Leave A Mark

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.

Warning NSFW

Telling werewolf boyfriend that you aren’t ready for kids just yet but wished you could feel his knot. Obviously he takes that to mean you want him to knot your virgin little asshole… I mean what else could you be implying.

Spending hours locked on his cock daily, your cunt feeling empty and leaking while your ass is stuffed with his cock. Sometimes he likes to make you fuck your fingers into your pussy while he knots your ass. He likes feeling them press against his knot from the inside.

Werewolf boyfriend also likes to have you sit on his lap as he gives your pussy little spanks while waiting for his knot to deflate, just so he can feel your ass clench around him again.

He spends three days teasing you when the feeling of you ass being stretched on his knot and two little pussy spanks made you squirt. He wasn’t even thrusting, just playing with you while waiting for his knot to go down. Both of you were shocked as your juices gushed from your cunt, landing halfway across the room as a huge grin appeared on his face. He obviously tries to do that every time now 😈

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

Nom

- 🦈

(Been craving Poly Shadow company x Graves x Male reader (maybe his right handman). Id like to imagine theyre a giant poly group.

Like for example, that guys your boyfriends girlfirends partners boyfriend, so why dont you both make out and snuggle.

If you're up to it, that is.)

I'm so sorry for giving your request late, Sharko! I hope this is ok, please if you'd like more just send another ask and I'll try my best to do it ><

Graves, the man who has the whole shadow company wrapped around his finger, it's no secret that the group has some type of bond. Everyone can see that they're closer than your average military unit.

The whole team is riddled with fraternizing in the workplace, including you and especially Graves, since he's apparently everyone's favorite.

You'd think people outside of your crew would catch on but the frequent touches from soldier to soldier were easily passed off as "friendly" or even "brotherly" those were specifically the answers for outsiders. But when a new recruit joins and they've been in the company for a good few months most things get revealed.

They'd be walking to the rec room or common area and you'd be there sitting on the couch, one soldier on your lap and the other snuggling to your side. When they ask what's going on you simply answer "this one here is my boyfriend and this is his girlfriend" which would shock the new recruit for sure, but they'll have to get used to it.

And it isn't a common thing to enter Graves's office and see a soldier on his lap, either just sitting there comfortably or kissing each other. It doesn't really matter since said soldier is allowed to listen on whatever you had to discuss with him.

The soldiers LOVE sitting on Graves's lap in his office, makes them feel special and all that, they probably even have scheduled time for who and when to sit on his lap.

One thing about Graves is that his favorite seat out of all Shadow Company is your lap, loves how strong your thighs feel and how secure he feels when you circle your arms around him.

Whenever you two get caught being lovey dovey with each other by another soldier, said soldier would want in immediately, adding another pair of lips to pay attention to while making out. And suddenly another pair of lips show up, but none of you mind, that's how you all have always worked and it always worked perfectly.

Nobody can convince me otherwise that Price wouldn't cry if he was proposed to/proposing

He gives off similar vibes to my dad and he cried at his wedding cause he was so happy

Okay, 1) Ur dad sounds super sweet lol. 2) Price so would and have a surprise ficlet.

Would you?

CW: SFW, Price X GN reader fluff, proposals, crying

The thought of marriage strikes him as you two lay in bed one night. It's not a particularly special night; he's not fresh from the battlefield or hardening his heart to go back to it. It's just a regular Tuesday night — your arms around him, your legs a tangle of limbs in the sheets, your head resting over his chest so you can be lulled to sleep by the sound of his heart — when he thinks. . . Wouldn't it be nice to be buried under your name?

That maybe, just maybe, he'll have you to keep him from a pauper's grave. That your and his bones will be able to mix when time erodes flesh, wood, and earth between you two. That the only thing that will remain will be those gold rings.

He starts planning that morning, approaching the proposal like he would a suicide mission; he calculates every variable, scours his brilliantly sharp mind for every little detail he's catalogued about you, making plans upon plans for how it could go both wrong and right. Writing sessions of what he wants to say to you stretch long into sleepless nights, he cracks open that old dusty book of family recipes and scribbles little exclamation marks next to the dishes you enjoy, secretly taking your ring measurement so he can confidently go ring shopping.

His wallet is fat from his work, yet he picks up side jobs in the private security sector on his off time — He's happy to babysit overgrown brats if it means he can buy you a ring without blood money. He wants this to be something pure and free of the violence shrouding his life. He doesn't do it often, but some times he fantasizes of what will come next; he'd hate to wear a stuffy suit like he does his military blues to those posh military dinners, but for you, it wouldn't feel like a labour nor a penance. He's sure it wouldn't take much for Kate to get her officient license, and whenever he starts thinking of that Price finds himself smiling like a loon at the thought of you on your wedding day, bright eyed and with a big smile with his ring on your finger.

A simple question — what if you refuse? — always brings him back down to the ground and drags his heart to the pit of his stomach. He tries not to think about it (he thinks too much about it, the bloody fool)

He decides to propose on your anniversary.

He wakes up long before you, having barely slept a wink the night before with last minute thoughts running through his head. Breakfast is ready for you by the time you stumble out of bed, his beard scratching your chin as he gives you a goodbye kiss before you set out to work. He spends the rest of the day making sure the house is spotless, getting you flowers, picking out the nicest clothes you two have and then goes to make dinner.

And of course, the things out of his control go wrong on the one day he needs it to be perfect. He only notices the oven is busted when the roast he's making in it starts smoking enough to set off the fire alarm. He scrambles to salvage it but it's too late and he's left scurrying around the kitchen trying to figure out something else.

Price doesn't notice when you get home, the locking of the door and your tired footsteps betting lost in the sound of clattering pots and pans. He nearly tosses the pan he's holding when you sneak up and wrap your arms around him, pulling him back from the roaring fire of the stove to press your chest to his back.

You rest your head on his shoulder, lips brushing his neck. "Relax," You say, both an admonishment and a suggestion.

"Bloody git". Price grumbles to himself under his breath but relaxes into you, nuzzling his head against yours. "M' sorry love, the bloody oven broke and-" he clams up just as he's starting to explain, already rethinking the proposal as a whole because Christ, how can he be a good husband when he can't even make you dinner properly?

"Hey," You begin and kiss his temple, rubbing soothing circles into his side. "How about we dress up and I'll order take out huh?" You say, letting go of him and taking charge by calling both of your favourite takeout place before he even has a chance to refuse.

Price knows this proposal is dead in the water. He's seen far too many proposal videos on that TokTik app — the ones with extravagant locations and massive diamond rings gifted to the brides to be via doves — to know such a simple proposal would fly.

But he still goes along with your plan; At the very least he can enjoy the sight of you done up in nice clothes, in the knowledge you do it for him. And he's sure you love how he looks in his suit too, his beard can't hide how pink his cheeks get when you call him dashing or handsome as you fix his tie. He gets you back though, cupping your cheek when you're done with his tie so he can pull you in for a long and slow kiss. He wants to press further, proposal plans already at the back of his mind, but he's interrupted by the delivery guy. He's especially not pleased when you stick your tongue out at him like a child and scamper away to get your takeout.

After plating the food, you sit down to eat, and Price remembers to light the special candles he'd bought. The food is good even if it's not what he'd wanted, but it's easy to forget about this shortcoming of his when you're laughing and telling him about some thing that happened to you today. He listens intently, remembering why he loves you when you speak so passionately about your hobby.

Price decides this is it.

He had a speech prepared, written and rewritten a dozen times until it was perfect, the one he'd practiced all day until his throat was raw. But the words dissapear like a mirage in his mind, and even if he did remember them, it would feel too out of place. So he simply stands up, cutting your talk short. His back aches as he gets to one knee, hands shaking a bit and fumbling with the box before he presents the golden ring to you. "Do you. . ." He hesitates, takes a deep breath, "Do you want to spend the rest of our lives together?"

Your eyes flicker between him and the ring, staring, bewildered. The pit in his stomach grows with every passing second, only to swallow up his heart when you open your mouth and say "Are you serious?"

This is it, Price thinks, he's mistaken what you two had together for something it was not. He's already thinking of ways to backtrack, fat tears building at the corners of his eyes that he desperately tries to blink away.

He's caught unaware when you kneel down in front of him. There's a sheepish look on your face as you bring out your own little box. Inside is a simple golden ring, your and his initials carved into it.

You give him a wry little smile, "Surprise."

Price stares at the ring. A second passes. Then another. A third one is well on it's way before his mind finally realises what this is and a childish laugh bubbles from his chest. "You-" He reaches out and pulls you into a bear hug. "-bloody Muppet almost made my heart give out." He grouches but absolutely melts into your body as you return the hug. You feel his mighty shoulders shake and chest rumble as his laughter gets out of control, pulling you into laughing with him.

He buries his face into your neck, trying to say something but his hiccups turn the words into meaningless happy noise. He doesn't even notice when he starts to cry, but it's a good type of crying — the one where you just don't know how to express the light airy feeling gripping your chest. Price feels like his ribcage is stuffed with dandelion fluff, fat tears rolling down his cheeks.

"I love you." He says into your skin, low and quiet, voice still raw as he nuzzles his beard into your neck. His hands grip you tightly, afraid to let go.

"I love you too." You say, kissing him with nothing but love and care and tenderness in your actions.

Price is running high on the buzz of getting engaged when you two settle on the couch, back in comfortable pyjamas and wrapped up in blankets and each others arms, your takeout on the table as you settle to watch a movie. Your hand finds his, two golden rings clicking together beneath the sheets, and Price feels fresh tears roll down his cheeks before you kiss them away.

Being buried under your name would be nice, but living under your name is much better.

𝐂𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐃𝐚𝐲𝐬

𝙶𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚡 𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝙲𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚐𝚘𝚛𝚢: 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏

After servicing the SAS for around 30 years it was finally time to retire and enjoy the time spent by the people you always protected. The Task Force 141, created by Price, was now led by Gaz and Soap after you and Ghost decided to retire as well following the old man, or rather “father”, that retired to spend time with Nik. After 2 years, you and Ghost reached the age of 55 and it was now time to put the guns away.

You and him still wanted to be in the frenetic life of constant alertness and the adrenaline rushing through your veins but after an incident that left you having to walk with a cane (you were not fully disabled, you just needed support, not always, your knee sometimes gave painful troubles. The problem, most of the time, was solved by wearing a medical device, a knee brace) and him to manifest phantom pains with constant migraines, the time to give up was finally here. After being discharged with honor and with badges of recognition, saying goodbye to Johnny and Kyle and making sure that these two would be able to lead the future of the task force, you two left the SAS forever.

Before leaving, a decision was made. During dull times when there was nothing to do, you and Simon discussed possible houses and flats to live in after retirement, these conversations started way before the deadline and sometimes it would end up with the two of you not having emitted the final verdict. You always wanted to visit Manchester and maybe live in it too as Simon always described it as an "ok" city. Eventually, an apartment was found and it was quite cozy too. It had a wall window (not fully glass) that was facing the west giving the possibility to gaze at the setting sun, it had an elevator too as you needed it. It took some time to get adjusted. It was a sort of challenge itself to buy the furniture as you and Simon had different tastes that were difficult to mix together and the fact that it was a struggle to arrange everything, but eventually your new house was done and was full of memories too.

The small table and the walls around the TV were full with photos of vacations as well as after missions times with your friends: the time in Las Almas, with Alejandro and Rudy, then there were Farah and Alex with Nikolai too. Other photos showed vacation trips with the whole 141 and your outer friends too. In the more intimate and more secured side, the medals achieved over time by you and Simon stood neat and clean, in the studio, in their cases showing the best of the best.

You two where 50 and still in great physical form despite your respective pains, you were accepted to work as a personal guard to assist the CEO of a very advanced High-tech company that helped in the reaserch in many fields…..it did pay very well….while Simon, who liked more quiet places was hired as an intelligence specialist where his tactical skills were put to use, formuling plans or mapping the perimeters, when squads of police or other special forces had to get their hands dirty. At the end of the day, when you both were home, you two got to spend the evenings on the couch watching some football or play matches in Call of Duty making some people rage quit since they couldn’t compete with veterans.

Sleeping was a challenge though, Simon had chronic pains over his whole body and sometimes the treatments were not really effective, he ended up waking up in the middle of the night with pains in his legs or arms (trust me they are unbearable. I say this as someone who sometimes has their legs and foot-fingers blocked for the amount of pain) that makes him become restless. Lucky for him you are there as you try and stop everything with a massage. To say thank you, he lets you sleep on his torso and wraps you around his arms if they don’t hurt and you do the same, giving him a small and content smile. If you are the one waking up with knee pains, he makes sure to try and make it lessen by applying some pain relief ointment.

Mornings are spent lazily if none of you have to work, usually you wake up with him being the big spoon while he had his head on your pillow, other times he wakes up with you on top of him with your arms sprawled on the bed. He rolls around, waking you up in the process, and giving you light kisses on your forehead and temples while caressing your exposed tummy, warm light usually fills the room finding its way to your exposed torsos filled with scars of all types, symbols of your endurance and courage.

As time passed white hair did begin to appear on your scalp and Simon noticed it while washing your hair in the bathtub.

‘’Pup, you have some white hair here and there…’’ he spoke as he massaged your scalp and cheek bones.

‘’Ah-…sigh’’

‘’Don’t worry about it, they look good on you’’ he smiled.

‘’Don’t joke about it, since you have some on your eyebrows too!’’

And so days were spent like this. You two were finally taking back the time ripped away from your work duty, callused hands traced the necks of one-another and scarred faces expressed the most sincere of feelings repressed by the ruthless requirements of the war world. Sometimes, the little things done with the heart, each day…are the ones that matter the most.

Room in The Den

Pairing: Hybrid!141 x Male!Reader

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

Part 2 -> Click here

-----

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

----

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

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

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

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

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

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??)

sleeping with simon riley includes...

a bunch of coughing and groaning in the middle of the night (yeah... he needs to stop smoking)

random muttering and mumbling from him/you

nightmares. he will literally jump out of the bed which causes you to be startled sometimes (he offered to sleep on the couch due to his nightmares....)

his hands roaming around your body as if he wants to memorize every part of you (he does)

cuddles of course !!! it doesnt matter if hes the big or small spoon he just needs to be with you.

either of you falling off of the bed, at least once in a while

the blankets being left aside because simon says its gonna be 'too hot' (no, he just wants to be your personal heater lmao)

laying on top of each other. yeah, you might end up sleeping with your head resting against his chest.

HAIR STROKING. will stroke your hair until you fall asleep soundly

sigh... drooling. he drools a bit sorry to break it to you guys

a lot of admiring. he'll admire you as you sleep, its the only view that helps him doze off

FOREHEAD KISSES. either you or him. if he stirs awake he'll just give you a small forehead kiss before holding you closer to him (if thats even possible) and dozing off once more

nuzzling. he loves to nuzzle into the crook of your neck :(

tangled legs. his legs are gonna be intertwined with yours oooor one of his leg is going to be on top of yours.

kruegerspillow © 2024 — reblogs are greatly appreciated!

I genuinely can’t believe there’s a fic of senshi eating pussy when he’d want HIS pussy eaten

Strong body bent in half, thighs easily parting to allow you access to his cunt, the smell of musk and sweat hitting you as you inch closer to the spot between his legs, laying so close you can see each individual pubic hair poking through the thin clothing he’s wearing, can even taste the salty taste just by looking at the dark spot on the light fabric.

You don’t even bother taking off his underwear as you lap at his cunt and suck his clit, hearing the obscene squelching sound mingling with whines and whimpers that escape his lips, and watching as the thin fabric gets soaked in your spit, before getting practically swallowed by his fat pussy lips.

Thinking about the sweet gasps and squeaks that escape his lips, the way chubby hands aimlessly grasp at the air as you bury your tongue inside him, hips erratically bucking up as you work your tongue into him the way you would with your cock.

Thinking about making him cum over and over, having him flush red from head to toe, thighs practically shaking from overstimulation but refusing to let up his grip on you, forcing you to eat him out til you’re on the verge of passing out.