(Poly 141 X Fem Reader)

Leave a mark

MINORS DNI

Monster!John "Soap" Mactavish (with Poly Monster!141 at the end) x Male Reader

Cw: it starts off with Soap but the rest r mentioned and written but not as much as soap, marking with markers, nothing else I believe lmk

Silly thought but like imagine a monster reader who has crazy fast regeneration. Like deep cuts heal in seconds. Maybe you're a ghoul who just has crazy regen, or something like that.

Anyways,

Wouldn't a relationship between Soap, who loves leaving bites and see the aftermath due to his instincts as a werewolf and you who literally heals in seconds be interesting?

He loves getting fucked by you, but everytime he leaves a bit unsatisfied. It's not because you can't make him cum or anything, hell you can pull multiple orgasms from the guy and you have.

It's just that he can't leave satisfied knowing that he left a mark on you. He has bit you so much but the marks just won't stay. With the other members he can clearly see the marks he left on their neck and shoulders, even with Price who due to his dragon blood heals faster but the marks still stay for a day or two.

So everytime you two fuck, even if his ass if filled to the brim and his balls are empty he still whines because he can't leave his mark on you. You're a member of the 141, his pack, so it pains him that he can't put a claim on you like he has with the others.

So one day you get a bit creative.

One night in your room where he's riding on your cock, bouncing up and down while you lay your back on the bed, your hands gripping his hips and slamming him down on you as you cum. He leans down and bites as hard as he can on you as the feeling of you filling him up makes him cum. Pulling away and only being able to whine because he can't even admire his mark before it fades away.

"Aw, is puppy unsatisfied?" You tease and chuckle. And before he could insist that he was, you reached to the bedside table and picked up a red permanent marker, "why don't you mark me with this instead?" You say handing him the marker.

He huffs out a laugh at your little solution, but it's the best you got since you can't really make yourself regenerate slower. So he indulges, testing the marker on the back of your hand, the ink incredibly opaque so it stands out against your skin. Then he draws a bite mark at your neck then adds "Soap's Claim" in big letters, covering the whole left side of your neck.

He leans back, the bright red against your skin and the obvious letters, he finally sighs a sigh of relief.

It doesn't go unnoticed as well (just how he likes it)

The other members of the task force noticing Soap's eyes seem a bit brighter and his tail has been swaying peacefully the whole day. And that's where you enter, neck bare for everyone to see (it's the least you can do) Soap grins, happy to finally be able to show off his claim on you.

And now they want to have their names on your body too.

It's all color coordinated too now, Price who loves to write across your shoulder blades, with words like "Price's hoard" or just a simple "Price" with a heart next to it, it's simple but huge.

Gaz with a bright blue marker who likes to do it on your lower back (because he can also rest his head on your ass) writing something like "Gaz was here" and likes to draw wings on you. (Wing themed tramp stamp with 141 between the wings anyone?)

And Ghost with either white or black who loves to mark your chest, either a simple "ghost" or "Simon Riley" on each pec. Also likes to draw a ghost doodle on top of your heart.

And if you five fuck together, you aren't the only one who ends up having ink on you, but you'd have the most. And when you wake up to find a big arrow pointing to your dick and ass that says "Property of 141" written in multiple colors, you'd wish you could show it off.

MDNI

Working at a restaurant with 141! (Part 1)

Let's get this out of the way, the restaurant fucking sucks. Don't even know how it's still open. The food is terrible. The owner is an incompetent drunk who's never there. You got referred to the job from a friend of a friend. You did an interview with the head chef/manager, John. He hired you because you were hot.

"The fuckin ass on that one, huh?"

Just like any man that works in a restaurant, they're all horny fucks who love to tease you. You'd run back to the kitchen and ask to tweak an order. Price would wink and say:

"Next time it's gonna cost ya."

When it gets slow (which was all the time), you'd sit in the back and chat about how they met and what they did with their lives. They all get paid under the table for various reasons. Johnny takes smoke breaks with you, sometimes Price joins. Gaz pours shots for everyone after "busy" nights (busy meaning there was an hour where there were two tables to serve instead of one). Ghost... well he's strictly work. Sometimes he engages in banter with the guys, but he only acknowledges you when needed.

Your first month flies by, you basically get paid to sit around and talk with the most charming men on the planet, and Simon.

"He'll warm up eventually. Just gotta loosen 'em up, just like any tight ass."

Soap smirked as he leaned against a counter while everyone was wrapping up for the night.

"Don't you have dishes to put away?"

Ghost snapped while wiping down his station. At least he was nice to look at.

You and Gaz would roll up the forks and knives talking about bullshit, knees touching. Soap and you would light each others smokes by touching one lit end to the unlit one, all while still holding the cigarettes in your mouths (he called it a cigarette kiss). Price would constantly make food for you:

"Gotta plump you up 'fore it starts getting cold, yeah?"

He'd look you up and down while sliding you a basket of fries. And Simon? Cold as ever. Even when he started driving you to and from work because your car broke down. He drove like a madman, but it was totally silent. You made the mistake of reaching for the radio once, he gave a admonitory grunt and you snatched your hand away.

As time went on, you got comfortable with everyone and they got comfortable with you. It started with suggestive jokes.

"Simon's just straightforward, doesn't beat around the bush."

Price said one day while prepping vegetables with Ghost.

"What are you talking about? He beats around the bush all the time Price, you know that."

Soap walked by with a shit eating grin while he was carrying a bucket of dishes to the back. Uproar from the guys. Ghost storms off following Johnny, knife in hand. You want to stop him, but Gaz places a hand on your shoulder.

"Best not to do that, just let 'em settle that amongst themselves."

Johnny comes back disheveled, wearing a different shirt. Simon is stone faced as usual as he goes back to prep. It only got worse after that.

You'd watch as the boys messed with each other more; pats on the back, that turns to squeezes on the shoulders, that turned to slaps on the ass.

"They're just handsy," you think to yourself.

Eye contact that lingers for a second too long.

"They're just close friends," you think to yourself.

Compliments that boarder on harassment.

"They're just joking around," you think to yourself.

Then you entered the walk-in freezer, only to make direct eye contact with Johnny as he has Kyle's dick down his throat.

"Oh, uh-huh..." you think to yourself.

You didn't look at their faces for a week, they acted as if nothing happened. Then, the flirting only got worse.

"Behind!"

Price would yell while grinding up against Simon's ass when passing behind him.

"Yes, Chef."

He'd respond while he continued cooking, unfazed. They seemingly shared clothes: the younger guys preferred to don John and Simon's apparel all the time. You stopped going into the walk-in for a while, you figured you'd give Gaz and Soap some privacy (although they didn't seem to mind an audience). Christ, was everyone fucking everyone here?

You were taking a smoke break with Price when he leaned back on the railing and adjusted himself, it wasn't really adjusting himself as it was more him gripping his thick dick and looking directly into your eyes. You nearly choked as he smiled.

Ghost threw you a hoodie when he dropped you off one night. It started raining before you got home and you were complaining about just getting your hair done. You tried to give it back but he refused to take it.

"Keep it. I don't care about that one anyways."

He shrugged. You'd wear the oversized hoodie to bed, the smell was comforting. Smoky, dusty, boozy, like Javanese vetiver. It smelled like a grown man. Delicious. Accidentally wore it to work one day when you were in a rush getting ready. That started a trend for the rest of them to get you to wear their clothes. It less of a trend and more of a competition honestly. They'd "accidentally" spill drinks or food on you.

"No worries, I've got an extra shirt in my car!"

They'd have a wide, cheeky smile plastered on their faces while giving you their shirt. Of course, they wouldn't take them back either; so you had a growing collection of huge shirts that you'd wear around your apartment. Eventually, you had to go back to the walk-in. Thankfully, there were no exhibitionists present. You were reaching to grab some ketchup when the door opened. You and Johnny stared at each other for a long moment.

"Need help getting that, bonnie?"

Before you could respond he was reaching over you, pressing his chest on your back. He handed you the bottle while his dick grew hard on your ass. He was breathing hard in your ear, waiting for your reaction. You pushed back on him and that's all he needed, he gripped your hips and grinded into you. Even through your jeans you could feel his dick twitch when you moaned. It was a hot minute of panting while he pulled you back onto him desperately, like he was trying to fuck you right through the denim. The door handle clicked. You both froze, staring at the entryway.

"Johnny?"

Gaz's head popped in. Your face got hot while he stared back and forth at the two of you. One thing led to another, and your pants are around your ankles while Johnny is face first in your wet folds. Kyle is standing behind you, fucking your thighs and leaving sloppy kisses on your neck.

"Pretty doll, how long have ye bin waiting fur this, huh?"

Soap looked up at you with so much adoration, like he was servicing a goddess.

"Gonna cum Johnn-"

Gaz whimpered and bit your shoulder to muffle his groans as he came right between your thighs and cunt. Soap cleaned up the mess greedily, savouring the taste of both your juices. He didn't stop eating you out until you finished. Gaz held you up while your knees buckled when you came undone. Gentlemen they are, pulled up your pants for you and wiped the smeared lipgloss from your face. You stumbled out of the freezer, walking past the kitchen. Price's eyes crinkled as he saw you head out onto the floor.

~

"You shouldn't do that in there. It's unsanitary. And a health code violation."

Simon looked straight ahead as he weaved between cars. You opened your mouth, but no words came to mind, so you just nodded. Your leg bounced nervously. He grabbed your thigh, stopping the movement. His hand stayed there until you were in front of your place. You stared at him, his brown eyes boring into you.

"G'night."

He pulled his hand away, placing both of them on the steering wheel. You walked into your apartment, dizzy with confusion. "What the fuck is going on?"

War, Royalty, and The conqueror PT1

poly 141 x reader (no gender)

Summary:

Your kingdom has been invaded by the neighboring kingdom ruled by the conqueror King John Price. The king had swayed many different people to his side: a disgraced assassin who tried to murder him, a runaway mage prince of the southern kingdoms, and a barbarian who was exiled from his clan. You, along with your parents, are being brought before the king in shackles. Your future is uncertain, but it seems your parents have ulterior motives they intend to use to keep their nobility and their status in court even if that means living under a conqueror. A reader x 141 fantasy AU fanfic. 

Chapter 1: I am an heir not livestock.

WARNING CONTAINS MENTION OF WAR AND SLAVERY

Cold metal surrounds my ankles and wrists, biting into my skin, but the cold metal does little to quell the burning hot anger growing in my gut. These assholes invade our country with no warning, no reason; they didn't grant us the mercy of being able to fight back, and as I'm dragged alongside my father and mother into the throne room of the most feared man in the entire continent, I can't help but know that this could be the end of my life, my family's life, and our legacy. 

The large wooden doors of the throne room open, bringing us inside. I turn my head to see my father straining against the guard who held his arm tautly. The guard, who was tightly gripping my arm, was uncaring about my worries for my parents even as my father received a painful punch to the jaw because of his noncompliance. 

I could feel myself flinch and shiver at the violence; it was simply barbaric! The discard of thousands of years of tradition for what? Some sick conquest? My thoughts were not allowed to be voiced as my parents and I were thrown to the cold marble floor of the throne room.

I grunt at the impact, my shoulder aching in protest. I twist my head to see my parents in a similar position in front of me; my heart aches in my chest at the sight of my parents, my mentors, the ones I care about more than anything, being thrown around carelessly like toys. 

The sight made me rage internally; I know that in my current position anything that I do would just dig our graves deeper.

My mother glances behind her back, giving me a small, apologetic, wary smile that I return in kind. We might not live to see the day that these bastards die, but at least we'll die together as a family. 

“That's quite enough, thank you gentlemen.” The rough voice echoes through the vast throne room, and my head swivels towards the deep timbre of his voice.

My eyes catch the bright gleam of the twisting metal dancing around the regal throne; my teeth grit together as I meet eyes with the person sitting atop the lavish throne. 

King John fucking Price, former grand duke now king, was laid back, relaxing against the throne despite the sharp points protruding from the throne.

The rage kept bubbling in my chest. I looked to my parents, trying to offer them some semblance of comfort. We have lost, and we all know it. 

I keep my head up, daring him to look away. I may have lost my home, and I will likely lose more, but I will not lose my dignity to this tyrant. Movement in the corner of my eyes directs my attention away from the king; it was my parents. 

They were bowing their heads submissively, kneeling on the floor…

“Your majesty, please have mercy on us; we were fools; please spare us!” My father pleads with his head pressed against the floor; I watch the scene unfold with eyes wide; this wasn't real.

There had to be some manipulation, some trick committed by the king prince’s mage, to manipulate me into submission.

My eyes darted towards the mage standing arms crossed next to the king's throne.

The mage's deep brown skin complements the golden robes draped around his shoulders, the flowing fabric pulling taut around his waist by the golden belt. His hands were firmly clasped together, hidden under the flowy sleeves covering his slender arms.

There was no possible way this was an illusion. But why? I turn my head back towards my parents, my eyebrows creasing in confusion; my words catch in my throat as my father continues to plead.

“Your majesty, please have mercy, grant us mercy, allow us to keep living under your rule; we offer our heir up to you as a show of goodwill; please, your majesty, have mercy.” 

I pause my body stilling. I did not dare to breathe as I looked at my father in shock.

He was offering me up.

Selling me.

I felt my heart swim as I watched, paralyzed, as the price rose on the regal eyebrow. “Oh? And what use would your heir possibly give me?” he questions, leaning forward, resting his head on his fist.

I watch as my father stutters, fumbling for a response before sputtering a response, “Pleasure! Y-you can use them as you please, your grace! Just have mercy on me and my wife. I beg of you!” My father's words echo throughout the throne room. 

My knees are shaking; bile rises in my throat. I feel sick.

Tears well up in my eyes. I could feel my legs trembling, the world blurred around me, my breath caught in my throat.

I couldn't cry, not here, not in front of my parents…who just sold me off like livestock. I can't cry, not here. 

‘Don’t fucking cry.’ I scowl silently to myself, but the growing pain is tightening in my chest. I can't contain it, my pain, my anger, my hurt. 

A stray tear slips down my cheek, dropping down onto my worn tunic. 

“It seems your heir is quite unhappy with your proposal.” A curt, deep timber voice interrupted my thoughts, and my head snapped up, my eyes scanning for the source of the voice.

My eyes land on a shadowed figure leaning against one of the tall marble pillars that lined the outer walls of the throne room. 

The figure steps forward, and I feel my heart drop deeper into my stomach; the chalky white of a skull reflects the golden light streaming in from the large windows.

The man stepped further forward into the light, a silence of the room being broken by the thudding of boots against the marble floor as the man stepped towards the dais, the light glinting on the surfaces of the dark metal armor that encircled the man's silhouette.

He rose the dais before standing on the other side of the throne.

My heart jolted in my chest. This was no ordinary man; this was the unlikely general.

Rumors had spun that King Price had an assassination attempt sent out after him, but the assassin was captured, and instead of interrogation or execution, King Price spread the assassin and made the assassin a general in his army.

That means that this man was none other than a ghost. The man with no face. 

A deep hum rumbles from Price's throat as he considers the ghost’s words. Before speaking, the guards lining the walls of the throne room stand at attention.

“Take them to the guest wing.” Price commands after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence. 

A pair of guards step towards me, their hands wrapping around my biceps as they tug me towards the door. My feet fumble beneath me, but I quickly regain my footing and begin walking. 

The two guards lead me out of the throne room down winding hallways. My hands were still restrained by the cold metal shackles as well as my ankles, every step I took making them click together. 

My mind is swirling. I was barely focused on where the guards were taking me; I'm still reeling from what my father said…

He was going to use me as a bargaining chip. His own flesh and blood. The disbelief swells up inside me.

‘No, that can't be it. Perhaps my parents think that they can regain our kingdom's freedom by doing this? That had to be it; they had to have a plan. That must be it; they're using this as an opportunity to tear down the conqueror. But…that was against the universal laws of warfare!

Why would my parents possibly do this?’ I think to myself, barely noticing the glances and stares that I'm given as servants pass by, but something catches my attention.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a large window looking out onto a vast garden decorated with many wildflowers and a grand oak tree in the middle, but what caught my attention the most was the man lying beneath the tree, a book laid across his chest as he lay…sleeping? 

The man was wearing loose pants and a leather tunic, but what was most striking about him was his hair, which was slightly bound down the middle of his scalp, the sides of his head shaven down to a light fuzz, beads intertwined into the tightly matted mohawk that split down the man's head.

The guards led me past the window towards a large set of doors where another set of guards stood at attention, ignorant of the entrance. They sidestepped hands clasping around the door handles and prying it open; before I knew it, I was being shoved forward.

I barely had the time to get my bearings before the doors slammed shut behind me. I blinked, and once again tears began to form in my eyes, reality crashing down on me harshly and swiftly. 

A sob catches itself in my throat. I was trapped. Alone in an enemy castle of the man that my parents just sold me to for…pleasure. 

A sickening feeling twists in my gut as the gates finally release themselves, and I let myself cry, my body wracked with sobs as I clutch at my arms, pulling myself into a hug as I lay on the cold wooden floor.

“How in God's name will I survive this?” I ask myself aloud as if the answer would be given to me on a silver platter. The room remains silent save for my small sniffles and choked sobs.

Before I knew it, my eyes grew heavy, and I fell into a slumber I wished I didn't wake from. 

The Benefits of Being a Marine Biologist (Part 3)

Part 1 - Part 2 Merman x transmasc reader Contains: first kiss with your monster boy crush and then you make out. Extreme communication and consent because that's very sexy Warnings: mentions of arousal Length: 1.7k words

You've lost count of how many days you have visited Abalone. The weeks had turned into a blur of begrudgingly working at the laboratory and wringing out any spare time you could to go to the beach to see him.

Today you were coming to visit with a gift. It was silly, really, but you felt compelled to give him something tangible from the human world. He tries his best not to show it, but you suspect he gets lonely when you don't come to visit.

As you walk down the now well-traveled sand path through the grass, you realize you're feeling nervous. But why? You're just going to give him a gift. That's a completely normal thing to do. And Abalone won't be mean to you if he doesn't like it - his grasp of human socialization is loose at best, so he would just tell you what he thinks of it. You take a deep breath as you exit out of the brush onto the beach.

There he was, as always, in the water framed by the sinking orange sun. You've told him he should be more careful in case someone else saw him, but he always dismisses your worries and says he knows how to hide. For his sake you hope that's true.

You run down to the shore, and Abalone comes to the edge of the water to meet you. As you pause to drop your bag in the sand and kick off your shoes, he pulls himself out onto the sand in the very edge of the waves, propping up his head with his hands to watch you. You walk over to sit next to him in the sand.

"You should be careful, if you get beached I don't think I can haul you back into the water."

Without missing a beat he asks, "What is beached?"

"It's when an animal gets too close to the shoreline and gets stuck in the sand. Like you right now," you tease.

"Oh. I have seen that before. Very bad."

You look around at the tiny beach in disbelief. "What on earth managed to beach itself here?"

"Not here," he answered. "Somewhere else. A long time ago."

"Oh? Where else did you live?"

He didn't reply to you, his mood clearly dampened by thinking about the past.

"Nevermind about that. I brought you something! A human trinket for you to keep."

Abalone perked up and looked at you eagerly. "Ooo! Show me!"

Taking a small pouch from your pocket, you explained to him, "Now, this is supposed to be waterproof, so it won't rust. I went into town thinking of something to get for you, and I thought this was pretty perfect."

You take the silver necklace out of its silky bag. Holding it out for him to see, you say, "It's an abalone shell pendant! Because that's your name." You laugh nervously. "It's okay if you don't actually like jewelry, I just thought it would be nice to give you something."

Abalone stared at the necklace silently, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest. Did he really hate it? Had you somehow offended him?

Something changed in his expression. You couldn't quite place it at first, but you quickly realized it was that his cheeks were darkening. He was blushing.

"I… um…" He tried to say something to you, but his voice caught in his throat.

"I'm sorry!" you exclaim, instinctively shifting away from him and clutching the necklace to your chest. "I didn't mean to upset you or anything, I just wanted to do something nice-"

"No, not that," he cut you off. He hid his face in his hands as he said, "For us something like that is asking for courtship."

Oh no. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to- I didn't mean to do anything like that! I'm sorry Abalone, I've made you uncomfortable, haven't I?"

He looked at you with one eye peeking out from between his fingers. "No, it's fine. It is just that… no one would do that for me. Not for real."

He looked so sad, and something came over you. Without thinking you leaned toward him and put a hand over his own on his face. "Why would you think that? You're perfectly lovely."

He didn't move, but he didn't resist your touch either. "There are reasons."

"You don't have to talk about it. It's okay." Your mouth moving faster than your mind, you continued, "Maybe it doesn't mean as much coming from a human, but I do like you a lot. You're funny and sweet and you would never let me get anywhere close to drowning on your watch."

He moved his hands down from his eyes to look at you. "You mean it?"

"Yes." You took his hands into yours and looked into his dark eyes. "What if I do mean it?"

He looked at you blankly as you realized what you had just said. Feeling your own face flushing, you turned and picked up the necklace from where you had dropped it in the sand.

One hand in his, the other holding out your gift, you ask again quietly, "What if I do mean it?"

"… You do?" He whispered, as if afraid to break the quiet tension.

Moving slowly with hesitation, Abalone sat upright in the sand, his tail trailing off into the water. You leaned closer to him, and he gently pulled you toward himself with your hand that he still held. Tentatively leaning in toward each other, your lips meet his. You tasted salt as he slowly pulls away from you.

You look at each other silently, frozen with nervousness. With his sleek body so close to yours, you couldn't deny it any more. Abalone wasn't only an object of your curiosity.

He breaks the silence. "Was that all right?"

You smile at his slight misuse of the word. "Yes," you reply breathlessly. "Definitely."

You lean forward and kiss him again. This time he doesn't move away. He gently puts his arms around you as your lips meet again. And again. Despite his large size, he touches you so softly. His sharp teeth graze your lips.

Without breaking your embrace, you pull yourself onto his lap. You put your arms around his neck and your hands in his hair, and he hugs you to himself a bit tighter. "So pretty," he mumbles when his mouth parts from yours. "Pretty human boy."

Abalone kisses you deeper, his hands on your waist now. You wonder how long he has been waiting for this. How long you have wanted this.

You feel his tongue on your bottom lip, and you can't help but pull away from him giggling. Seeing him frown and his big sad eyes, you quickly say, "I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at you, I promise. Do you have a forked tongue?"

"What?"

"Like is it split down the middle?"

"Maybe?" He stuck out his tongue a bit to show you. It was a darker gray like his hands and tail, and it was indeed forked.

"It is! Like a lizard," you laugh. "See, this is what I'm used to." Your demonstration of a human tongue seemed to amused him.

Abalone pressed his forehead against yours as you mindlessly played with his hair. "Is this bad? For you and me to…" he trailed off.

"I don't think so," you answer quietly. "And maybe, even if it is, I don't care."

Seemingly satisfied with that thought, he gently began kissing you again. Slowly he kissed harder, and you leaned into the pressure. Your hands gripped the hair at the nape of his neck, and his claws poked into your back.

When you were pressed into him nearly as hard as you could be, Abalone carefully flipped you over and laid you down on the sand. Your mind went blank at the sight of him above you, his damp skin glowing in the dying light.

He bent down and continued to kiss you, his mouth trailing down your neck. You felt his teeth on your skin and you gasped quietly. He was giving you gentle love bites, careful not to break the skin but the pinpricks still made you dizzy. His tail was between your legs and you felt his hips pressing into yours. You held his neck and shoulders tighter as your back arched to meet his touch. It didn't take long for you to become hard and wet.

His frantic pace of kisses and bites gradually slowed until he gave you one final kiss on your lips and laid down on top of you, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

"Was that too much?" He shyly mumbled into your shoulder.

You struggle to find your voice again. "… No, not at all."

He flopped over to lie in the sand next to you, hugging his arms to himself and avoiding your gaze. But he does turn to look at you when you quietly say his name.

"That was wonderful." You reach over to take his hand. "Maybe we can do it again?"

He blushed furiously at that, but didn't look away from you. "Yes, maybe." He held up the necklace from wherever the fuck it had ended up in the sand. "Can you help with this?"

You laugh and pull him to sit up with you. You undo the clasp and instruct him how to hold his hair out of the way. Reaching around his neck, you lock your gift in place.

Smiling sweetly, Abalone touched the pendant on his chest. "Thank you."

Wishing you could stay for the rest of the night, you sighed dramatically. "The sun is almost fully down. I really should go now."

He nodded and tilted his head, silently posing the regular question.

"I can come back tomorrow night! And since tomorrow is Friday, I don't have to worry so much about going home."

He grinned at you brightly. "Tomorrow. I have things to do, then." And with that, he slipped back into the shallows to swim away. A flick of his tail splashed you with seawater, and with that he was gone.

You didn't know whether to be excited or worried by his final words. Gathering your things and beginning the trek home, you figured you'd have to wait and see.

AN: thank you all for your patience while I took like two months to finish writing this! I plan for part 4 to be the final part, and it will probably be very long and very explicit :3 Thank you for reading as always xoxo Tip Jar on Ko-Fi (requests/commissions coming soon??)

pls pls pls pls pls pls write something with hound getting a lil chubby during rehab pls i want to see him soft and comfy, being hand fed and cuddled. hound with a little tum from finally having not only enough to eat but enough rest to actually gain a little extra weight pls im in my knees characters getting a lil chub as a sign of healing my beloved

Okay here's a small brain fart for you:

You've gotten fat.

it's a rather egregious exaggeration, according to the two sergeants, but it's the first thing you think of when you look in the mirror. Your hard muscles still bulge beneath your skin when you flex, but now there's a layer of fat cushioning your frame — it smooths the planes of your abdomen, widens the circumference of your thighs and the breadth of your shoulders until you're popping the seams of your clothes, the layer of fat deepening the cleavage between your pecks whenever you cross your arms. Even your cheeks look chubbier than they had before.

You don't look like death warmed over, and you don't know how to feel about it. The psychologist says it's a good thing, your body finally figuring out it can slow down and focus on healing instead of constantly living on the edge of a knife.

But you just don't see it. It feels like you're regressing; Forgetting the harshness of the wild when you're collared and leashed by the fireplace, growing fat and lazy, complacent. A spoiled dog isn't loyal.

You let out a noise at the back of your throat when Johnny suddenly rushes into the small room you've been given, the door slamming open and closed. You don't have time to even say a single word before he's in front of you, "Hide me!" and then he's gripping your shit and pushing himself beneath it. Your frame is big enough to where you completely block him out, and his arms wrap as much as they can around your waist so he can cling to you.

You're rarely stunned to the point you don't know what to do, but this is one of those times.

A second later you hear a "MacTavish!" and loud footsteps rush down the hall, accompanied by loud swears and threats you can only assume are from Ghost.

Johnny waits still as a statue as the footsteps grow quiet, his breath washing over your skin from where his face is pressed against your chest. When they grow quiet he shuffles, a couple of seams popping in the already stretched out shirt until he pokes his head through the head hole of the shirt, resting his chin on the top of your sternum. "Thanks laddie, saved me skin there."

"Что блят?" Is the only thing your mind can force out, defaulting to Russian because you haven't been able to dig up your mother tongue from the grave the old you is buried in.

"Ah don't worry about it, the bloody dobber had it comin' with his bloody tea in chef Mike an' — Hmmm," His attention focuses on you, head disappearing beneath the shirt once again until only his stupid mohawk pokes out as his hands give an experimental squeeze at your sides, some of the fat getting trapped between his fingers. "Hey, have you gotten bigger? Ah could swear you weren't so fluffy before."

"That a nice way of calling me fat?" You feel the need to cross your arms, to hide the cushioning hiding your muscles. Ants gnaw on your skin where Soap touches you, his calloused palms sliding as far as they can and a strange sound rumbling in his chest when he registers that the space between both of his hands is indeed larger than it had been a couple of months ago.

"Nonsense!" He guffaws, "There's just more ta love." He hums, hands pinching the fat at your sides, evidently too content with your position as his human furnace to even think about detaching from you. "Oh yeah, you've filled out. Yae know hens love the dad bod, get some more hair on yer chest an' you'll be reeling the bucks in too."

"That-" You have to bite your lip when his hands suddenly shoot up to grope your pecks. He pushes them together and buries his face in the cleavage created. Your brain completely shuts off when he fucking motorboats you, shaking his head and making a sound right against your chest to the point you're sure you can feel the vibrations in your spine.

"MacT-avish!" The sound that escapes you is humorously high-pitched for someone of your size, your voice cracking as you feel your entire face grow hot.

He pokes his head back out like a whack-a-mole, a very pleased look on his face. "Yeeess?" He asks, sickly sweet. "Something the problem big man?"

"I-" You try, too many thoughts weighing down your tongue, "-You-" this time your voice cracks, "-why-" you hiccup, your lungs choosing this time to request air as you breathe in. You look in his eyes as best you can, but the way the sparkle makes it difficult for your body to stoke the flames of anger you've grown so used to feel. ". . . блят." You finally manage to say, your shoulders sagging.

He grins at you, his hands sliding down to pet the soft surface of your stomach, fingers pressing down to feel the hard muscle beneath the fat. "Aye, big bear of a fucker, you are." He grins and goes on his tippy toes, the shirt moving up with him before he lightly pecks your lips. "Yae look good like this."

"Yeah?" You grunt, trying not to show how the soft touch affects you but your ears feel like you'd dipped them into the pits of hell.

"Definitely." He's confident when his hands slides down to grope your ass, forcing another embarrassing sound from your chest. "Now how about we get some more food in yer belly? Make you the famous MacTavish pie."

this isn’t a request but you’re the only writer i know who writes the monster!au so

dragon!reader and dragon!price are haunting my thoughts. dragons usually have to hold themselves back when sparring because they’re so much stronger than other monsters but with price & reader they don’t need to, to the point where the other members of the 141 are kinda wondering if they need to intervene.

what they do or don’t know is this is you and price courting, testing each other’s strength to assess whether you’re suitable mates. once you have decided you’re suitable it continues in the bedroom, fighting for dominance and testing each other’s stamina as price rides you or you pin price down and see if he can take all the strength behind your thrusts.

OH god I LOVE the way you think! I know @rodolfoparras also did a dragon price some time ago but I'm happy to let my monsterfucker out lol :D I'll consider this a spitball thingy but GOD DAMN did my hyperfixation hyperfixate on this :Ddd kinda rushed at the end but it's 3AM :/

CW:NSFW

What about if dragons measure not just raw strength, but all other aspects as well? They're prideful by nature and with so little of them remaining no self-respecting dragon will settle for a witless brute or a powerless scribe.

Price had lost hope in finding a mate centuries ago because he's even pickier than most of his kin; in his view, a proper one needs to be strong enough to completely pin him down, needs to be smart enough to see the insults in his honeyed words and give back as good as he does, needs to be clever enough to lead men as good as he does.

A proper mate needs to keep up with him on all levels.

And for a dragon of his age, that's an unachievable set of criteria. Oh sure, many of the dragons he's met over the years have tried to match him, but all fell short, leaving him lonely and unsatisfied.

Then he met you, a fellow Captain, a fellow dragon. Though only a few centuries younger than him, you're a wyrmling in his eyes, your scales like shining metal compared to his muddled gemstones. An arrogant wyrmling if the way you peacock for him the first time you enter the training room has anything to say about it— your wings spreading out and muscles rippling, back straightening out to make you taller, scales glinting in the artificial light; little details that anyone else can brush off as a simple stretch but to a dragon it screams of your interest in him.

His slitted eyes roam across your body, both equal parts disdain and curiosity. "Got somethin' ta say there boy?" His words are rough like sandpaper.

"No, no." You hum as you get into the ring, every little movement purposely done to showcase your hard earned musculature. "Just that you should skip out on this fight. Wouldn't want you to throw your back out old man."

"Old man huh?" His eyes blaze with the same fire at the end of his cigar, your words igniting something in his chest that had long been extinguished. "I'll show you old."

And suddenly he's in the ring, both of you trading blow for blow with the same savagery your progenitors had frightened mankind with for millennia, your claws leaving deep grooves in the concrete when you miss his side, his tail smashing a portion of the ground into dust when you avoid it, the ground between you cracking when you try to push the other away, loose scales and dust and debris littering the ground as you and Price wrestle on the ground.

Both of your teams watch from the sidelines, your team calming the other members of TF141 that this is just how dragons are, pointedly ignoring your victorious snarl when you pin Price down to the ground, your clawed hand harshly pushing his face into the concrete to the point you might break his nose as you bite the back of his neck, forcing him to submit. "I win,"

"Not fer long." He snarls back just as deep, feeling alive for the first time in who knows how long. "Best two out of three." And with that he jerks, remaining wing slamming into your side and knocking you off balance long enough for him to fling you into the wall opposite of him.

You don't know how many rounds you go before you're forced to stop by a very pissed off Laswell, who also pointedly ignores the obvious bulges in what remains of both of your pants, giving both of you a stern talking to about wrecking the damn training room.

You're ready to leave after being chastised like a child but Price is quicker, passing you with a "Good fight back there." rumbling in his throat, the soft scales of his wing brushing along your jaw. Your eyes nearly pop out of your skull when you meet his gaze, and Price has a good poker face but the smoldering look in his eyes and the low grumble in his chest makes it's obvious you've peaked his curiosity.

But that's just the start, the hard part is keeping it. While regular dragons may spend time with a potential mate conversing on scholarly subjects or having philosophical debates, you and him have a more practical way of assessing the other's intellect — Battle plans.

To your teams it sounds like a harsh argument, ideas thrown around and sharp insults tacked on top, their heads ping ponging between you and Price as you look over maps, trying to one up the other. Eventually your teammates leave you to settle this on your own.

"And I'm telling you, old man," You growl, both of you so close there's barely any space between you as you point at the map. "We can push a smaller team through the forest while we lead the frontal assault, our wip's not going to have anywhere to go then." You huff, holding your head up high to make it obvious you're proud of your idea.

Price gives you the stink eye, before he scans the map again, humming to himself. After a few seconds he lets out a scoff. "We don't have enough men for that." He says, but the sharp edge in his tone is dulled. "But—" His tail moves to brush against your own, your rough scales brushing against his smoother ones. "—It has some merit."

Price doesn't draw attention to the way your tails intertwine, wrapping together like two snakes, and neither do you. But the short purr that bubbles out of your chest says everything he needs to know, growing louder when he answers with his own, your shoulders brushing together. "Aight, back to work." He cuts your purrs short, but you can't hide the pleased look on your face as your tails remain coiled together.

Then comes the actual courting dance.

One late evening spent looking over documents in the privacy of his office, your tails once again coiled beneath the desk after successfully having proved your wit to him again, absentmindedly telling embarrassing stories of your respective teams. . . Price has a revelation. You might be it. "Hey lad."

You look up, your full attention on him. "Yeah?"

With a mumbled grunt too quiet for you to hear Price slides a hand beneath his shirt and pulls a large green scale from the meat of his shoulder blade, the wound healing before it can even bleed.

Instinctively you know what this means, for knowing how a prospective mate treats an extension of you will show how they'll treat you. But you still speak up, needing proof for your own mind that you're not insane and haven't been burning the wrong tree. "What?"

Price glares at you, "Don't play dumb," He says as he slides the large scale across the table to you. "It doesn't suit you." There's an underlayer of heat in his words, blue slitted eyes looking you over in a much more appreciative light.

You can't control the big grin that spreads across your face, "Oh, then what does suit me?" You ask as you follow his lead, yanking out one of your larger scales from your own back and sliding it to him. It makes the difference between you two obvious, his green scale muddled with age compared to your shiny one.

"Arrogant muppet." The gentle way he picks up your scale clashes with his harsh words, cradling it in his hand like it'll crack at the slightest of touches, his face reflected in the surface.

You grin, "Just confident." You feel his sharp eyes judge every minute twitch of your fingers as you pick up his scale. Price's poker face hides the way his heart melts at the loving way you brush a thumb across the surface, how it throbs when you don't immediately attempt to make it shine like some whelps once did, accepting him for how he is by putting it in your breast pocket.

God, he doesn't even know how much he'd fantasized about something like this when he was still young, vestiges of a purr escaping his throat at the tender way you treat his scale. "Right." He shakes his head and places your scale in his own breast pocket, handing you another stack of papers. "Get back to work."

You grin and do as he says, wings twitching as a sign of joy, your tail squeezing down on his and receiving a squeeze in kind.

Price feels like a horny teen when he lays awake in bed late at night with your scale held between his claws. He feels stupid for feeling so giddy at the thought of having a mate, a proper mate, yet his body thinks differently. Just holding it in his hand is enough to make him grow hot, your scent still clings to the scale and Price finds himself holding it close to his nose to familiarize himself with it and Hell his body loves it, cocks growing hard in record time and his thighs wet with slick. The poor thing doesn't even know what to relieve first, his free hand constantly going between stroking his cocks and fingering himself, mind craving the heat of another dragon that he'd been deprived of.

What Price doesn't know is that you're in the same boat, biting your arm to silence yourself as you imagine it's Price you're breeding instead of a pillow, splintering the headboard from how hard you're gripping it in an attempt to not damage the scale.

Then shit hits the fan when during a routine mission you two are ambushed, and while two dragons are no easy prey for mankind, humans have long since gone from using rocks and sticks. You catch sight of a sniper's scope glint seconds before the bullet targets Price, and in only a few seconds to think you throw yourself in the way, Price's scale in your breast pocket puts enough resistance to make you survive the bullet, but you feel it crack, and that. . . that sets you off.

Price doesn't even have the time to lift his gun before you're tearing through the battlefield like a man possessed, anger burning like a volcano in your chest for trying to hurt him, elemental breath and draconic strength unleashed to it's fullest potential.

And Price? Price watches the show with that same heat burning in his belly, forced to bite his lip to silence the pleased purrs as he rubs his thighs together while you tear flesh from bone, mate flashing in his mind. Look how he protects you His mind purrs, Good mate. Perfect mate.

"I'm sorry." You whimper when you've finally calmed down, the battlefield nothing but a ruined crater and the shards of his scale held tenderly in your cupped hands. "I failed, I-"

"Come here." Price cuts you off quickly and pulls you down into a harsh and desperate kiss, all teeth and tongue and need. He parts just a fraction of an inch, "You passed." He growls and only then do you notice the sharp arousal in his scent, your animalistic hindbrain jumping for joy as you kiss back because holy shit he considers you worthy.

And now that he's found his mate? You best believe his body is going to make up for all the centuries he'd spent alone.

It doesn't even take a week for him to enter heat, waking in a daze with his twin cocks hard and his thighs glistening with slick, your scent lingering in the sheets and your side of the bed still warm. The walls almost shake from how deeply he growls when he registers that you're not next to him, just enough sense in his head to throw on a towel around his waist before angerly stomping through the halls to find you, sniffing you out like a bloodhoud.

"Bloody muppet." Price growls as he yanks you by the horns back to his room, the scent of his arousal so potent you're struck dumb, letting yourself be pushed down. Price's claws slice through your clothes, his hole so slick and eager for you he doesn't even need to stretch, just jumps onto your lap and in one fluid motion takes one of your cocks to the root. "Fuckin' finally." Price hisses, instantly setting a harsh pace of bouncing on your cock that would have had a lesser race end up with a crushed pelvis.

You grip his hips for dear life, surging up to mark his neck and shoulders with bites as he does the same, his ass clapping against your thighs. "Mate." Price moans, hole clenching around you, his cocks leaking against your stomach. "My mate." He grips your hair and pulls you into a bruising kiss, "Going to last long for me yeah?" He asks, a bit of mockery on his flushed face as he feels you cum inside him, riding you through your orgasm as the sudden onslaught of sensations frazzles the intelligent parts of your brain. "Not going to disappoint me now are you?"

Good thing dragons have really short refractory periods.

"Not a chance." You snarl and flip him over suddenly, rumbling purrs escaping your chest from the surprised sound he makes. You attempt to pin him down and he squirms out of your hold, another bout of wrestling breaking out between you that has you two tumbling off the bed and onto the ground.

"That so whelp?" Price breathes out when you manage to pin him down, your strong hand keeping his face flush with the floor. "Do you really think you can keep up?" A pleased thrill runs down his spine from the sensation of your weight bearing down on him, his knees automatically locking up to hike his ass up, tail flipping up to display his slick hole for you.

"Do you?" You counter, one hand on his head, the other pressing both of your dicks together, your two tips pressing against his ass. "You're so wet and desperate, should have just pinned you down the moment I saw you instead of courting you." With one sharp thrust you push in, a pained and elated moan tearing out of his throat at the sensation of your twin cocks spreading him wider than any toy ever could, scratching that itch he'd had for who knows how long.

The stretch and burn and pleasure muddles his mind, reduces him to low animalistic snarls and growls as he does his best to push his hips into yours. "Hurry the fuck up." Price orders, whole body shaking from the way you set a harsh pace, bashing on his prostate, your balls slapping against his own, each hard thrust pushing and pulling his face across the floor. "I'll- fuck- fall asleep."

"You sure about that?" You push your weight further on him, forcing his wing to spread out, your own partially wrapping around him, "Seems to me like-" A bit of elemental breath leaves your throat when one particularly strong thrust has his hole clamping down on you, his back arching to push his hips as close to yours as one of his cocks spews cum on the floor, "-like you're not in a place to order me around."

"You- ah-fuck-ah- wanker." His insult would be a lot more hurtful if he didn't whine like a bitch in heat, both of you devolving into primitive snarls and growls with the only thought on both of your minds being the need to fill Price with as much of your cum as you physically can.

Heyyyyy I'm bored and curious so here goes. What would, like, Makarov/the 141 do with Hound if he had, like, a really sensitive gag reflex? I have a really sensitive one (lollipops and long straws are a nightmare. Don't even get me started on popsicles.) and I know it isn't a pleasant feeling or experience, especially with something right around the throat, like the collar Makarov had hound wear. Just a thought, feel free to ignore this ik it's kinda weird. Hope you had a good new years over there in European bread land 🍞

Hmmm the tf141 I feel would be aware and careful around Hound's gag reflex. So maybe slow shallow blowjobs and more than happy letting Hound jack them off and lap at their tip. Ooh and eating them out. Since Hound has a sensitive gag reflex, I feel like he would try doubly hard to satisfy the 141 by eating them out like their hole is the last meal he's ever going to have.

Makarov thought.. yeah, nothing like that. The moment Makarov finds out Hound has a sensitive gag reflex he's making Hound deep throat. It's not even about the pleasure aspect as much as it is about the domination. Makarov gets off on Hound being a good dog and following orders even when every cell in Hound's body is screaming in pain and begging him to pull back. The collar just adds to the appeal of it. I think Makarov would like putting Hound on his back so Hound's head hangs off the edge of a bed and Makarov can use his mouth like that. Can feel him trying not to choke and the tight bump of the collar when he bottoms out all the way. The rush of power definitely has him coming again and again just so he can feel Hound's throat get even tighter as he's forced to swallow down Makarov's cum.

Also excuse you, I come from the European potato land :Dd

pt2/finale traitor!tf141 au

cw: some angst, hurt with lots of comfort, can be read as platonic or romantic, flashbacks to past torture, mentions of violence, military inaccuracies, reader tears 141 a new one (we all cheered), we're overcoming hedgehog's dilemma with this one boys (four times you saved them, one (and a half) time(s) they saved you) realllllly fckn long

(it's the finale part yay! i don't have any more ideas to continue this au, but asks abt it are always open)

in the months since you've joined kortac, you quickly cemented yourself as efficient, capable, and reliable in their eyes. as fundamental to the team as the very foundation of a home. your hard work in the field even earned you a new call sign, one gifted by könig himself.

wraith.

a harbinger of death, the final phantasmal apparition any enemy would have the misfortune to see. sweeping, practically dancing, through swaths of men, leaving them dropping like flies in your wake.

but if that was true, the why were you back under intensive care in the med bay again?

the latest mission had gone sideways. a simple recon mission that had went belly up due to an enemy ambush. reconnaissance turned into rescue instead. and kortac's new target?

you.

it wasn't pretty. the way they tore through the field to reach you, nearly trampling over friend and foe alike, guns blazing all the while. leaving nothing but blood and carnage in their wake, blood lust only temporarily abated before they realized the state you were in.

on the verge of passing out, bound and bloodied, battered and bruised all over again. you had certainly looked like your callsign then, pale from exhaustion and the fabric of your very being fraying once more. despite the strength of your bonds and your faith in them, doubt still gnawed at the edges of your psyche. the pain from the physical beating imposed by your captors was nothing compared to your own mental flogging.

will they come?

i hope they do.

they shouldn't come.

it's not worth it.

the mission is compromised.

i'm sorry.

the sight of könig kicking down the locked door and the feeling of someone gently bundling you into his arms was the last thing you remembered before passing out.

they came.

despite your ceaseless tears and aches, there was a small smile on your face, too.

waiting for you to wake up again was agonizing.

the four of them, huddled around your bed in the base's med bay, with only the incessant ticking of the clock and your steady breaths to break the silence. they couldn't focus on any paperwork they had brought either, too agitated, too restless, too worried, to focus on mindless bureaucracy.

horangi sat at your bedside, bent over from exhaustion and boredom, his hand clasped with yours. he remembers how you used to be, those few months ago. quiet but strong, withdrawn but not entirely cold, he could sense the smallest flicker of warmth--wanting in all your movements. despite it, you hadn't uttered a word to him at all, barely met his eyes, carrying yourself admirably, independently in action.

he remembers it as if it were yesterday, when you first spoke to him.

he was too caught up in the heat of battle, tunnel visioned whilst carving a path into enemy territory and leading the charge with you as support. you had felt the chilling, piercing gaze before you ever saw them, all but shoving horangi's head down and missing the sniper's bullet aimed for him. he had looked at you, bewildered, before you summoned the strength to speak.

"enemy sniper in the vicinity. watch your six, horangi." your comm headset then crackled to life as you relayed the message to the team.

in the grand scheme of things, it was a small gesture. a teammate saving another's life is common place on the field, but horangi still felt grateful all the same. your sharp senses, your quick thinking, your presence and the safety it brought only emboldened him on the field, knowing that you'd be there to drag him out of harm's way.

outside the field, he knew that even if you couldn't express it fully aloud, you still cared for them very much. one day incidentally, you had noticed horangi picking at his food, dissatisfied with grey slop from the mess hall. (and you were too, to be quite honest.)

eventually, you found yourself and your team stationed off base for once, waiting around in temporary housing for the start of the mission. it seemed like the perfect time to have something other than MREs.

it was a very simple meal, grilled meat, storebought kimchi, savory steamed eggs and some freshly cooked rice. but when you called them in for lunch, horangi nearly dropped to his knees and proposed to you on the spot. he had to hold himself back from positively bear hugging you into his arms, instead eagerly complimenting the meal you prepared and squeezing your hand in appreciation.

"did you like the meal hong-jin?" he could barely hear you over the running faucet of the sink whilst he helped with the dishes, but he still beamed at you regardless. (he thought that meek voice of yours asking for approval was downright adorable.)

"of course i did! thank you. i really appreciate it." he couldn't remember the last time he felt so... content. so cared for and seen. it made him feel warm inside, heart full and fuzzy and soft around the edges from your quiet attentiveness.

that's why, when you all return to base and he spots you in the early morning light, sipping on coffee all alone—he joins you without a second thought. settling down next to you on the bench in the rec room with his own cup, no words exchanged but it's warm and comforting all the same.

you don't bat an eye at his presence, as if he was always meant to be there. you carefully lean into him, your shoulder's a hair's breadth from touching his. one hand holds your steaming cup and the other gingerly fiddles with his own free hand.

(you can sense his gaze too, burning into you and hong-jin as he watched from the hallway. mactavish. burning up with jealously, regret, remorse, as he watched you two.

watched the way you slowly scooted closer to hong-jin, leaning into his side as he casually swung his arm up and around your shoulder. watched as the tension bled from your body and left you utterly relaxed and open.

he couldn't remember the last time he saw you like that. if ever. he couldn't stomach the sight anymore, stomping away from the rec room with clenched fists and a deep scowl on his face.

that should've been him.)

(whether hong-jin sensed him too, he didn't say. if he did, or if he didn't, hong-jin didn't give a shit either way. all that mattered was being in the moment with you.)

krueger sighed as he glanced at the wall clock again, only five infernal minutes since last he checked it. he then glanced over to horangi, who was now soundly snoring in his seat, his head resting in his arms. then, a shadow of a smile graced his own face as he looked at you.

he remembers how the roles were reversed before, that time you went out of your way to save him. he remembers it clear as day.

the first ever mission where you two had been assigned as partners. he had respected you immensely, your silent intensity and lack of fluff, efficient, strong, a damn good partner. the mission had went off without a hitch, until the end of it.

you didn't know how to turned out like this. one moment the building was eerily quiet and still, and the next it was a raging inferno. just moments before, you had been separated from krueger looking for the documents. and now you were running, panting as you made it outside. but, something was off when you looked around.

where was krueger?

you hesitated only for a split second before running back in, while your teammates all shouted for you to stop. but you tuned them out, focusing, clearing your mind and remembering the layout of the building, where krueger said he was headed.

you found him in the hallway leading to the security room, crawling along the floor, his leg injured in the blast. clutching the documents with one hand, and using the other to drag himself forward.

when the smoke had parted to reveal you, he thought he was already dead. your silhouette blurry and grainy around the edges, the roaring fire illuminating your face in an ominous orange. an angel of death. he felt you take the documents from his hand, resignation filling him as he thought you'd turn and run.

he didn't resent you for it. not at all, take the documents, focus on the mission, leave the baggage behind. but you didn't. you didn't leave him there. you hauled him up single-handedly, adrenaline pumping through you as you fought to remain calm and steady, whilst rushing him and yourself out of there.

you spoke to him just loud enough to hear, keeping him awake and alert.

"c'mon krueger, i'm getting you out of here."

"keep moving, this is no place to die."

"you can sleep when we're safely back on base."

"i'm not leaving without you."

and he couldn't help but wonder, why?

for a man like him, one you barely knew beyond being teammates.

why? as you two narrowly escaped the building as it completely collapsed.

why? as you dragged his half unconscious body to the evac point, as you waited with him, patching up his wounds with what meager medical supplies you had on you.

why? as you fitted the oxygen mask over his face in the helicopter. his vision fading to black from exhaustion.

you sat with him as he laid in med bay, waiting for him to wake up. you remember what it felt like, to wake up all alone with no one around. how harrowing and disorienting it was, near tears when one of your old teammates had finally gone to check on you. through his (quite insincere) apologies, you sensed his piss poor excuses.

"oh, you're awake... apologies. we were busy." he didn't look physically exhausted at all, no sweat or sign of training.

paperwork, you realized.

they were too busy doing paperwork to stay by your bedside. when it sunk in, you had merely swallowed, staring at your bandaged hands.

"it's ok." you managed to mutter, after a beat there was a small click of the door. and the sterile room faded into suffocating silence once more as his footsteps led him away.

krueger, now awake, studied your face as you glared at the wall opposite you, hands clasped together and lost in thought. watching your tired eyes growing glassy with unshed tears, he decided enough was enough.

you startled slightly when he waved his hand in your line of sight, immediately snapped out of your trance. looking to him a concerned look that crossed your face, you murmured, "how're you holding up?"

"could be worse off... thanks. for saving me back there." he can see how you melt, a little less guarded with a small smile crossing your face. even under the sterile med bay lights, eyes tired and skin a little dull, you still looked like an angel. his saving angel.

he doesn't care why you did it. all it matters is that you did, he didn't need to know why when it was written all over your face. your actions, your presence besides him spoke more than words could.

(garrick had noticed you from the hallway, watching you intently.

green with envy as you tried to stifle your giggles before breaking into a real, honest to god, belly laugh. watched as you held onto krueger's hand so you wouldn't keel over in your seat from laughter.

watched as you wiped away happy tears-- so different compared to the terrified ones he remembers you shedding before. watched as your guarded demeanor melted into something softer, full of big smiles and genuine laughs you shared with krueger.

not him. it should've been him.)

(yes, krueger noticed him. didn't see him directly but he could tell in your eyes. how your laughter flickered and dimmed slightly as you glanced at something-- someone, before he redirected you back to himself. making you laugh at his jokes, and forgetting all about garrick. good. garrick could go to hell for all he cares.)

even when krueger was able to get up and walk around, you still stuck by him. doing work in his med bay room and telling you when and where you'd leave to. whether by pure happenstance or good fortune, krueger had been awake one morning just before you'd leave for coffee.

"oh, good morning, seb! i'm going to go have coffee with horan-- er, hong-jin..." a brief nervous pause, you were considering something.

"do you... do you want to join us?" asked with such tender hope in your eyes that he couldn't possibly say no. (frankly if you told him to jump he wouldn't even say "how high" he'd just do it.)

despite the sudden appearance of sebastian, hong-jin didn't look surprised in the slightest. they shared one look with each other and they immediately understood; watching as you happily prepared coffee, humming beneath your breath with your back turned to them. that morning, and for the following mornings after that; you enjoyed your coffee happily squished between the both of them.

back in your temporary room in med bay, sebastian had now drifted off in his chair. lulled to dreams by the quiet room and pleasant memories you shared.

nikto had elected to lean on the far wall of the room, opposite your bed. muttered something about being able to see the whole room for safety. but he now surveyed the tranquil room, seeing both krueger and horangi asleep in their chairs, and you, hopefully peacefully asleep too. his eyes lingered on the teddy bear that sat dutifully at your side, as if to protect you from night terrors. the teddy bear that he got you.

it was supposed to be like any other sleepless night, awoken from fitful slumber by nightmares both real and imagined, past and present.

rest would not visit them again tonight it seems.

with practiced ease they had made their way to the base's rec room, searching for tranquility in the stillness of night. peace, away from his restless mind. sitting quietly down at the table, waiting out the night until you happened to stumble in.

there hadn't been many words exchanged between you before. but there was mutual respect-- anyone would always appreciate a hard worker like you. but now he watched quietly as you tottered over to the empty seat besides him in the rec room, attempting to muffle quiet sobs as you slumped in the chair. they weren't the only ones to have bad dreams tonight it seems.

nikto didn't know what overcame him, they shouldn't of pried. everyone on base has their struggles, but between you, it felt different; his body overcome with the urge to help, to comfort.

he spoke quietly. "night terrors?" the question hung in the air for a bit before you sniffled, and nodded. he didn't ask about what aloud, but the offer was there. there was no judgement in his gaze, but understanding. even if he didn't cry, even if his own nightmares came night after night, he understood deeply.

they sighed, standing up and went to get a pot of coffee going; if he was going to stay up all night, might as well enjoy it. but after they set a fresh cup of coffee in front of you, the dam inside of you broke and you spilled everything, with nikto and the night as your only witnesses.

sobbing into your hands and sleeves about what they put you through. how they slashed so painfully at you, spat at you, how they imprinted themselves deep into your psyche.

you told nikto you despised looking in the mirror because it reminds you too much of them and what they did to you. how you can feel the phantom edge of riley's blade glide up your face, or how mactavish punched you so hard you nearly blacked out.

how you can still feel garrick's hand gripping your wrist, holding it still as his knife comes down on your pinky, severing it with no remorse.

nikto's care for you wins out against their new found contempt for task force 141 in the end. he gets up from his chair across you, and sits besides you instead. a single palm, placed soothingly on your back.

"allow us to show you something." their hands reach their mask and, they slowly, unhurriedly undo all the buckles and belts that secure it. methodically laying piece by piece of their mask down on the table, carefully, as to not startle you. the last piece of nikto's mask comes off and you're granted a front row view of his face.

they easily read your expression, no surprise, no disgust, no pity either. they see recognition in your eyes, familiarity. it's different from all the other looks they've gotten. you don't scream or cry (anymore), nor do you try to run away, instead you sit quietly memorizing their face.

for once, they feel as if they don't hate their own face either.

"the past comes for us night after night. but we cannot allow ourselves to wallow in it anymore. what's done has been done, the best any of us can do is simply move on... and keep living." the words settled into your mind.

nikto is right.

you can't allow the 141 to rob you of your life more than they already have. you want to thank him. for his advice, for his trust in you, and you tell him to wait for a moment.

he's left alone in the dark again, but it doesn't feel suffocating anymore. even he didn't know the weight they were carrying until it was gone. although your presence is momentarily absent, he-- they trust that you will return.

and you do. they note you look a little embarrassed, but you move to sit down next to him again before handing them a little well loved teddy bear. it's plastic eyes a bit scratched and cloudy, the ribbon around the neck is loose, and the stuffing a bit lumpy. well adored.

"here." you start. he takes a moment to give it a soft squeeze, and he doesn't know why but his heart sinks and soars at the same time.

"i always hug my bear when the nightmares are too much. it makes me feel better when i hold him... so i.. i want you to have it. so that he can help you too." you can't help but feel a little childish, fiddling with your fingers as you await his reply, but no such chiding or scoff ever resounds from them.

instead, a soft "thank you. we will cherish it." falls from their lips, and that's all it takes for you to truly relax. they expect you to return to your room but you don't, staying put and keeping them company through the silent night. sometimes you talk some more, sometimes it's just your breathing that's audible, they listen intently either way.

but they watch as your eyelids grow heavier, your words slurred and drowsy, and before you can fall asleep on the hard table; nikto tucks your body into their side instead. a warm arm and a strong chest keep you securely in place, blissfully asleep.

(nikto does not move an inch the whole night. not while you're still peacefully asleep, nor when the light of dawn illuminates the room and chases away the dark, and most certainly not when a certain lieutenant walks into the rec room.

the certain someone doesn't notice you peacefully sleeping in nikto's arms until he turns around and is greeted with the sight of your peacefully sleeping face. blissfully unaware to who was in the room besides you and nikto. he looks confounded, envious even, and nikto can sense he's itching to say something. but he sends the lieutenant an icy glare, lifting a finger to his lips.

the man doth protest too much, they think. making a talking motion with his hand, before pointing at him and then making an ominous throat slitting motion with their thumb. he seems to get the memo the second time around, quickly exiting the rec room with only a single final fleeting glance towards your peaceful face.)

(your sleepy visage belies your awareness to his presence. even in sleep your body still remembers, subtly awakening when he entered the room, feeling his burning gaze lingering on you despite being in nikto's arms.)

the second visitors to the rec room are much more welcomed ones. hong-jin and seb were surprised to see nikto there, but more importantly with you curled up peacefully in his arms.

any surprise is quickly replaced with adoration as they watch you peacefully snooze for a few more moments, before they sadly have to wake you. a simple "wakey wakey sleepyhead" and a small shake from hong-jin is all that's required to wake you. (nikto and seb do give him a teasing side eye for that.)

their hearts collectively squeeze as you gradually come to, looking at all of them with a fond glint in your sleepy gaze, a soft yawn and an even softer smile.

you now share your mornings with hong-jin, seb, and andre after that. the more the merrier after all. sometimes they fight over who gets to sit next to you, and the loser of three way rock paper scissors always sulks a little, but the smile you give all of them makes up for it.

in the quiet room nikto can feel his head nodding, drowsy with sleep, so he leaves the wall. laying down, horizontal to the foot of your bed to sleep.

(rest may not so easily visit nikto, but rest is within reach wherever you are. whether that may be right next to him, or a just few feet away in your room.

he had also gone and gifted you another teddy bear. after you so graciously gifted him yours, similar but not quite the same. with big round eyes, and cute ears and a neat bow that he tied himself, along with a little heart in one paw.)

when könig looked up from his paperwork to check if you woke up yet he was met with sound of soft snores in the room. looking around, he sees his trusted teammates sleeping peacefully and lets out an amused hum.

he feels his focus slip away, paperwork long forgotten when he stares at you.

he always liked you. long before you even joined kortac, when you were still with them. he saw himself in parts of you, like how it was so hard for you to connect with your team, and how you opted to close yourself off. he liked your tenacity, your readiness to work, it was a shame that they had gotten to you first.

which is why the 141's biggest blunder was the greatest thing they ever inadvertently did for him.

he almost pitied them, those fools. they did what they did, they chose to do it, and made the biggest mistake of their lives. no where did it ever say that he couldn't benefit from their self inflicted misery.

welcoming you to kortac was one of the best days of his life. you took to the new work like fish to water, always offering to pick up the slack whenever necessary. always finishing more paperwork than required of you, training the new recruits, you ran around non stop to help others. but he didn't like how you overdid it, even when you were on the verge of collapsing asleep in the hallway you still trudged on.

he remembers being up at ungodly hours doing work when you knocked on his office door and requested for more paperwork to do, despite the bags under your eyes protesting otherwise. when he questioned you, all you could respond with was a stilted "can't sleep." and that was that. he'll let you do paperwork until you tired and then he'd return you to your room.

but he watched in abject horror as you sat there long past him, completing reports and filing things away. and you were STILL awake and doing things even after he went to bed and woke up again. (he did place you on bed rest for a few days after that, as much as you silently complained about it.)

when this behavior continued, he knew that he had to question you about it. and so he waited until your brain was a little fuzzy from exhaustion, you inhibitions giving way to the more primal parts of your psyche. when your guard was down and you could be a little more honest.

"lieutenant." his voice broke the ambience of his still office, cutting through the sound of flitting paper and scribbling pens.

you head snapped towards his immediately, despite the way your eyes fought to stay open.

"may i ask why you work so hard? you do realize you don't need to go above and beyond, ja? you're only exhausting yourself doing this."

a pregnant pause lingered in the air as you stared at the floor under his feet. your grip tightened on your pen, and he thought that you'd get up and leave entirely.

"if you don't want to answer you don't have to. i won't force you--" his sentence was cut off abruptly when you looked directly at him.

"because i have to." your voice, despite being a whisper was more akin to a bomb. he was confused, going to question further but you then continued.

"if i'm not useful anymore. then i'll be discarded again like before." your voice was the weakest he's ever heard it, vulnerable and scared. your eyes were downcast again, avoiding his piercing gaze whilst unshed tears built in your own.

the sight of your tears glimmering under the warm lamp lights quickly roused him to comfort you. corralling your shaking and sobbing body into his arms, holding you tight as you sobbed your heart out.

he didn't tell you to stop, only letting you continue emptying your emotions where it was safe. one arm around the back of your neck and the other soothing up and down your back, "it's ok, sweetheart. it's ok. i promise you will never go through that again. so long as i live, i'll be right beside you. they won't ever touch you ever again, i'll make sure of it."

right there, in that cramped office of his during a frigid night, being consoled and comforted by your colonel, what else could you do but believe him? he sounded so self assured, his tone kept soft and low, cradling you against him until you fell asleep.

(price wasn't envious of könig at all, he was the man that put you into that position in the first place. executing that god forsaken order that ruined your life and theirs.

so why couldn't he will himself to walk away when he heard the two of you talking?

hell, he could hear your sobs being muffled into könig's chest. could hear you murmur the smallest "thank you"s towards him too. but no, he was most certainly not envious of könig at all.

how silly would that be.)

(könig had most certainly known that price was outside. if not for his footsteps breaking the still night, then most certainly the camera recording would've told him. bastard just doesn't know when to stop does he. god, if you weren't positively sobbing yourself into exhaustion in his arms he would've stomped outside to tell him to go fuck himself.)

a few days after you confessed your troubles to him he awoke with a sigh, needing to talk to horangi. but he wasn't in his room. and neither was krueger. or nikto for that matter. and when he checked your room, you weren't there either. it left him scratching his head as he wandered through base in the morning until eventually stumbling into the rec room.

there you all were, on the rec room bench, bathed in the glow of early morning all sharing quiet conversation. his heart lurched in his chest at the sight of you, so happy you were practically glowing, squished between horangi and nikto.

when he was about to turn heel and flee you noticed him, calling out to him and so politely asking him to join. he froze before stiffly turning around and tottering over to an empty seat near you.

"so... this is where you all are in the mornings?" he spoke quietly, trying not to break the relaxed atmosphere.

and you piped up from your comfy place on the bench before anyone else could. "yeah! we're all here every morning. why don't you just join us from now on könig? i'm so sorry we didn't say anything earlier, you we're just really busy all the time and i ah... i guess i didn't want to bother you."

his eyes widened a fraction while his hands tensed around his coffee cup, taking a moment to mull it over. "sure. why not."

the bright grin you gave him in response rivaled the sun.

but he quickly woke from his reverie when he heard you sob. the sound still haunts him in his nightmares, blind and deaf he would still be able to tell when you were crying. the four of them snapping to attention as you contorted painfully on the bed.

you were back in that godforsaken interrogation room again.

where the lights blinded you in the darkness, where the cold nipped at your fingers and nose, where the ropes bound your body and where fear and hunger made themselves uninvited companions to your misery.

what would they take from you this time? hacking away at you more and more and more until nothing was left. your body, your mind, your pride, your soul, all fit to be chopped up and tossed aside.

what had you done this time? spoke too loudly, too much? didn't speak enough? looked at someone wrong? stood out too much? or did you try and fade into the background? it didn't matter anyway, they would hammer you down like a bent nail until it wasn't even visible on the wood's surface anymore, with only a crater left in it's wake.

oh, look. ol' skipper is here too this time. what a party it is now! the more the merrier of course, yes, why not allow price to blindly stick you with pins as if it were a mere birthday game?

what's the matter cap'n? got jealous just watching from the sidelines and wanted to join in on the fun now too? there's more than enough to play with and to discard before you get bored.

look at all the fun toys you have at your disposal! used syringes with mysterious unknown liquid, rusty pliers and nails, broken glass, a hot branding iron, and whatever other indistinguishable horrors lay on that table!

what fun will we have together today?

"sweet--" what? what was that? that didn't sound like any of them.

"sweetheart-- sweetheart wake up" were they talking to you? who was talking to you?

it was as if the ropes had melted away with no resistance when you stood up, stumbling your way to the door with warm light behind it. the torturous room falling away into the white void behind you with each further step you took.

"wake up sweetheart." the voice was coming from behind the door. with little hesitance you turned the knob on the door and with a gasp you awoke with a start. you were safe.

warm and safe. safe and warm. far, far away from that room. far away from them.

they had all deflated like a balloon, rife with heartache when you finally woke up from the nightmare. your panting and whimpers of "help" and "stop" and "please" had distressed them, watching you flail around haplessly made them want to cry. it was only when könig started to utter "sweetheart" to you that you calmed for a bit, then finally rousing from that horrid memory.

when you had registered that they were all there, at your bed, waiting for you, you nearly burst into tears again. a small wobbly smile gracing your face as you pulled them all into a tight hug.

"i'm happy. i'm so happy to see you all again. i love you all so much. thank you for waiting for me." they melted into your touch, your hug, until you pulled away and wiped at your eyes.

you muttered what had happened without any prompting from them, all too shaken up from the dream to keep quiet. "i saw them again. in my dream. i was in that room again. i think something will happen soon. it.... it felt different this time. my captain was there, too. he's usually never present in them."

they had made sure to be hyper vigilant around you that week. nearly pouncing on any of the 141 whenever they got too close or looked at you for too long. barring their teeth and snapping their jaws, before ushering you far and away from them.

but even the most hyper vigilant of hounds can't protect all the time.

it happened after you went to the bathroom during dinner. one way in, one way out, no where for you to run. at first it was mactavish, of fucking course it was mactavish. cornering you in that hallway to beg for your forgiveness, asking for you to return. what emboldened them so much this time around? oh you definitely knew. seeing you happy, oh so happy without them.

they knew their window to get you to return to them was closing, and fast. but they hadn't realized that it closed a long, long time ago. instead, your tolerance for them was dwindling, slowly, slowly draining until you'd finally explode.

mactavish just wouldn't let you go, kept sputtering on and on about how sorry he was until garrick and riley had showed up as reinforcement. at least garrick had enough balls to look you in the eyes as he begged you to return. riley didn't even look at you, staring at the tile above your head instead. allowed mactavish and garrick to do all the talking for him, the despicable bastard.

as if it wasn't bad enough to be hounded by the three of them, their ring leader had finally showed up too. strutting onto the scene with a stride far too casual to be appropriate. the man who you saw like a father, the one who tossed you to the dark without a second thought, the one who was too cowardly to show up and do the dirty work himself.

you didn't want to say anything. didn't want to give them the satisfaction of your reactions, your emotions, anymore of your life that they'd taken from you without remorse. but you had more than enough.

"don't you know when to take a fucking hint? haven't you done enough already?! when the hell did i ever say i wanted to return? what sort of message did you manage to delude yourselves into thinking was real?" you barked at them. they had looked taken aback, not expecting your outburst.

"but-- bonnie, i promise this time we'll be better! we promise! we'll take care of you--" if looks could kill, frankly, mactavish would've been a pile of ash on the floor.

"what makes you think you can take better care of me better than my own team can? where was this attitude when i first joined, huh? where was it? you don't even feel bad about what you did to me! you're just saying sorry to absolve yourselves from the guilt of what you did. like doing that could fix anything you did to me. you don't actually care and you never did! just-- all of you can go fuck yourselves."

mactavish looked like a kicked puppy but you couldn't care less at all. until price spoke up, just had to open his fucking gob didn't he.

"ye don't mean that." he muttered as you attempted to leave.

you turned abruptly to level him a nasty glare.

"oh i'm sorry. did you become a mind reader all of a sudden, price? what the hell do you even know about intention anyway? i'm pretty sure you didn't give any second thought to whether i actually intended to "betray" you all, now did you? well listen to me when i say this, if you ever try to pull this fucking stunt again i intent to make sure that no one would've ever even heard of you. i will make damn sure, that it was like you never even existed in the first place."

you had been gone for suspiciously long, their food trays abandoned without second thought as they went to look for you. rounding a corner near the bathroom they saw you muttering something to price.

they all watched as your eyes lit up when you saw your team, eagerly scampering over to them. horangi had pulled you into a hug, asking if you were ok, if they touched you all the while glaring at them. from the corner of you eye you could still see them, standing still as if you couldn't.

"what the hell are you all still standing there for? either use the bathroom or leave already, jesus christ."

as they were leaving, now, now riley thought it was a good idea to finally speak. the gall of these men is ridiculous.

"sergeant--" he started.

"that's lieutenant to you, riley." you barely spared him a glance before you turned to talk to könig once more.

"lieutenant.. we just--" could they seriously not take a hint? it's not even a hint, it's as obvious as a stop sign.

"are you that dense? do i need to sound it out for you? leave. me. the. fuck. alone. riley." he stood stock still for a few moments, looking at and searching for something on your face.

"you heard them, leutnant." he didn't even bother to look at könig, only shaking his head as he drifted down the hall.

you let out a deep sigh when they were all finally out of sight. practically collapsing boneless against könig's chest as he rocked back and forth soothingly. he patted your hair adoringly, cooing at you as they led you away, back to their barracks.

they lay you on top of konig's chest, with krueger and horangi holding you from each side, whilst nikto lies on top of you like a weighted blanket.

squished between all of them, you've never felt more content and loved. the 141 had their chance, but with you in their hands now? kortac would never, ever let you go.

one man's trash is another man's treasure after all.

taglist: @erintaro @trulovekay @rainingkatzen @blackcats-and-witchcraft @callsofthesky

Guys just imagine being the barrack bunny for TF141. Every one would have another way with you, so it is a very exciting stay with them.

Price is a more relaxed one. He would be sitting in his office chair and looking up at you with a soft smile while patting his lap. You have been called often enough into his office that you know to get to work. He would blow a puff of smoke and joke, "Come here lad, I won't bite as long you don't ask me". It's always the same with Price, his mere presence makes you flustered as you position yourself between his desk and him, looking at his soft eyes. He lets you always take your time as you stroke his already hard dick with your finger tips. His hungry eyes would be focused on you taking the lower part of your uniform finally off. He would help you free his cock with a groan as he threw his head back enjoying his cigar after all this work. You put some lube on him and promptly moved down, letting his length be hugged by your warm insides. You stayed straddled on his lap and after some time he went back to his work while rolling his occasionally every time you tighten around him as a response. Sometimes he would give you his cigar as you two enjoyed your fleeting peace in each other's embarrassment.

Soap is quite wild sometimes. With you around he easily gets turned on but it’s most commonly while sparring against you. The two of you would be rolling around with you having your legs around his neck. The sensation of Soap's face against your crotch and extra blood pumping through your veins makes your member turn hard and Soap is getting a new purpose in the middle of your sparring session. With this new purpose he gathered his energy to get you on your back while pinning your hands. His teeth found your zipper and with one swift motion Soap was face to face with your clothed dick. Your legs loosened around him and he gave you a kiss on your already drooling tip, sending waves of pleasure down your spine. He let go of your hand as you let him go from your grip. You hastily set yourself free and already started to stroke feverishly. “Slow down mate, take your time” Soap would joke as he got rid of his bottom as fast as possible. A whine could be heard from you which quickly turned into whorish moans as Soap straddled you and sank down. The energy from the spar lets you flip the two of you so you can realise the rest of your pent up energy into him. His back is arching and one and buried deep into your hair while pulling you down to exchange hungry kisses so you could both be more quiet.  

Ghost is the most reserved one of the group. When it happens that he wants this he always asks you to go to his room at night. There it’s mostly you two laying tangled  together naked under a blanket in the dark. His hips slowly roll into you and out. His light groans are muffled by his face being buried deeply into your neck. “I love ya so much” he would breathe onto your skin every so often while one hand works on your dick and the other one cupped one of your pecs, teasing one of your erect nipples. Nights with him alway feel so much more intimate, knowing no one will ever come in and knowing that he probably means these words always gives you butterflies thinking about them but the both of you knew that such interaction only happens in the darkest of desperate nights. Ghost hunger for touch sometimes saddens you but you enjoyed giving every bit you could offer to him on these occasions. His kisses always feel a bit hesitant at the beginning but after warming up to you a bit it always feels heavenly for him and he maybe won’t say it outside of the safety of his room but he really appreciates having you in his team.

Gaz is more impulsive. For example, while you two are examining a tank you are leaning on a tank tread. He would be looking at you every so often, mesmerized by your curves and seemingly innocent look even though he knew what you were capable of off on the field. “What ya working on?” He would come behind you and look over your shoulder. Knowing what will come next you arched slightly to him, making him hold your hips so you know who is more in control in this situation. Chucking at that you responded by checking things out. “Wanna check something else?” He whispered into your ear with a roll of his hips, making the two of you moan slightly. He knew you hadn’t a problem with doing it out in the open so he buckled down your pants and saw you already prepared with a shining plug snugly in you. “Didn’t think you were so desperate” he would tease you while pulling it out with a light plop. Seeing it wink at him made Gaz get into his knees kissing your thighs and slowly going up till reaching your hole. He would be teasing and jerk you off with one hand, making you particularly ride his face and fucking yourself in his fist. This was all he wanted from you so you let him pleasure you and after some time you heard a moan from under you and Gaz came apparently untouched, making you arch more into him and paint the tire white. Then he clothed you again and went on as if nothing happened.

hiya neon <3

How you been ? ໒꒰ྀི ˶• ༝ •˶ ꒱ྀི১₊˚⊹♡

hope you're having a good day ~ ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

Anyways, can you write something fluffy about poly!141 and male reader

Just...cuddle piles bro...hhfjsjsk

-- 🪸anon

Like Real People Do (Poly!141 x Male Reader)

Sorry this wasn't long, a lot has happened in my life lol.

I've been okay, everything is turning up.

I debated on doing more but if It did it would've turned to angst so.

You were always tired, work didn't have to be stressful and you would still be tired. You think it had to do with interacting people, just talking could make you tired.

The only thing that could make it better, were the people that greeted you at your home.

Gaz is cooking. The smell swallows you and your stomach turns, growling for the food. You can tell its Gaz simply because of the smell of seasoning, something you were still helping the other three boys on. Soap and Ghost either did Microwavable dinners or take out, and Price thought that the only seasoning he should use is salt and pepper.

He's such an old man.

Your knees ached, as did your ankles and back. It was usually hurting, but you never got it checked out, didn't consider it important too.

The solo mission lasted 3 months, you know they had each other for company and some part of you questioned if they really needed you. If they could last without you for 3 months, what's the rest of their life?

Then Soap opens the door and grabs you like his life depends on it, and all that doubt disappears. He holds you, his arms wrapped around tight and your bag of items drops to reciprocate the hug. He feels like home.

They are home.

You attempt to let go and take a step forward but he still holds on, and you kind of just awkwardly shuffle into the door.

Ghost calls out your name and announces you're home. Price comes through the door wearing your favorite pair of sweatpants (that looked so good on him) and a tanktop, Ghost is in similar wear, and you could take a guest that they just stayed home all day.

"Soap you gotta let him go at one point." Soap is buried in your chest, pushing himself further so his words come out mumbled. "What is Gaz cooking?"

"How do you know it's Gaz cooking?" Price asks.

"Cause I can smell how good it is, you left the window open." You tell him which causes Ghost to go over and shut it, locking it as well.

"He's making some rogan josh-"

"Oh god..." You moaned, most of the food you ate was dry crackers (that tasted like cardboard) and some bad lasagna. You had always loved food, that was one downfall to being the governments rat. "God I'm starving."

"Thankfully you're home just in time." Gaz comes in wearing the stupid apron you got him, it's pink and frilly, a stupid gift because that was just the tradition on Christmas. Soap had gotten you a shirt that said 'Don't Bully Me I'll Cum :(' on it, which unironically became your favorite. You got Simon a shirt that said 'I Identify as an American Patriot and this is my Pride Flag' which the Brit hated but everyone else had a great time.

"Tell me you have naan."

He did

----

You ate like you hadn't before, the dinner was delicious and it brought you all to the bedroom to rest like never before.

You laid against the pillows set up on the wall, Gaz was laying in between your legs and on your chest, Price was laying on your right side, his head resting on your shoulder as Ghost laid on the opposite with Soap on top of him, though with the way Soap was laying, he was on top of everyone. Soap was holding your hand as you rested your head on Ghost, the tv is playing a show called The Maid, it was interesting so far, you were going in and out of focus on it, more focus on your boyfriends next to you.

Eventually husbands, hopefully.

You took a glance to the side where the bedtable sat. You each got a drawer for your stuff, and in yours were five rings that took 5 paychecks to get. You were just waiting.

There would be a right time.

Soap's loud snores fill the air, and you laugh a little at how sudden it is, as does Ghost. The bed was crowded but none of you cared, it was perfect.

They were perfect.

"I love you guys." You mumble, and Price leans over to you, causing you to turn your head and kisses you. It's soft, not leading to anything and it's not holding expectations, it's warm and soft and everything to you. And when he stops, you just smile, because this was it.