just didn’t feel right with the bad blood between you, Soap, and Ghost. Besides, you’re the medic, you’re supposed to be the one fixing everyone else – not the other way around. What use are you otherwise?

You try to explain this to Price, but you sense (from the grim set to his handsome features) that it’s not helping.

“I’ve been a shite captain to you, haven’t I?” he sighs.

You jump. “No, sir! You’re a great captain. I trust you with my life.”

He chuckles, but it’s devoid of humor. Sounds almost self-deprecating.

“I’ve not done a bloody thing to earn it.”

You shake your head. “Sir, you’ve kept me alive for months now. That’s plenty.”

Beyond that, he’s always been fair with you. Doesn’t give you shit assignments or the most dangerous roles in missions. Always makes sure you’re alive and accounted for. Calls you out for mistakes and faults, sure, but it’s for the sake of you and everyone else. He’s been just as ready to pat your shoulder for a clever maneuver or praise a good shot.

“You know damn well it’s not,” he scolds.

You huff, almost amused. “Sir, with all due respect, get off the cross we need the wood.”

His eyebrows jump up nearly to his hairline. Normally, you wouldn’t dream of being so cavalier with Price of all people. Soap’s truce last night gives you the confidence to continue.

“I know you didn’t trust me as a former Shadow at first,” you say, “but you looked out for me anyway. After the first few missions… it seemed like things evened out.”

He sighs and sits back, running a hand down his face.

“Laswell vouched for you – it’s the only reason I didn’t send you right back on that plane,” he admits. A small but genuine smile curls his mouth. “And then you put your life on the line for my boys time and time again.”

You mirror him, the tension in your shoulders easing away with each word.

“I knew things weren’t great with the others, but I thought it was best if I kept out of it. Let you lot sort it out so long as you all cooperated when it mattered,” he continues. “I didn’t realize how bad it got, and that’s on me. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head and lightly tap your boot against his. “It wasn’t the wrong call, sir. I think things are going to get better from here on out.”

He hums, eyes searching your gentle smile for any hint of insincerity. But you believe it, and it must show, because his eyes crinkle as he smiles back.

“Speaking of better,” he says, clearing his throat. “Mind if I take a look at those ribs? Dana had some choice words for me this morning.”

You giggle and tug your shirt from your waistband, hiking the hem up high to show the reddish-purple mottling all over your left side. Price makes a noise of sympathy, easing out of his chair to the carpeted floor. On his knees, he inches closer, leaning in to inspect the damage.

“How’d this happen?” he asks, voice lowering.

His fingertips skim over the edges of the bruises, featherlight. Your voice gets strangled in your throat as tingles race across your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Um, hostile kicked me. A lot.”

His eyes flick up to yours, hard as ice. “Dead?”

“Yessir.”

His gaze softens, a proud, smug quirk to his lips. “Atta girl.”

You can’t fully suppress a shiver. It’s not just the gentle, considerate touches. It’s the purring praise from a man you’ve admired and harbored a sizeable crush on.

“Cold?” he asks.

This is your chance to wave it off. To pretend you are not so inappropriately infatuated with a man you thought only tolerated you until a minute ago. A little white lie, you could smooth your shirt back down, and be on your way.

But you don’t want to do that. Not really.

And from the way his pupils are slowly, steadily subsuming his irises, neither does he.

“No, sir,” you whisper.

His slow exhale caresses across your tender ribs.

“Then would you be comfortable if I checked on your ‘little graze’ as well?” It’s a tease, but also a genuine check of your boundaries. Another out, freely and openly given, that only solidifies your resolve to see where he’s going with this.

“Yessir,” you answer, shifting to get at your belt.

Price tsks, though, big hands spreading across each thigh and urging you down again.

“Now, now, don’t aggravate that shoulder,” he murmurs. “Let me help like a good captain.”

You swallow back an embarrassing noise as deft hands unbuckle your belt, thumb the button of your pants open, and drag the zipper down tooth by tooth. His thick, warm forearms rest on your thighs the entire time, keep them spread to accommodate his wide shoulders. He’s in no rush to continue his “checkup,” toying along the length of your waistband before easing it down.

“Lift up for me, darling, there we are,” he murmurs. You gasp softly as his palms brush your ass while sliding your pants down. Then outright squeak as he squeezes a cheek in each hand, a low noise of admiration rumbling in his throat.

“Gorgeous girl,” he chuckles. “Gorgeous arse.”

Your face feels hot as he tugs your pants down to your ankles, though the square of gauze and tape on the back of your thigh is long revealed. It takes conscious effort not to squirm under his hot gaze, praying a wet spot isn’t already visible on your panties.

“Let’s just get this one free…” He works the pantleg over your boot, leaving the other pooled around the laces. “Now then.”

You bite into your lip as he hauls your calf up into his shoulder, propping your leg up to get a clear view of your thigh.

“Not bled through,” he notes, tracing the neat edges of the medical tape. “You’ve been taking good care of it. Well done.”

You can’t help the little twitch that evokes, your whole body reacting to the deep timbre of his voice. He’s not oblivious to his effect on you, a glint in his eye as his bristly jaw brushes the inside of your knee.

“T-told you, it wasn’t too bad,” you manage weakly.

He hums and your pussy clenches helplessly around nothing. His eyes flick down and you know it’s all over.

“And what about this, hm?” he asks. You whimper as his thumb skims the lace edge of your panties. “Have you been taking care of this?”

Flustered and yet so, so turned on, you can only shake your head. He coos in mock disappointment, rubbing slow circles across your labia, closer and closer to where you’re aching and needy.

“It’s alright sergeant,” he soothes, “your captain will take care of you.”

Except he only rubs you through your panties A maddening pressure back and forth along the wet seam of your cunt, never delving deeper. You break down in hardly any time at all.

“Sir, please,” you whine, wriggling. He’s quick to brace you still again, leisurely movements never faltering.

“Please what, darling?” he teases.

“I-I need…” You whimper with embarrassment, squeezing your eyes shut. “I need you to take care of me, please, captain.”

He practically growls as he tears through the hip of your panties, tossing them aside in a sodden heap on the ground. With two fingers, he parts your labia, eyes hungrily drinking in the cream shimmering between them.

“All this and I’ve barely touched you,” he rasps, awed.

You nearly sob with desperation for something, anything. He shushes your fussy little noises with his thumb, dipping into the pool of slick at your entrance. Gets the pad soaked before drawing a line up to your swollen, sensitive clit. Your mouth falls open as he starts drawing tight, firm circles over that bundle of nerves.

He treats your body and your pleasure with all the confidence and competence you’ve come to expect of John Price. It takes shockingly little time for him to learn just how to press, how fast to rub, the patterns and circuits that get your legs shaking. And that’s before he twists his wrist and sinks a finger inside you.

“Practically sucking me in, love,” he murmurs, petting at your walls. You shudder and wordlessly beg for more, rocking your hips. “Need another already, greedy girl?”

He doesn’t even wait for your nod before stuffing you with another, curling and scissoring, exploring. You keen as he finds a sweet, sensitive spot inside you and begins toying with it, his thumb still swiping relentlessly at your clit.

He settles into a rhythm that has you moaning and keening, the heel of your boot digging into his shoulder blade. All the while he showers you in praise and encouragement, the dirtiest compliments that make you clench down tightly on his hand. Your body feels like it’s on fire, every nerve ending lit up with pleasure.

It’s builds and builds and builds, never quite cresting. You’re near tears when you moan his name, trying to find some leverage or angle to finally tip you over the edge.

“Do you need to cum, doll?”

“Yes, yes,” you cry, “please, sir, I wanna cum for you. Please, I’m s-so close.”

He hums, bracing your thigh with his free hand as he leans in. Your foggy brain doesn’t have enough time to process before he latches onto your clit and a third finger bullies into you. You wail. Your thigh twinges from the dull pressure of his shoulder, but the slight pain only adds a delicious edge to the pleasure.

His tongue swipes across your puffy clit once, twice, three times and you’re gone. You gush all over his hand, his beard, onto the chair. Your hips jerk as he works you over, fingers abusing your g-spot relentlessly despite how tightly you clamp down. Your body feels nuclear, nerves popping like firecrackers.

He only relents when the waves of ecstasy threaten to drown you in overstimulation. He eases his fingers from your twitchy hole, making room for him to lick you clean. It’s loud and obscene, yet there’s no room left for embarrassment anymore. You shiver and pant in the aftermath, your body unravelling into a puddle.

“Wh-what about you?” you ask as he begins straightening out your clothes. There’s an absolutely delectable-looking bulge in his fatigues that you’re dying to get your tongue on.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “If you want more –” (“I do.”) “- then you’ll have to wait until you’re healed up. Non-negotiable.”

You try to pout, but the effort is thwarted when he chucks you gently under the chin.

“C’mon, let’s have a lie down.”

He steadies you as you wobble to the couch off to the side, lying down first and letting you cuddle up between his legs. It’s a comfort more than you would have expected from a clandestine little triste, but you should know better than to doubt your captain. Head resting on his chest, you let yourself drift for a while, lulled by his fingers carding through your hair.

“Price…?” you ask after a while.

“Hm?”

“You didn’t do this just to… I dunno, make up for something, right?”

He huffs. “No, sweetheart. I’ve been arse over teakettle for a while. Staring like a complete muppet when you train.”

You hide a grin against his collarbone. “Good. I thought I’d have to start making things up for you to owe me.”

His chuckle rocks through you, and for the first time in a while, it feels a bit like home.

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #commissioned work #john price x reader #captain john price #tf 141 #medic reader #former shadow reader

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