#A Helping Paw COD

[dollygirl808]

A Helping Paw Masterlist

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Obsessive! Werewolf/Weredog 141(+extra) x Chubby! OC Freya

Freya was just trying to have a nice, relaxing getaway vacation with her boyfriend to her old childhood home, to get away from the loud, crowded city, when a big, kind of obsessive dog quite literally forced his way onto her lap and into her life. All of a sudden, there's a second dog. Then another, and another, until suddenly she found herself with a whole pack of dogs! Little does she know, they're all werewolves, not real dogs, and they're all a little (lot) in love with her.

Of course, inspired by the lovely @charliemwrites and their Woof Woof Johhny series when I first started writing this. I have also shamelessly been influenced by other stories (even my own) with more obsessive/yandere vibes. I am a greedy, greedy little reverse harem poly 141 lover so I couldn't help myself.

(Soap, Gaz, Ghost, John, Nikolai, König, maybe Alejandro and Rudy. Maybe more)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5 - wip

[simonriley09]

Mask Kink - König [Kinktober Day 28]

TW/CW: KINK, SIZE DIFFERENCE, FEM!READER X COD, OLDER!KÖNIG X YOUNGER!READER

König usually keeps his mask and uniform away from his little liebling so when you saw him in full gear for the first time your cunt clenched around air. He notices your needy expression and grins under his mask. "You like vat you see schatz?" He watched you nod eagerly, strutting over to him to poke at his gear, making him laugh. He soon left for a mission but when he came back tired and covered in mud he was flabbergasted at what you asked him. "H-huh? Maus... say.. say zhat again?"

"I asked can you fuck me with your mask and gear on?, pleaaaase!" You asked, looking so innocent but having such a dirty favor. König practically pounced on you once you asked him that, he threw you over his shoulder, walking to the bedroom. His footsteps loud and echoing in the tiny apartment.

He put you on the bed, getting ontop of you and bite down harshly on one of your nipples through the thin fabric of your tanktop. Slurping and wetting it. You squealed, squirming and pawing at his helmet, trying to grab onto anything as your pussy ached for attention. "K- König!"

He ignored your pleas, suckling on your nipple before switching to suck on the other one, before he let go and took your shirt off, relishing in the sight of your plump tits heaving with each breath, pink perky nipples hard and standing at attention. He moved down to your panties, swiping up your clothed pussy with his tongue, teasing you until your panties are soaked and you're hastily removing them, showing him your glistening slit. "Please König! just fuck me already!" You begged, needing him to be inside you after not feeling anything in your cunt for ages. He finally whipped his hard cock out, standing proud before rubbing it all over your slit and thrusting the head in before slipping in fully, stretching you wider than anyone ever has, You throw your head back against the pillows and let out a soft whine at the ache of the stretch. He gripped your hips with his gloved hands and started thrusting into you, watching his fat cock disappear into your tight heat and bulge out of your stomach. You fisted the bed sheets, overwhelmed from the sudden pace after not feeling it in a while. You moan and whine loudly, the neighbors might complain but you can't help it. It feels so damn good. His cock hits all the right places, making you see starts. Your head swims and your toes curl, making you fist the bedsheets tighter as you felt the coil in your belly tighten, Threatening to snap as you got closer to climax. König groaned as you tightened down on him, increasing his pace while his heavy balls ached. His grip on your hips tightened enough to leave bruises. He continued thrusting, picking up his pace until you cried out, clenching and shaking as you came.

König sped up, fucking you through your high until his balls drew up and he emptied a load inside you. Pulling out and collapsing next to you making the bed dip. He panted and pulled you to his chest, not bothering to take his gear off and falling asleep with you.

[just-some-user-hunny]

Wrote this up with some help from @fishsinsareacknowledged , please check out their cod content it's so yummy!!!

Nikto who acts like a territorial and hypervigilent guard dog whenever a repairman/electrician is in the home. He doesn't like it. He can do it just fine, take care of your home. Ask for him- no need for a guy to come over. Nikto you can't fix wires for shit dear

He's constantly hovering- stoic and watching. Monitoring, he likes to call it. You think he's trying to set the poor repairman on fire with his stare. Stood in the doorway with his arms crossed firmly across his broad chest, icy feline eyes staring at him like the man was a juicy mouse.

Nikto who makes useful commentary orders towards the repair guy.

"Hurry".

"Hm. You are using the wrong tool, here, this is better".

"Do this- not like that".

Nikto who won't leave you alone in a room with the man. He's peering over his shoulder to keep an eye on you- paranoid about a stranger being in your safe space. He's not distrustful of you- far from it. He'd let you hold a razor to his throat and not feel an ounce of fear. It's this stranger he doesn't trust.

Afterwards he's sombre. Solemn. Paws at the nape of your neck with a warm palm, grumbling a deep gravely sigh- a sigh of relief now that this unfamiliar man and his unfamiliar smell is out of your home now.

"we were...Hostile. Very sorry llubov". He struggles to swallow his own words, but his eyes are sincere. You scratch at his chin playfully. He melts against your nails.

"guard dog".

"yes ma'am".

[alanisinstone]

okay bluecollar!rafe but yall. can we make it MARINE!RAFE?? or more specifically MARSOC!rafe* who works for ward at cameron construction co. on leave?? like hello i need him bad guys.

cw: MDNI smut, cursing, stuff in public, food play, cum eating, military stuff, ass play, manhandling, 1 mention of fighting, recording

*marsoc: Marine Forces Special Operations Command - basically what COD men do

like he starts off as a standard private officer after enlisting when you guys graduate high school. he works his way up from private to corporal to sergeant major, and then eventually to captain, colonel, then general. i mean hes fucking unstoppable, hes blowing thru these ranks like nobodys fuckin business, and he not stopping anytime soon baby he in his primeeee.

he moves on to MARSOC and leads a small team on SPEC-OP missions in like borneo. hes literally the best of the best. his full file is like 4 pounds, full of successful recon missions, confirmed kills, successful captures of enemy targets, accurate tracking efforts, successful counterterrorism efforts, successful hostage rescue and successful direct action raids. when theres a REAL threat? they call LT Cameron. callsign? RAIDER

NOW. when baby comes home on leave he works at the family construction company ward owns, building giant beach houses for rich kooks. he eventually inherits cameron construction when ward gets too old to work and he helps ward retire bcs of the cash from being the most elite soldier in the US military. bae is tannnn bcs of construction work ofc, but also since being in the military he likes to go on runs and be in nature to clear his head. and yall alr know hes yatteddddd, both sleeves done by his boy at home on the cut, who happens to be a very talented tattoo artist (barry...)

strictly keeps a buzz for deployment but will grow out a mullet when hes home. signature gold chain is always on, and has a tat on his ring finger for you and maybe one on his forearm. does he have both ears pierced with fake diamond studs in? yes.

is currently in the blueprint stage for a beach house he wants to build you on figure 8 (and one in florida... and will probably start planning another one if he ends up having a long ship-out next deployment) even tho he despises rich fucks and is suchhhh a country boy. i mean hes like pogue!rafe but hes more of a mudding, dirt biking, bonfire, shotgunning beer, lifted truck, bar hop, football game kind of guy. and the most elite soldier in the US military ofc.

takes you on stargazing dates and fucks you in the truck bed, a big beach towel set down and his head in your neck while he ruts into you short and fast. occasionally gets into bar fights when some dick is tryna say sum to u. is such an ass man and will smack and grope that shit wheneverrrr whereverrrr - has zoned out of convos with people while feelin HIS booty up + loves to grip your pussy with his big ass paw when no one is looking.

has a super firm grip due to years of being a marine and WILL manhandle ur ass around - into various positions, onto the bed or couch or counter or etc., up over his shoulder when you gettin on his nerves. gets actually animalistic when yall fuckin, and yk that boy a munch. growls and grunts sooo loud the whole time.

will take you to the dock and fuck you on the family fishing boat. will christen any new bar yall go to by fucking you in the gross bathroom and carving both your initials in the wall with his pocket knife that ward gave him when he was 15. is kinky af but lets u bring it up bcs he feels awkward talking about it. is sooooo nasty - will eat his cum out of you with his whole mouth, eyes locked on yours, sucking your lips into his mouth. then, when it’s not enough, he drags you up to sit on his face and rubs your clit, watching you clench and letting his cum drip from you right onto his tongue.

will stick a thumb in your ass during doggy, while reaching for his phone bcs the way u throwin that ass back on him? yall bout to make another movie. loves watching you clean him up after round 5, when his dick is covered in his and your cum - will not let you miss a spot, even where it dripped down over his hefty balls to his ass. and he rarely shaves - uncut.

if it’s a hot day, he’ll turn the ac off and find you so he can lick the sweat off every crevice of your beautiful body while he’s fucking you over the counter. both of you completely butt naked bcs it’s hot. has a sweet tooth - will interrupt you while you’re baking and strip you, laying you on the counter like the dessert you are and eating the frosting off his favorite parts. get especially excited when it comes to sweets on your nipples.

honestly if that aint a FEASTTTT i dont know what issss

[duck-a-doodle]

COD Headcanons: Soft Intimacy

SFW thoughts on what would unravel the COD boys. This is my first post for this fandom, and my entry point to it was the MWII campaign and a few comics, so it might be slightly OOC. In the meantime, I will keep doing research and I hope this brings you joy! :-) -CH

Masterlist 7/14/2024

Simon "Ghost" Riley silently relishes light scratches. The kind that runs slowly, gently down the scalp or round the ears, feathering across his scapula over the thin fabric of his shirt and the underside of his arms. He shudders at getting his spine or ribs traced, head spinning at the idea of fingers so tender taking long, tantalising hours to outline all of himself, the electrifying comfort flickering his heavy eyelids. Heavy as he is, the man is quick to persuade that you rest your weight upon him during such domestic ministrations; he curses, however, at your much more compelling affections, falling prey to the charms of your worship. Slowly, but surely, he leans forth — first dropping his head to your shoulder while languid nails crawl down his cheek, then falling to his hands and soon, his elbows — gliding his head down your collarbone and onto your beating chest, where he recognises that you are most ardently obsessed of him as he is of you. “Obsessed” is much too simple a word  and “reverent”, too large an understatement. His skin is yours, his mind is yours, his breath, his tongue, and every crevice of himself he can count; a gift and homage to your hands, his temple. As he finally sinks all of himself into you with a groan and a sigh, he gingerly lifts his heavy hands, resting them warmly by your sides and over your ribs, in hopes to return all your love with the altogether humble gesture. On days which he stubbornly wishes to do the same for you, he mimics the way you touch him, in every precise manner and every exact order, seeking nooks and crannies that warm your skin or hitch your breath. He will weakly protest, however, moments which your hands reach too close to him outside of these intimate instances, causing light, inadvertent whimpers from the back of his throat.

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Captain John Price likes using his hands for carrying. “Brutish” is an adjective familiar and frequent to his bear paws, trained to caress cold, carbons steel and paint itself in red, smelling only of matches and rust.  The warmest things his hands have known are the arms and backs of his fallen men and the barrel of his heartless iron, the touch of it comparable to a Londoner’s December. You, in place of the metal, you, strong yet brittle and you, lighter to him than a C4, grenade or flashbang, are his respite, reprising over the smoke of his numerous deployments, where his hands took more than they gave. He cannot help the pliant hips and waist that fit his palms seamlessly, more harmless than the many miry grounds he trekked before — a kind, relenting texture which spoil his weathered, calloused digits with the knowledge that they are utterly malleable to you, benign to you, void of all menace. Coarse fingers drag and curl your silhouette as your mass rests weightlessly on his arms and shoulders, yielding to his calculated strength. That he can evoke a laugh or an exclamation of surprise is a source of endless pride; a gentle nudge that the Captain John Price can tickle fancy by exercising a fraction of his brawn on something worldly. He could lift your groceries, the couch, your books — but  he likes to sweep off your feet the most. Trailing your thighs, calves, the small of your back are the hands that seek reminder of his humanity, tendons and phalanges flexing with every curve it meets, venerating eyes never leaving yours which watch his display of muscle with great wonder. For you, he would carry the world. Thus, in his words, “my back is strong enough to carry both our weights for a lifetime, if you’d let me.”

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John "Soap" McTavish has developed a habit of pawing. The abundance (if not exclusive presence) of tough military equipment, smoking alloys and dogged combat routines necessitated his use of hard, impenetrable gloves. Its rugged, protective textile has unwittingly sensitised his hands to various surfaces, including bare skin. He hesitated to touch you, timorous from his own want, curiosity and the unknown. Gone are his inhibitions when graced with your guiding hands, easing the earth-riddled cowhide off his palms. Aimless hands follow your lead, pressing into you over his Henley you borrowed. Finding purchase upon your stomach, he gradually grows accustomed to the fondness of your abdomen, shortly braving his way to your chest with sturdy yet clumsy paws. A current crackles down his body as he toys with the ripples of fabric adorned by your skin, indulgence rapidly surging from his fingers to his giddy head — he is soon to be all over you, his newfound contentment switching into overdrive. Respiration turning laboured, those once shy hands grow ravenous and wayward, roaming under the influence of his enthusiasm; every sharp inhale and strained noise he extorts from you only serves to encourage him further, inciting cheeky gropes at your sides, inner thighs and behind. What would eventually drive his mind over the edge, when you finally decide he is too much, is your folding a very surprised McTavish down onto the couch over you, keeping his head to your tummy and his hands tucked to your sides, imploring him to behave himself. Chiding him to act proper was an error on your behalf; his demeanour shifts, mischief clear in his eyes as he unabashedly explores all of you, pawing at you with every naughty intent fathomable.

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Kyle "Gaz" Garrick is crazy about being sat on. By no means a foolhardy nor gormless soldier, he holds himself to high decorum with immense discipline, ever an air of diplomacy about his person. None would have imagined that a simple act as sitting on his lap would send him reeling, rendered silent for fear of speaking with neither form nor cohesion. He turns light-headed watching your thighs pool like molten lava, quads sweltering from mere contact, let alone the pleasurable tension of your weight balancing precariously off his trembling knees. Worried that his legs would tire, you made to rise, wanting to relieve him of your own gravity but you were firmly held in place; two large, veined hands anchor you resolutely onto unmoving thighs, and any attempts of persuasion, made in the interest of his own comfort, faced flat rebuffal. Gratitude towards Lady Luck nearly spills from his lips, numb with inadvertence, as you nestle your heft upon him, for want of better comfort. You mistaking his lap for an empty stool was akin to setting his legs on fire, but to make yourself comfortable against him? For a man who prided himself for his class and propriety, he quickly found himself immensely burdened with sin, and subtlety became a language long forgotten. Had he any sense left in him that was not knocked out of the ballpark by your charming self, he would not be finding himself gently playing with the hem of your shirt, folding funny shapes with the fabric between his clammy fingers. Savoury dreams of you enticed him, swimming behind his glossy eyes that are unresponsive to the lights that danced across his features. Oh, you were so much trouble to him, colouring him brazen and so very warm. He loves it, however, and you will soon find what a fiend and a devil you can be when you later use this against the soldier's poor heart.

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Alejandro Vargas will die for your scent. Tantamount to a hound, no vaquero could catch the winds of change for miles around the way he could. The smell of burning tyres against the asphalt of the streets, the oils and perfumes of the same shop houses, the settling dust of his own base, and the routine spritz of air freshener that now smelled of lemon instead of mint ever since the new hire came on duty. Where Alejandro worked, the bittersweetness of gunpowder that sweeps his olfactory is his peace, and the constant heatwave that boils a Proust phenomenon out of the hanger persists in the back of his senses, subtle yet certain. No delicate change challenged his sharpness. He has a full bible to list it all, memorised from the front to back — and though he may not be religious, he is a madly devoted man. A hypervigilance that cannot be removed must find a reprieve, and only a single odour, long seared into his mind, pulls at him not first from the mind but from the heart. You, who smelled of his blankets, you, whose shampoo and T-shirt he recognised not from the brand but from its lingering aroma, and you, who could never surprise him with your presence because the scent of you would enter the room before his name falls from your lips, and before his eyes could reach yours. You remain the only person who turned his head with such impassioned and obsessed vigour, and he knew he was done for ever since. He would press his nose deep into your cheek, your neck, or the back of your nape and find himself at home as he stood in a room full of coldhearted artillery. No proper explanation was ever given when you find a shirt or two missing over the months of his deployment, but secretly, you had always known. And like the cheek you are to his mischief, you bask in the darker colour of his cheeks when you find that mysterious missing shirt hidden in the pile of laundry from his deployment.

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Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra likes soft whispers. Such light, airy and vertiginous words that kiss the shell of his ears — they would rob the man of his joints. Everyday exchanges of each other’s day ground him and ruin him, discernible only by both your ears. While he lends his body to the field, bloody and savage, in his heart there stands a single white flag signed in your name, by his hand; in a head overrun with sounds of distorted infrared voices, caterpillar tracks crushing against gravel and of heartless iron shells dropping at two hundred rounds per minute, your quiet words remain. A man of few words must have so much thought that weighs on his tongue, until it becomes too heavy to express. Surely, you must be a godsend. The way you effortlessly loosen the words from his hardened teeth, clenched too tightly still lest a bullet comes to bite, pulls shivers from his lips and down his watery lashes. Something about your bottom lip renders him helpless, and he finds that he must rest his thumb on your lower lip to lessen the giddiness that threatens to beat his heart out of his flaming chest. Permanently latched onto the rich timber of your voice was a man desperate to preserve you, so much that he keeps all your voicemails to him and labels them by the topic, just so he can find exactly when he needs to hear, when he needs to hear it. Moments of quietude in his bunk led one thought to the next, and he often ended the day with your voice embracing the deepest parts of his soul through an old, wired earpiece, wondering if you knew what gravity you had upon him. Perhaps you do know, he believed decidedly — because when he played a new recording you sent him during his deployment, his fingers violently mashed the volume-down button of his device at your rather unique choice of words, spoken at a careless whisper. You knew he had listened to it, as the first thing he did when he returned was to hold you in your place, and return all the salacious whispers he received right back to the bane of his heart. Ten-fold.

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König has an obsession with trapping. Hugs come rare to a man of his nature; imposing, wild and unacclimated to the civilised world. When arms do find their way around him, his own snakes around them, encircling the sensation, holding it close and praying that it seeps into his skin, permeating his senses to remain seared in his remembrance. Yet, more than once, he finds the same arms, over and over, routine the way the birds must sing and the poets must write. Always your arms, by his initiative. Greed will be his downfall and he knows, and he gladly embraces his defeat, relenting to your winsome self without remorse. Never would he deem himself a small man, albeit despite the notion, he shrinks; younger and younger he becomes with you, compressed to his front as much as your skins would let, as much as his strength allows without colouring your flesh a bluish-purple, until he is but a boy cradling his most dear Bärchen, unwilling to let go. He watches with blooming gratification, the exhale that falls from your lips as you press together, eyes drooping from the pleasant pressure that grounds you to earth, all because it is he who holds you. He drinks the sight and lets the view inebriate his already intoxicated mind. On the occasion when he becomes the bear-trapped, he will amuse himself with your too-small arms that fail to close around him, and will quickly turn the tables, subjecting you to his drunken coos with an onslaught of “mein Schatz”es, “Schnuckiputzi”s and “liebling”s. Greed will be his downfall, but you must be his renaissance.

P.S.: Can you tell that I read Pride & Prejudice before writing the TF141's and König's parts? I can. :'-)

[karlachismylife]

Saw this and immediately thought of you! I hope your hiatus goes well!

Thank you so much, love! This cuteness was helping me keep it together during my hiatus and as you can see I survived, all thanks to you! Honestly the "thought of you" part just makes me tear up. Being the Hyena CEO of COD fandom is one of my biggest accomplishments (and also the most pleasant one cuz I get cute hyenas in my askbox).

So now that I'm out of my hiatus, let me tell you that these two? SoapGaz all the way.

CW: basically a short spinoff of the Queen of the Clan, can be seen as both canon and non-canon to the main story, so fem!chubby!reader and this is already established poly 141 x reader (ooh spoilers), a little bit of animal (well, shapeshifter) genitalia touching (non-sexual no matter how hard Soap- okay I'm out)

It's already at dusk that you're suddenly tasked with a simple thing everyone just kinda forgot about: there are new camera traps that need to be installed in the further part of the sanctuary, in the middle of the hyena territory, and since your reputation of a hyena whisperer has been firmly established, no one even thinks of other candidates for the late job.

You'd be quite grumpy about it if you didn't know you'll have the sweetest company to keep you safe and entertained.

Once you load the equipment into your backpack and receive written instructions - at least they didn't make you remember all the complicated measurements you'll have to make before setting up the traps - you roll your scooter out onto the dirt road and set off into the quickly darkening night. Fresh wind smells a little bit like sun-warmed dust and grass as it hits your face on the moderate speed, crickets and night birds weaving their song of nature cooling off after sunset, sounds loud enough to fill your head through the revving of weak engine and air swishing in your ears.

Not wearing a helmet is one of the least reckless things you've been up to just last month, and you can't lie, you feel a little bit power-drunk and allmighty after what you've gone through. Certain fellas do nothing to put you back on earth, shamelessly encouraging your power trip.

After all, the more confident the queen, the stronger the clan.

It's as if the wind picked up your thoughts, filled with the same four someones as always, and carried it over into the breathing with full chest savannah - because you're not even halfway to your end point and there's already loud whooping, two familiar voices, cutting through the air closer and closer to the road. Luckily for all of you, they make sure to get even louder and run a few dozens meters through the tall grass framing the curb, before two large silouettes jump out on the road to escort you in leisurely pace.

There's something so satisfying in the realization that you actually managed to indentify them just by their voices - Gaz's melodic, always slightly purring whooping somehow still distinct even when there are Soap's excited, hasty whoops, almost tripping over themselves and getting grabled with the inexplainable accent he carries into his hyena form too. Their big forms traverse the road effortlessly, even Soap's bulky body taking on that predatory elegance to match Gaz in his dark, determined trotting - they make some loops around you and your scooter, tails raised in excitement, and and shut up only after you turn the engine off at your stop, propping the machine on its stand.

Soap nearly jumps you, balancing poorly on one hind leg and trying to paw at you with both front ones, screeching and whining with his widest smile and tongue lolling out. You chuckle and boop his wide nose, ready to bend down for some kisses, but Gaz, ever the polite one, nudges your hip with his dark muzzle and raises his leg too.

Right. They really wanted you to get in onto the whole greeting ritual - sitting you down for a gentle talk and reassuring it that it's not weird, if it's them. They're not animals, they're just... animal-shaped. Your arguement about palming crotches as a greeting being weird with humans to was kinda just thrown away. After all, they're your clan, they're yours, why would anything be weird between you?

So you oblige, crouching with a sigh and running some quick bellyrubs down their patiently waiting bodies, until you reach two proudly erect hyena members. It's just a ritual, it'll help them with watever scent-hierarchy-service thing they've got going on, you have to remind yourself, as you briefly skim over their genitals and pull your hands away, wiping them off on the boys' fur and slapping Soap's fluffy butt for trying to grind into your palm.

"You try that again and I'm never touching you again, Stinky, you hear me?" You even make a point out of returning the old nickname, and watch with satisfaction as Soap's fluffy ears lower miserably and he dips down to the ground, the embodiment of guilt.

Not for long, though - after he gets a kiss on the nose from you, Gaz jumps Soap and bites his scruff, starting a scuffle. Their commanding officers seem to be busy, so Sergeants have a lot of energy to spare - you know that better than anyone.

Yesterday bitemarks on your thighs still sting as you unload your backpack and pull all the equipment out. Leaning your butt against the scooter, you put on the little headlamp and start reading through your instructions, laughing and fighting off both Soap and Gaz that stopped playfighting just to rummage and sniff through your things.

"Shush! Mum's reading, it's important," you throw at them, earning two sets of outraged huffs - no need to understand hyena language to hear the "you're not our mum" hidden between grumpy sneezes. It works, though, both hyenas plop their asses next to you, Gaz leaning against your hip to get some chin scratches and Soap playing with the strap of your backpack, throwing it around, tugging and chewing on the buckle in the middle. "Okay, it shouldn't be long. Hey, can you help me?"

They both jump up immediately, Soap puffing his chest out and fluffing up his mane just to show how helpful he is, Gaz just standing patiently, only reaching his neck to try and sneak a peek into the paper you're holding.

"I'll be doing some measurements, and you guys please dig a little holes where I say, okay? Not deep, just... well, to fit that thing, see?" You nod at one of the camera traps and after they both inspect it with thorough sniffs and shy nibbles and grumble in understanding, you get that laser tape measure - much easier to use alone and in the night.

Finding one of the spots you need to measure from, you crouch, set the laser and look down at the number on the screen. Too close. With a grunt, you scoot a little further and press the button again. Aha, there!

"Okay, so can you now make a hole right where the laser dot is? Guys?" Confused by the lack of movement from your usually very eager to help and serve hyenas, you look up.

Only to see them both staring at the little dot of your tape measure with tails on high alert and legs in a wide stance, prime for pouncing.

For fuck's sake, you forgot they're basically overgrown spotted cats.

Series masterlist | Main masterlist

[machveil]

I couldn’t be on a mission or training or even just generally living in the same space as any of these men because I would constantly have to fight the urge to smack them on the ass, and I know I would lose that fight

-🐸

HELP I was literally thinking about this lmfao

CoD Headcanon: Cop a Feel

these men have asses meant for grabbin’, is a handful too much to ask for? featuring: Simon “Ghost” Riley, John “Soap” MacTavish, König

CW: groping, generally getting handsy, suggestive, Johnny being a dog is it’s own warning

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

god forbid you smack, grab, or fondle his ass on base or on a deployment. Ghost does not have the patience for that, you’re playing a risky game with him right now and Ghost never loses

it doesn’t matter if you’re friends or dating or something in between, if you land on a hit on him you’re getting put in your place. especially if you do it in front of other soldiers, in front of his team. as soon as he can, he’ll be dragging you off somewhere secluded - you think you’re funny? or are you just that desperate for attention?

Simon, off duty, at home or in public, is a little more open to the attention. he himself isn’t opposed to slipping his hand into your back pocket - an innocent act of affection until he squeezes. he’s fair, if he gets to do that then you can feel him up a little too

he’d prefer it to be at home, but if you cop a feel while walking down the street, or in line at the check-out, he won’t say anything. at home though? he’s flesh and blood, can you blame the man when he scoops you up in his arms, hands grabbing the back of your thighs as he nips and kisses your neck? “You started it, lovie.”, is all you’ll hear before he’s marching to the nearest surface

John “Soap” MacTavish:

are you dating? are you just friends? it doesn’t matter, before you can even think about getting handsy Soap is already sneaking up on you. full gear or dressed in civvies, his hands are finding their way to your ass first. it’s fun for him— don’t look down, keep your eyes on his

Soap has self control, not a lot, but he does. he’ll try his hardest to keep his hands to himself. but, if he feels you grab a handful and squeeze? he’s grinning while you laugh, already pawing at your hips and kneading the fat of your ass as payback

Johnny is an absolute dog at home, just a mutt for your attention. he goes crazy for a hand on his bicep, eyes half lidded when you place a hand on his knee - grabbing his ass? he’s practically drooling when you smack it, groaning when you squeeze. you’ll be nice to him and let him feel you up too, right?

it’s only fair, bonnie! he’ll be gentle, just let him love on you— no! don’t walk away smiling, is that a fit of giggles he hears? “Naw, get over here! Dinnea think you’re getting out of this!”, he’ll chase after you, all toothy smiles and booming laughter

König:

do not embarrass him, Maus. he’s a well respected, feared Colonel, he has a dangerous reputation. a behemoth of a man that can snap someone in half with pure, brutish strength alon— “Ach—! Du kleiner Schlingel!”, he’ll get red in the (thankfully hidden) face, his neck to his ears burning as he gasps. on duty! on duty, in front of his men! how dare you

he can take a joke, physical and verbal, but don’t expect him to walk it off - König lives for messing with people, a little mischief never hurt anyone. so, go ahead, grope him on base if you want to! just don’t whine when he spanks you later in passing, heavy handed and laughing as you yelp

when König comes back home? oh, please touch him! he’s starving for affection, even if it comes in the form of you kneading his ass especially then. is he tall, and strong, and overall intimidating? yes, yes he is. is he a wet sock of a man that’s desperate for you? oh, of course

he’ll purposefully turn his back to you when you’re in the kitchen, acting surprised when you wind up for KO. he’ll knead the fat of your thighs, grope your hips, kiss your neck, anything if you promise to keep touching him. he’ll be embarrassed in public if you rest your hand on his ass while walking, a hushed little whine when you squeeze, but it’s exactly what he wants

[xo-cod]

https://www.tumblr.com/xo-cod/738798264594415616/141-k%C3%B6nig-sex-bloopers

sorry yeah that's it i meant irl it's not perfect and stuff happens sometimes :) whatever ignore this im silly

you're not silly, i loved this :') <3 this might be cringe and it's ooc/rushed/headcannons but LMAOO i tried my best :") nsfw/sfw ahead!

part 2

the not so sexy moments of sex with the 141

price trying to be all sexy and suave loosening his top and removing his bucket hat in an act of seduction which results in him stubbing his toe and yelping in pain for a good few minutes

gaz panicking at the thought of his cum going into your eye after a blowjob and proceeding to scare himself for days on the off-chance you develope some sort of eye infection

soap after getting slightly confused with what he was doing grabbed a diagram of a vagina and made you hold it so he could have better success rate of making you cum

simon screeching loudly after snapping on his latex condom a little harder than recommended. bear with him, he has to take a few minutes, his body took a screenshot from how intense it was

price ending up falling asleep during a hand job but in his defence he was on five days with three hours of sleep and a whole bunch of coffee that was keeping him going

gaz very confidently and with that half smirk of his, mid way giving you the best head asking you if you're about to have an organism

soap realizing very quickly that food play is not like the movies and that it stings/burns, proceeds to awkwardly hop and waddle into the bathroom

simon trying be all cute and romantic which results in him spooning you close to his body, only to proceed to hack and choke when he inhaled your hair by accident

price having the lack of coordination after he tried to undress himself trying to come over to the bed and ending up face planting into the floor with a huge thud and a string of curse words following by (this mans just stays falling LMAO)

gaz genuinely ashamed about tearing your expensive lingerie in his excitement that he gives himself a time out and learns the true meaning patience

simon, bless his heart, already breaking the bedframe in his excitement when he grabbed you and pinned you against it.

gaz frantically trying to get it back it up, cussing his cock out and trying to awkwardly laugh but it comes out as a cry for help

simon slamming his forehead into the doorframe when he tried to be all hot and sexy, proceeding to cut himself and cuss everything out within a 10 mile radius (never you though :3)

soap's confidence absolutely obliterating when he was so turned on he ended up cumming while trying to get inside you

gaz making you take a survey after sex and telling you to rate the experience and what he could improve on next time

simon absolutely enraged at the mark on your neck thinking someone had hurt you, completely forgetting he was the one to leave it on you and it was a hickey

soap falling asleep while trying to go down on you after he finished a long mission. his head was buried between the warmth and comfort of your thighs and his eyes fell like shutters, nuzzling deep unconsciously into your heat

simon just zoning out when staring at your tits, lost in a trance and you're wondering if he's going to actually touch them. he does so but after a good 15 minutes

price squeezing your tiddies to paw at them and get them all perky but ends up feeling your ribs in the darkness and gets excited.

soap just poking at your nipple mid thrust in pure curiosity. not even to flick or pinch them, just a small poke before he goes back to doing what he was doing

gaz having a sneezing fit when he tried to lick your neck and chest only to be allergic to the perfume you were wearing

[mi-i-zori]

With Love and Purrs

CoD - Shifter!AU - Cat Shifter!Nikto x GN!Reader

SYNOPSIS : A kind of headcanon-like thingy about Cat Shifter!Nikto meeting his reason to live.

WARNINGS : Mention of Nikto thinking about how deadly his job is for a moment. Otherwise, this is pure fluff.

Author’s Note : I’m back, and I’ve got a few things to share, starting with this ! The worms have been wiggling about hybrids and shifters lately. Maybe it’ll become a new AU.

I do not give anyone permission to re-publish, re-use and/or translate my work, be it here or on any other platform, including AI.

CoD AUs - Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Nikto catches sight of Reader multiple times during a long stay at the base they work at. He quickly learns that they have a job in the administration, and comes to appreciate the aura they exude. Their smile seems engraved in his mind both day and night, refusing to leave his thoughts. He finds himself wishing to be the source of their happiness, even if just for a fleeting moment.

Yet he can’t stop his mind from lashing out against this feeling, screaming about how doing so could lead him to another path full of pain ; like it always seems to be.

Which is why he decides to find a compromise with himself and approach them in an… Unconventional way.

He comes to them in his animal form - a black, rugged little stray cat with piercing blue eyes and patches of scarred skin lingering among his already unruly fur. As always, he stays silent ; making them jump when someone points out that a peculiar feline is following them at a distance, never letting them out of its sight.

They immediately start cooing at him, lowering their voice as if to not startle him. They stay where they are, calling him with a hand outstreched towards his form. Despite his usual wary self, he immediately grasps the opportunity between his paws, giving their fingers the tiniest sniff before timidly snuggling against them.

Still, it takes him quite some time before he manages to not instinctively shy or jump away from their touch. Yet they never seem to get tired of him - smiling and slow blinking at him as he lays on what quickly became his special chair and blanket in their office, sometimes talking to him quietly, allowing him a glimpse of their thoughts.

They respect his space, which he is constantly grateful for. They ask for his permission before petting him, slowly coming to hold a hand in front of his nose, and never getting upset when he doesn’t feel like cuddling. They apologize whenever they accidentally spook him, and try to calm him down with a few peaceful words and coos. They try to contain their excitement whenever he allows them to pet or kiss him, yet he can feel it radiating from them.

He become the source of their joy more and more, and he can’t help but feel a little smug about it.

However, he isn’t really fond of their colleagues. Some of them try to force their need for feline cuddles on him despite Reader’s warnings. They make a show of lightly scolding him when he scratches, bites or hisses at the idiots, but never fail to smile and reassure him when he grumbles about it after the unwanted attention-seeker leaves.

« They never learn the lesson, do they ? » They say. « I’m sorry, Baby. » Nikto wishes he could tell them they are not the one who needs to apologize, especially not when they are so good to him.

He also likes that name. Baby. But don’t tell anyone.

One man, though, is worse than the others. He never comes to try and pet him, and Nikto doesn’t care about the way he looks at him, as if he were the scourge of the Earth - he is used to the negativity dancing in the eyes of others on his path, even more in his human form. But the man flirts shamelessely with his human, and he loathes it. He can feel Reader’s discomfort the second that arrogant bastard’s footsteps echo down the hall, and sees the exasperated sigh that crosses their lips just before he automatically makes his way through the door as if he owns the whole place. Nikto makes his point by glaring at him until the idiot gets uncomfortable enough to leave, and hisses when he breezes past his chair on his way out. He relishes in the satisfied smile they give him, the kisses they blow his way as a relieved thank you.

Then comes the day he has to go on a mission again. He doesn’t know how long he will be gone, if he’ll even be able to see them again. His shoulders are heavy as he boards the plane, glancing one last time at the door beyond the tarmac wondering if, somewhere in the building, the one that holds his heart will be waiting for his return.

And said heart leaps with delight when he finally steps on the base’s grounds again ; battered and bruised, exhausted and sore, but alive. He doesn’t waste a second to let his little paws follow the lines of the corridors leading to his Reader’s office. The arrogant flirt is there when he arrives, and Nitko is more than happy to tear their attention away from him the second he walks through their door. He rubs his entire side against their legs, his face against their fingers. He preens as the idiot bites back a snarl and almost runs out of the room ; his love doesn’t even notice, to busy running their hands through his fur as they ask him where he’s been.

« I’ve been thinking, » they say, sounding like they are about to make him the most outrageous of confessions, « would you like to come home with me ? »

Nikto is too focused on trying to quell the erratic beating of his heart to register their nervous babbling about how they asked around and learned he was a stray hanging around the base, and how they have been thinking about it for months. He cuts them off with his first meow in what feels like an eternity. It’s rough, and almost sounds nothing more like a disgusting gurgle in his ears ; but their eyes lit up with happiness, their excitement wafting off of them in unrestrained waves as they pick him up. And he lets them, his claws digging into their shirt as if they were going to vanish right before his eyes.

His new reality settles in as they put him down on the floor of their apartment. The scents are the first thing that hits him. It smells like them, feels like them. The cushions on their sofa are the softest against his rugged pawpads, but so are their carpets and their bed. They let him explore every single corner of their home - his home, they insist on saying, and Nikto’s heart threatens to burst out of his ribcage.

He now spends his days lounging in their office, learning to indulge in his teasing side more as he rolls around on their desk, and his nights in whatever free space of their apartment he feels like invading. He learns to meow more, his voice sounding the tiniest bit clearer every time, and to purr too. The rumbles are awkward and raspy, but he happily lets them out as Reader combs through his erratic fur.

He sighs dreamily whenever they turn their back, wishing he could give them everything they offer him back tenfold. So he takes it upon himself to « groom » them whenever they try to detangle his fur, showering them with his own kind of kisses and silent love. He fights his aversion for touch to cuddle more, savoring the smiles it brings out on their face. He goes to sleep next to their pillow, and wakes up sprawled on top of their chest, listening to their quiet heartbeat.

There’s this one time when they tell him how much he reminds them of a certain masked soldier they crossed paths with a few times back at the base. They gush about the piercing blue of the man’s eyes, so similar to his ; his confident strides, the nods of greeting he took the time to offer them, his silent, brooding and soothing presence in the elevator. They recall the time the soldier shielded them from a pushy idiot, telling him off with the silent sharpness of a stone and the coldness of ice. Nikto doesn’t need to be told the details of this story ; he remembers well the blush coating their cheeks as he escorted them back to their office, wary of the glint that danced in the flirty soldier’s eyes. A blush so similar to the one they carry as they gush about that « imposing gentleman of a stranger » - and probably to the one warming up his own face under his fur.

A part of him is terrified at the idea that they might end up catching on the situation - that the cat they adopted, that they worry about for months when he disappears, is actually that man they would love to know more leaving on deadly missions. He considered multiple times faking his death once more to finally be able to stay with them for good, protect them too. But the thought of being rejected, thrown out for being a disgusting creep, tears his heart apart.

Yet another side of him starts purring the second he thinks about how he could finally be accepted for who he is. A feline shifter, yes, but also a broken man, yearning for love behind the many walls and barriers he hides behind in order to protect himself.

They don’t know the truth, obviously. He’s been very careful about everything, though he can’t do anything about the deployments.

But for the first time in forever, Nikto hopes.

And for the first time in forever, he might be surprised by how sharp his dear Reader can be…

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

TF141 Meeting Soap’s Little Sister (a.k.a. You)

CoD ML

The task force didn’t know what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t this. They already have to deal with Soap’s husky antics, which can already be too much to handle. Multiply that by two and no one, especially Simon, wants to deal with that.

But they certainly wouldn’t mind the company of the woman in the doorway.

Why on earth didn’t Soap warn them?

For John, it’s the sweater paws. For a second they make him selfishly want to dress you in one of his sweaters.

For Simon, it’s the way you shyly hide behind your brother, a habit you still have at your big age. Normally he loathes shows of fragility, but yours is endearing to him. For the first time in a very long while, it kindles something in him.

For Kyle, it’s your eyes. He simply can’t look away even though he’s aware it makes you uncomfortable.

“Lads, meet my sister, Y/N.” The adoration Soap has for you is plain to see in the gentle smile that plays out on his lips, proud to be your brother and amused you’ve barely changed from your younger days. Why else would you look at him, lowkey terrified of the strangers he’s brought into your home. “It’s awright, hen. They’re good men, even the big bawbag with the skull mask. Go oan an’ introduce yerself.”

Clutching your brother’s sleeve, relieved he’s home and glad for his protection, you introduce yourself. “Hi, I’m Y/N.”

And in that moment, without so much as trying, you have your brother’s unit wrapped around your finger.

So much so that Simon removes his balaclava before he even crosses the threshold. Unbeknownst to you, it’s extremely rare to see the man without his mask and always leads to the unit members exchanging surprised glances.

“What’s this, LT?” your brother asks, badly faking disbelief.

“Proper etiquette. Plus, I can’t eat with the thing on.”

“Oh, so you do eat. I thought ghosts didn’t have ta.”

“Johnny…”

“Just messing with ye, Ghost.”

“Ghost?” you ask.

“It’s my callsign, miss. I- I mean, Y/N.” He keeps his distance, but tries to make himself as small as possible to seem less intimidating. “We ain’t on duty now, so’s just Simon.”

“I see.”

Throughout the night, your brother’s comrades try to win your favour. Kyle offers to help set the table, teaming up with John who beats him to it by lifting the stack of plates in your hands. “Can’t have the lady of the house do everything, can we?”

“But-“

“Please, Y/N, allow me.” His features soften, though there’s a strange glint in his eyes you can’t name. Nevertheless, it sharpens further into sterness as John turns around and starts speaking like you’d imagine he does out in the field. “Gaz, get over here. We have to help our hostess out.”

“You… you really don’t…”

“It’s the least we can do,” Kyle reassures you, shown up at your side at the first word of the captain. “We’ll try to do it neatly.”

“Oi, Gaz, stop being cheeky and get moving.”

“Yes, sir.” Kyle sighs. “He makes it sound like we’re on a battlefield. Fortunately, this is less severe, innit?”

“It might be if there aren’t glasses between now and ten seconds,” John mutters, circling around you two to put the last plates down and move on to cutlery.

“Ever the perfectionist. Where do you keep them?” Kyle asks.

You point at a cupboard. “Right there.”

“Okay. Y/N, we’ll do a proper job. Promise.” And with that, he’s off to help set the table.

While cooking, you observe Simon dawdling around the kitchen. Or, rather, as you discover when you lift your head to check what’s going on, he’s forced to thanks to Johnny.

“Och, just offer yer help. Ah dinnae ken, chop some veggies. Also, she’s into video games- Y/N!” Johnny slaps Simon on the shoulder, feigning ignorance. “Can this wee bawbag help ye with anything?”

“Stop calling me that,” Simon grumbles through gritted teeth.

“Do you cook?”

“He-“ Soap opens his mouth to answer for his friend yet finds himself cut short.

“Haud yer wheest, John. I was nae asking you, I was asking Simon.” Holding out your spatula as a threat to your brother, you turn to the gentle giant.

Simon looks at you through his lashes, but quickly averts his gaze when your eyes meet. “I dabble. Try to put proper grub on the table sometimes.”

“Help me do the same?”

“Uh… sure.”

“Lovely!”

“Have fun, LT.” Johnny offers you both a cheeky grin, then turns on his heel to return to the others.

And so Simon finds himself cooking alongside you. Truth be told, you partially did it to save him from his brothers in arms. Regardless of how well he knows them and the amount of time he’s spent with them, their extroverted personalities still wear him out. His silence is telling, different from the intimidating version he dropped the moment you opened the door. You’ve seen how his eyes glaze over, occupied with dreams you can only guess at. Occasionally he’ll nod and make a noise to make the others think he’s listening.

Nevertheless, it’s still surprising Simon tries to start a conversation.

A conversation that goes in all sorts of, mostly nerdy, directions. So soon you find yourself listening to elaborate explanations of the lore of various FromSoftware games, a topic Simon passionately enlightens you on.

He stops mid-sentence when you chuckle. “What?”

“You have a nice voice.”

“Oh… uh… thanks.”

“Jesus, Y/N, you’re some kind of miracle worker.” Gaz walks into the kitchen to grab another beer from the fridge. “How’d you get Ghost to talk?”

Simon glowers at his companion, but stands down when you gesture for him to remain calm. “Sometimes you simply need the right person, a genuine heart that listens. Now, boys, let’s eat.”

“Food?” Johnny calls from the couch.

“My days, what are ye? A husky?” you call, only partially truly annoyed.

Dinner is an amiable affair. The men (yes, even Soap) censor themselves, finding it inappropriate to start effin and blindin in your company. All the same, they include you in the conversation however possible and fall silent when they notice you want to chime in. Unbeknownst to you all, Johnny is especially vigilant none of the other men makes an advance towards you. Sure, you’re a grown woman. Nonetheless, to him, you’ll always be the wee bairn he held as a four-year-old boy, the barely grown girl who couldn’t stop crying when he was deployed for the first time.

You’re his little sister, the only girl he’d gift the moon if he could.

That being said, though, should you end up with any member of the unit, he dearly hopes it’s Simon. So it’s actually quite reassuring for him to see you two get along as well as you do.

“Two peas in a pod,” Soap mumbles, the words muffled by beer and the clinking of cutlery.

The lads gesture for you to remain seated while they clear the table and do the dishes.

“‘S alright, Y/N. Leave it to us,” John says when you try to get up from your chair.

“You really don’t-“

“No, no. Please.” The bear-like hand on your shoulder is gentle though strong, persuasive in its conviction for you to remain seated. “A small favour, really, to repay your kindness.”

The table cleared, John and Simon excuse themselves for a quick smoke. In the meanwhile, Johnny and Kyle wash the dishes.

For dessert, you sit the men down with coffee and tea to enjoy with a scone.

Kyle falls a little more for you when you show you’re full of contrasts. Shy on the surface yet so fierce when defying your brother. “I was doing fine, crocheting my time away without puppy antics.”

“I’m nae like a dog.” Your brother stops mid-bite to protest.

“Johnny, yer a bloody husky.”

“Well, at least I’m one that did nae get shot.”

“Oh, haud yer wheesht, like you ever will. Just enjoy yer scone and tea. Wait!” You hasten to the fridge to retrieve a jar of orange marmelade. “Here, have this.”

“Homemade?”

“‘Course. It’s not like I’ve forgotten how you dislike store bought.”

“Thanks, sis.”

“Thank you for coming back in one piece, bro.” You turn to the men, who all sit up, alert. “And thank you for bringing my brother home.”

John has to restrain himself and not give into the urge to plop you in his lap. To make sure he won’t, he tucks his hands between his legs when you brush past him to retake your seat across the table.

Simon is good at hiding his emotions, but definitely wouldn’t mind it if you leaned on him and talked some more about video gaming. He loves the way your whole expression brightens when you do and would like nothing better than for you to be his player number two.

Stories and small talk, with the occasional silence to appreciate being alive and well, fills the kitchen as the arms of the clock creep closer to midnight.

At some point you stifle a yawn. Unfortunately, not before your brother catches you doing so. Johnny looks at the clock then back at you. “Alright, lads, it’s been great. However, despite her stubborn arse refusing to admit it, Y/N’s getting tired. Now being the great big brother I am,” the harsh slap on the upper arm does little to make him pipe down, “I think it’s time I show all of you the door.”

John, Kyle, and Simon get up without so much as a word of protest. After all, it’s bad etiquette to wear your hostess out nor does it help your chances with her.

You expected only a handshake as a farewell. Nevertheless, it’s hard to refuse the open invitation for a hug John gives you. His embrace is warm and gentle, testing out the waters to see what you will and won’t allow. His chest rises and falls with a satisfied sigh when you let him rest his head on top of yours. To be honest, it’s nice and comforting, the way he rubs some heat into your arms. “Goodnight, love. Thank you for the splendid evening.”

Kyle’s hug is more casual, like you’re a dear friend he’ll see again in the short run.

“Can I get a hug from you too?” you ask the man standing by the door, who has his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. For a moment Simon seems about to step forward. Yet, for whatever reason, he remains where he stands.

“I don’t think-“

“Please?”

How can he say no now? His mind short-circuits when you wrap your arms around his waist. His hands hover in the air for a moment before he places them lightly on your shoulders. “Thanks for tonight, Y/N.”

“Had fun?”

“I did.”

“Glad to hear it. Also,” you lean back to look at him, “keep the mask off. You’re not a lieutenant here, not Ghost.”

An amused hum escapes Simon, though later in the car he’d have to keep denying Kyle’s allegations he saw him smile. “Copy.”

“Go oan, I won’t keep you any longer.”

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Simon.”

You watch the men clamber into John’s car. They’re all staying the night at his place before heading off home.

“You like him, don’t ye?”

“Who?”

“Ghost.”

“I don’t know him.” Johnny gives you a quizzical look. “Simon, though, perhaps. He’s a good man.”

“He is.”

The only man who has his blessing to court you.

Who he hopes will truly be family one day.

His future brother-in-law.

[thedovesaredying]

Monsters in the Dark | Nikto x Reader | Part 2

Second chapter of the Cowboy!Nikto AU. Written from the POV of Nikto this time. A reminder once again that there's a prologue and "part 1" is only the first full chapter. The original cowboy AU is owned and created by @ghouljams.

A/N: I'm a day late on my estimation for when it would be done, but life decided to get me sick, busy with uni work, and put one of my legs completely out of action. I also realized about 3 husbandry manuals deep into my research that the chapter would be a bit too long if I included that much information. Instead, the info will be sprinkled in among the next few chapters.

Warnings: Sputnik being a silly girl.

Masterlist: CoD Masterlist

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The weather is downright miserable. While one might assume the worst weather would be torrential rain or unforgiving hail, Nikto is firmly of the belief that there’s nothing worse than a hot, sunny day. It’s hard enough to be constantly covered from head to toe, but to then add on the Texan sun beating down at its full strength? He’s certain he’ll be nothing more than a puddle of sweat by the end of the day.  

At least Sputnik seems to be enjoying the disgusting temperatures. She’s running around the front of the property, completely unfazed by the heat. She welcomes it, in fact, using it as the perfect excuse to paddle into the large dam for a cool swim at the day’s warmest.  

Her paws are caked with mud and grass, so much to her sadness she’s been barred from entering the house, forced to wait until she’s dried off and all the muck has fallen off of her paws. If she’s still dirty by the end of the day then a quick hosing down will be in order, but she’ll likely consider that a fun game too.  

For now, she’s content to lay stretched out on the porch, her side rapidly rising and falling as she pants.  

The weather isn’t the only thing that’s miserable, however. Nikto’s mood has been foul ever since his forced trip into town for new supplies. A certain hyena had decided that she was bored while her owner was away and had decided to chew a rather large hole in the wall of the shed.  

The hole was easily large enough for her to climb through and so, after having already spent most of the day hard at work, Nikto was forced to leave for the only hardware store in town. Some new planks of wood and a hammer not riddled with rust later, and he’s reminded of the invoice he received the vet clinic a few days prior and has also yet to pay for.  

He’s not quite sure what possessed him to go to the clinic in person, but he was disappointed regardless with what greeted him. The receptionist was painfully cheery and seemed determined to dig into his business with her endless questions. He’d left feeling completely drained from only a single conversation with the woman. You hadn’t been there. He can’t fathom why that annoys him so much.  

The hole in the shed was simple enough to fix, even under the intensity of the sweltering heat, but the issue of Sputnik remains.  

Clearly, he can’t leave her unattended for several hours at a time just for work. She’s never had to entertain herself in such an environment and clearly, it’s stressing her out being without her only packmate. She requires both social interaction and physical activity, but above all of that, needs mental stimulation.  

Like a toddler left without a guardian, Sputnik has decided that she can tear apart the house and garden while unattended. Plants have been torn out of the ground, wooden structures gnawed to bits, and most concerningly, large holes dug along the fence line.  

The situation is far from ideal, but Nikto does not abandon his own. He isn’t like those bastards at the CIA who are willing to leave those loyal to them knowing full well they will perish without help. He made that decision a long time ago, and Sputnik’s very name is a tribute to that.  

It was only three years ago, but it felt like eons. It started with a small enemy group hidden deep within the South African wilderness who were utilising spotted hyenas as guard animals. Nikto and his team had cut through the animals both outside and inside the building, even the ones hidden away in the basement below. 

In the end, only a single cub remained; a tiny girl still nestled up against the steadily cooling body of her mother. She couldn’t have been more than a week or two of age, bright eyed as all hyena newborns are, and covered in scraggly fur.  

The other men on the team planned on putting the animal out of her misery, but the sight gave Nikto pause. She was small and defenceless, and abandoned by her cowardly handlers to be killed by their enemy. It was a story he couldn’t help but find familiar. Picking up the infant, she snuggles into his vest, completely trusting of him despite not having known him for more than a few seconds.  

She whines and licks at him as he tucks her into his shirt, safe and warm pressed up against scarred skin. No one says a word, when he leaves the compound with the cub and boards the waiting helicopter for the trip back to base.  

His first thought was to name her Laika, but that name seemed a little too common for his taste, and so he chose Sputnik, the name of Laika’s space capsule and eventual tomb. A tribute to yet another stray who was left behind by those who should have protected her.  

Sputnik would not suffer the same fate; she would never be disregarded like a broken toy thrown into the trash. She’s good, she’s loyal, she trusts Nikto unconditionally. Destroying a bit of property would never be a reason to break that trust.  

Instead, he presses dial on your number and holds his phone to his ear. He’s been thinking it over for several minutes, finger hovering over the button with your contact listed, before forcing himself to press it. For a long while it rings and he’s about to give up when you finally answer with a bright greeting to whoever is on the other side.  

He grunts out your name, listening as you happily chirp his own back at him in return. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” you ask. He can hear the soft rumbling of a car’s engine in the background and can only assume you’re driving somewhere.  

“I require... assistance,” he says after a long pause, letting the conversation drift into silence. While it isn’t necessarily help he’s asking for, it still rankles deeply that he isn’t solving the issue alone. He despises being indebted to anyone for anything, but for some reason he doesn’t get the feeling you’re out to acquire favours from anyone. You’re a professional merely doing what you’re trained for and nothing more. He can admire that.  

“What can I help you with? Is Sputnik alright?” You sound so genuinely concerned about her, so much so that it sounds like you almost drop your phone.  

He glances down at the hyena laying happily at his feet, panting up at him with a broad grin. “She is fine,” he confirms, catching the relieved sigh you let out, “it is behavioural issues she is dealing with.”  

You make a soft sound, clearly intrigued, “well, I’m on the road at the moment heading toward my next appointment, but I should have time to drop in to your place in a few hours. Will you be around then?”  

“да,” he hums, “we will be here.”  

“Perfect! I’ll be there in a few,” you confirm, and after offering an acknowledging grunt, he ends the call.  

He goes to pocket the phone but pauses, glancing at your number. Mulling it over for a good long while, he selects the number and adds it to his contacts. There’s only two other people there, one of them his current workplace and the other one of his old acquaintances from before even his time in KorTac.  

A rather dramatic huff from Sputnik draws his attention from staring at his phone, and he watches her with hidden amusement as she rolls over onto her stomach. She looks up at him with big, sad eyes and a pathetic whine. When he merely rolls his eyes at her she playfully snaps her teeth in his direction.  

“Я не знал, что ты такая королева драмы,” he growls back, curling the undamaged part of his lip at her.  

The hyena, fortunately, can tell he’s still joking despite his deadpan tone and leaps to her feet with a delighted cackle. She shakes out her coat, biting at the air. The moment he so much as twitches a finger in her direction she turns and leaps off the top of the deck, forgoing the stairs so she can sprint across the yard.  

Nikto stands from his chair but doesn’t give chase, watching as the crazy animal spins around in circles before darting off toward the dam again. She dives into the water with a splash, sending muddy water in all directions. He cringes slightly at the sight of the hyena now dripping with muck. At least he was already planning on hosing her down. The rest of the afternoon passes slowly, with Nikto taking some time to rest while Sputnik causes minimal trouble.  

When your car finally does pull up, the poor girl has exhausted herself again, laying in a pile of leaves while she happily naps away. The moment her flicking ears pick up the sound of your truck on the gravel she jumps up again, eyes wide as she takes in the familiar sight. She’s already giggling to herself with excitement, looking between Nikto and your vehicle.  

“место!” Nikto calls, ignoring the sad whimper that earns. He approaches when you pull up, patiently waiting as you drop out of the front seat and close the door behind you.  

When you spot him, you offer a wave and grin, “hey, Nikto!” You take a moment to glance over at Sputnik and he can see her near enough vibrating with how excited she is to come over and greet you out of the corner of her eye. “How’ve you been doing?” you stop just before him, looking him right in the eye, completely unfazed by the monster you’re facing down.  

“We are fine,” he says, perhaps a little too firmly given the way you blink at him, “we require some assistance with behavioural issues.” He quickly amends his statement in the hopes of not immediately scaring you off.  

Fortunately, you’re quick to bounce back, a smile returning to your face, “of course, what sorts of problems are you experiencing?”  

“Спутник!” The hyena’s head shoots up upon hearing her name, “ко мне!” She sprints across the grass, very nearly crashing into his legs with her enthusiasm to heed her owner’s command. “She is getting bored when left alone,” he explains, watching as you reach your hand out for the hyena, “eating walls, digging holes, breaking everything she can reach.”  

Sputnik snuffles at your hand, before whining and immediately shifting to lean up against you, demanding pets. You scratch behind her neck and Sputnik’s tongue lolls out of her mouth in delight. “I’m sure we can work something out to help prevent her from damaging anything else or accidentally eating something she shouldn’t be.”  

“She struggles when left alone, especially during work hours,” he adds on, turning and starting to stalk toward the side of the house where the majority of the damage can be seen.  

“Okay, well she sounds like she just needs some enrichment to keep her occupied while you’re away,” you nod to yourself as you follow Nikto around to the side of the house. Several of the small plants that had been happily growing in little spots around the yard have been either pulled from the soil or completely shredded if they couldn’t be moved.  

You look at the scattered remains of the poor shed’s wall, but don’t look entirely surprised by the backyard warzone you’ve stepped into. You frown down at Sputnik, scratching her between the ears, “what a silly girl,” you coo, rubbing at her ears as the hyena grins up at you with half-lidded eyes, “you shouldn’t be eating all this stuff, it’ll make your tummy sore!” 

Somehow, your baby-talk voice just serves to make Sputnik even giddier, and she eagerly licks at the tips of your fingers. Nikto almost rolls his eyes at the little heart eyes the animal is subjecting you to. It’s impressive, really, how she can remember someone is a friend from only a single interaction.  

When you snap back from your babying of the animal, you quickly refocus. “Hyenas have very powerful jaws, and they love to chew things, so if she doesn’t have enough to keep her entertained then she’ll find something to destroy.”  

“She was given an old tyre a few weeks ago, but it only lasted a few days.” To say he was deeply unimpressed with how quickly she’d torn it to pieces would be an understatement. He knew that Sputnik had quite the bite on her, but to chomp through nine millimetres of rubber like it’s cardboard? Impressive, if a little annoying.  

“How big is your freezer?” you abruptly ask him, and Nikto suddenly worries where this line of questioning is going. Does he need to check the trunk of your car? Regardless, he offers you a nod.  

“Perfect!” You clap your hands together, making Sputnik jump excitedly at the sudden sound, “it’s supposed to be quite hot tomorrow, so I can think of at least one idea for her.” You start listing out what the two of you are going to do rapid-fire with the same confidence and efficiency of any commanding officer.  

You’re in your element, your passion for your work clear as day and you have him following your every instruction. You’re like a fount of knowledge when it comes to anything and everything husbandry related, suggesting changes to Sputnik’s diet, new toys to keep her entertained, and ways to prevent her from destroying anything she really shouldn’t be messing with.  

When you finally end up leaving, it’s long past sundown. Sputnik has grown bored of watching the two of you working in the shed and has retired to her massive dog bed for a nap, so the two of you have been working in comfortable silence. He’s glad you don’t feel the need to fill the air with irritating chatter, only offering corrections here and there.  

He escorts you to back to your truck, closing your door behind you once you’re settled comfortably into the driver’s seat. You roll down the window and offer him a grin, but he can see just how tired you are given how your eyes are slightly drooped. “How much do we owe?” he asks, quickly tearing his gaze from your sweet smile.  

Little wrinkles appear across your forehead as your lips turn downward, an innocent, confused look on your face, “owe you?” 

He resists the urge to roll his eyes and instead just huffs in mild amusement, “payment, for your work.” 

Your eyes light up in understanding and you laugh, “oh, no, don’t worry about that,” you wave him off, “I’m just happy to help out.” You just smile up at him, as if you can’t see anything wrong with what you just said.  

Nikto is forced to remind himself that you’re a civilian, not another untrustworthy operator. Not everyone does things purely for the pay they’ll be rewarded with, even if the very thought of not giving you something in return makes him uncomfortable. He holds his hand out to you, “phone.”  

You blink at him for a second, but quickly do as you’re told, just like the good girl you are. He goes into your contacts and adds his number and details, hitting save the moment he’s done. He doesn’t bother adding a picture, passing your phone back to you, “call us when you require assistance.” He waits until you offer him a nod before he steps back from the side of the car.  

You have an odd, flustered look on your face for some reason, but you’re quick to snap out of whatever daze you're in and give him a quick wave as you put your truck into reverse. He watches silently as you disappear back down the driveway and into the steadily darkening evening, waiting until you’re out of sight.  

Sputnik is absolutely delighted the following morning when Nikto presents her with her blood and peanut butter ice block.

-

Translations

“да,” - “Yes” 

“Я не знал, что ты такая королева драмы,” - “I didn't know you were such a drama queen,”  

“место!” - “Stay!” 

“Спутник!” - “Sputnik!” 

“ко мне!” - “Come!”  

[dollygirl808]

Ch. 4 of A Helping Paw

Obsessive! Werewolf/Weredog 141(+extra) x Chubby! OC Freya

Masterlist

The drive into town didn't take long, and when she parked just a little ways away from the front door, she could spot the dark outline of a dog laying off in a corner, likely chewing on something. He was too far away to really get a good look at him, but she'd get to meet him soon enough.

Soap behaved well enough as she clipped his leash on, getting her things as she stepped out of the car, the brown fluffy dog following after her, nose twitching as he scented the air.

"Is that your friend?" She asked, smiling when his tail started wagging faster, likely smelling someone familiar.

The doorbell jingled as she approached, Nikolai standing just inside his shop and holding the door for her, thick, hairy arms on display as he wore just a dark t-shirt that clung to his form, his soft stomach and pronounced pecs.

"Come in," He ushered, hand low against her back as he guided her past him into the shop, the bell chiming as it closed. She let go of Soap's leash, and he wasted no time racing over to the pretty, black gray and brown dog laying in the corner, barreling into him and making him yelp in surprise.

"Soap, be gentle!" Freya chastised, although it was no use right now.

Gaz, an absolutely stunning black gray and brown dog that sort of resembled a doberman to her, didn't seem to mind the roughhousing much, rolling over onto his feet and popping up on his paws in a play bow, the bone forgotten.

The two hopped back and forth for a second, then Soap enticed a game of play by dashing away, headed directly for her.

"Ah- no!" She yelled when Soap bumped into her leg, then Gaz ran underfoot just a few seconds later. Luckily, Nikolai caught her as they circled around the pair then ran back to the other side of the shop, Gaz tackling the fluffier dog where they then engaged in a fun game of bitey face on the floor, sharp canines on display as they rumbled and huffed at each other playfully.

"Thanks," She said, looking up into Nikolai's eyes as he looked down at her, thick fingers splayed over her waist.

"Of course, detka," He told her smoothly, lifting her back up to stand up straight. How embarrassing! Knocked over by a dog into the Russians thick, strong arms. If she didn't know any better she'd almost think that the dogs did it on purpose. When she realized she was still holding onto his plush bicep, she hastily let go and took a half-step out of his personal space, face feeling heated.

They both stood there for a moment, watching the two dogs play together. They're both very happy to be reunited, even though it's only presumably been a few days.

Soap play growled at the other dog, nipping at his triangular cropped ear, hopping over him from one side to the other, and Gaz opened his muzzle, chasing him with his teeth. Before he can get in a nip, Soap runs away and he gives chase.

The two zip around the open floor space, staying in the front area of the shop. At one point, Soap attempted to barrel into him again, but Gaz darted out of the way and the brown dog ran face-first into a shelf instead, knocking a heavy looking metal pan off, and getting hit in the head with it.

Nikolai clicked his tongue to his teeth and sighed out, shaking his head. "All brawn and no brains, that one," He told her.

Soap let out a small yelp and pinned his ears, nails skittering across the tile floor as he ran away from the shelf and back to her, nearly knocking her over with how he bullied his way between her thighs.

Gaz did a thorough shake off on the other side of the shop before padding his way over to the three just as Nikolai headed to pick the pan pack up.

"D'aww, poor baby, did you get bonked good?" Freya cooed out in a slightly teasing tone, scritching his flank.

In response, Soap whined in a drawn out, complaining 'aarrraruu!' At her backside, long muzzle tilted upwards against her ass. She chuckled, giving his fluffy butt a little dad pat before walking forward so he was no longer between her legs.

"He will live, I'm sure," Nikolai mused, watching from next to the shelf.

Gaz took this time to properly introduce himself, pushing into her space, chest and neck pressed against her thigh as he looked up at her, beautiful hazel brown eyes staring into her soul.

She scritched between his ears, "Why hello handsome, aren't you a pretty boy?"

Suddenly, Soap gave the other dog a not-so friendly growl, body language tense and mouth closed. She retracted her hand, taking a sideways step away from both dogs.

Gaz mimicked the other, posturing with his chest out and tail high, a deeper growl ruminating in his throat. The two had a tense stare down until Nikolai spoke up, accent thick with his annoyance as he called out, "Boys!" That made Soap finally give in, pinning his ears and ducking his head with a low whine, looking down as he flicked his tongue in an appeasing gesture.

Proudly, the beauceron trotted over to her, tail giving big, sweeping happy wags side to side as he pressed close for pets. Apprehensively, she scratched under his chin while throwing sideways glances at the shepherd who just sat off to the side, watching with big, begging puppy eyes.

"Sorry about them. Soap gets jealous easily and forgets that he is under Gaz in the pack, even if only by a little."

Freya nodded, still petting Gaz as she looked up at him. She isn't entirely sure what he meant by the pack, but he knew these dogs for longer than her, so surely he must know what he's talking about.

"If you agree to watch them both, they'll behave better, promise." He said suddenly, walking closer with cash folded between his fingers as he held it out.

"Oh, no- I couldn't," She shook her head, intending to push his offering hand away, but he just pushed it further into her palm.

"John insists. It was payment for the sitter, and they've now bailed, and you're watching Soap already. If you don't want to take Gaz too, you can take half and I will watch him." Gaz whined at that, like he knew he was about to be left behind by the pretty lady that scratched just right against his skin with her nails, and poked her in the stomach with his nose.

"I- " She looked down at the pup licking at her wrist, pretty hazel brown eyes flicking back and forth between her and Nikolai standing over him, "Ok, I'll watch Gaz too. And accept the money, even though I don't need it." She conceded not too long after, taking the cash from his hand and quickly tucking it away in her wallet.

Gaz let out a happy yip, play bowing at her before turning and initiating a much lower energy, friendly play fight with Soap, who happily engaged with the other.

"I will put his food in your trunk, watch them for me, detka?" He told her, even though it was posed as a question as he quickly disappointed behind a doorway, only to quickly re-appear and walk out the door, heavy red cooler held in one hand.

She watched from behind the glass door as he loaded the cooler into her trunk, and the dogs danced around her, actually being careful to not knock her over now, only bumping her with their tails occasionally.

After he came back inside, Freya called the dogs to her and leashed up Soap, then stood up and looked down at Gaz, not sure what to do.

"Well.. I have to go get another set of bowls anyways, so I guess I'll leave one of you in the car while I buy another leash," She told the dogs, mostly just speaking her thoughts out loud.

"Ah, don't be silly kukolka, here," Nikolai walked around the counter and grabbed something from underneath, and held out a nice, brown and gray biothane leash with a gold clasp, "For Gaz," He told her, and she took the leash. He then bent down and picked up two stainless steel bowls, setting them on the counter.

"Those are his as well. Take them for now," he told her, nudging them closer to the edge. She nodded, and hooked Gaz's leash to him before grabbing their bowls.

"Ok, well I guess I'll see you in a few days. By Nikolai!" He held the door for her, and the two dogs walked outside first as she followed, waving bye to him as the bell chimed a second time when it closed.

They both hopped into the passenger seat, Gaz sitting half on top of Soap and half on the seat as the brown dog lay partially in her lap. Gaz seemed really interested in the view outside the window as they drove back to her house, so she rolled it down and let him stick his head out. He really enjoyed it, as evident by his black-spotted tongue lolling out to the side.

By the time they got back, it was 2pm and her car, and her boyfriend by association, were finally back, parked somewhat hastily in the gravel parking space despite not having anything to rush to.

After pulling up to the side of her car farthest from the house, she tied both dogs to the passenger seat headrest so they couldn't escape and possibly maul Jake, then left the car running as she stepped out and locked it.

She forgot to ask how Gaz was with men and strangers.. she'll have to call Nikolai back and ask.

"Hey babe," Freya smiled at the man as he got out of her silver car. He only frowned at her, crossing his arms.

"I've been waiting in the car for the past thirty minutes," Jake told her in a condescending tone, staring down his nose at her despite only being a few inches taller than her.

"Well, if you had been here at 10 like you said, you wouldn't have had to wait," She told him, barely restraining herself from rolling her eyes.

"Well, I overslept!" He huffed, getting unusually defensive.

"Do you expect me to wait for you all day? I had things to do," She told him, motioning to her car where both dogs were staring intently at them, "If you had bothered to check your phone you would have seen that I found a dog and he'll be staying with us until we leave."

The man looked over at the dogs, one of them already mean-mugging him through the windows of both cars, and the other just tilting his head as he watched them curiously.

"That's two dogs," Jake pointed out unhelpfully, narrowing his eyes at her.

"Yes... congratulations you can count," Freya deadpanned, putting her hand on her hip and cocking it to the side.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, throwing his hands up as he went to storm off. "Wait! Wait, I'm sorry. I just got annoyed with you for being late. Will you get the cooler in the trunk and put it in the big box freezer for me?" She asked with a sigh, motioning to the car.

"Yeah, sure," He agreed, not particularly happy but still doing it. As he got closer to the red truck, Soap started barking at him, brown paws up on the center console as he growled, making Jake hesitate for more than just a few moments at the truck bed covering before rolling it back and picking up the cooler.

While he was putting that away, she got the two out of her dad's car and let them sniff and smell her boyfriend's scent by her car. Gaz stuck his nose to the gravel driveway, and Soap peed on the front tire.

Just as he was coming back outside, Soap found something interesting and hot pink stuck in the driver's side door and began tugging at it with his front teeth. Gaz became curious and started sniffing at the thin lacy fabric as well.

"What the fuck?" She spat out indignantly, snatching up the fabric from the door, only tearing them a little as she held them up to the sun.

Jake's face went white as he saw what she was holding, a hot pink, lacey pair of crotchless panties that clearly didn't belong to his girlfriend, considering they were way too small to fit over her ass or even on her thighs. "I-I can explain!" He stuttered out quickly, stumbling down the stairs in his rush to get to her.

Freya threw the offending fabric down on the gravel, and before it hit the ground Gaz snapped it up in his maw and gave it an aggressive shake, whipping it back and forth. Soap sank his fangs into the panties as well, snarling as they quickly ripped it into lacy pieces.

"Babe, wait, look- she was flirting with me, like she was a total whore and-"

"And- and- do you ever shut up?" She snapped, mocking him, "And if she was a whore what does that make you, hm? Just get the fuck out of my face. I'm breaking up with you." She sighed, her anger dissipating almost immediately as she realized.. she really wasn't in love with him. And this vacation had really proved to her what kind of person he was.

"Babe please, we can still make this work, yeah? Where- where would I even go?" He asked in a pathetic voice.

"Just- take my car and get a hotel for all I care. Or drive back to our apartment. I don't care, but you can't stay here. Go pack your stuff, Jake."

Thankfully, the man conceded without much more fanfare, solemnly packing up all his clothes and hauling his suitcase to her silver car. The three of them watched as he drove away, the only evidence of his cheating laying in tatters in the gravel.

Freya didn't even cry as she picked up the hot pink scraps, only throwing them away in the trash with a heavy sigh. Soap and Gaz hovered around her the entire time as she absent-mindedly cut up their lunch and served it to them, curling up on the couch with a bowl of cereal when she was done.

(Break)

Gaz approached her slowly, still licking the up juices from his maw as he stepped forward. He stared at her with his pretty hazel eyes as he set his head on the edge of the couch, tail giving full, slow wags side to side.

"Hi pretty boy," She reached out from her spot lying on her side, petting between his ears, "Do you wanna join me on the couch?"

Carefully, he climbed onto the couch next to her and curled up, just barely fitting all of him onto the space left between her torso and the edge of the couch, brown paws tucked between his body and her soft tummy. His gray-tipped black tail thumped calmly against the couch cushion next to them

"Your fur pattern is beautiful," She thought aloud, smoothing her palm over his side, and the pretty mix of black and gray, the short coat like pebbled stone against a black silky void. He had two brown dotted rottweiler eyebrows and the upper half of his top jaw and his wet nose are black, but the lower half of his top jaw, along with his bottom jaw is brown, outlined by black down the side of his neck.

Her fingers brushed over his ear, causing it to flick. The inside is completely brown while the edge and outside is black. There are a couple of gray spots above his left eyebrow, but other than that his forehead is mostly black.

Soap whined, fluffy ears lowered slightly as he begged to be let up on the couch too, with his striking blue eyes.

"Ok, c'mere you big baby," She called, patting the cushion next to her legs.

He hopped up, letting out a happy little vocalization as he did so, turning in tight circles between the back of the couch and her bent calves before settling with his chin resting over her plush hip. The slightly smaller dog let out a long, exasperated sigh from his nose as if the other's presence was a massive inconvenience for him, but settled his head over the armrest nonetheless, like he was settling in for a nap.

Soap huffed, tucking his front paws tighter against the back of her thighs as his eyes closed. Apparently, she was now having dog-mandated group cuddles and nap time.

---

Taglist: @cringeycookies @sleepydang

[hibiscuswrites]

Do you write for COD MW2?? If you do, could I have Ghost, Alejandro, Rudy, and Price reaction to coming home to their women after a tough mission with a lot of close calls?? Thanks!

I do! ���� I haven’t yet but I’d like to try my hand at them so I’ve added them to my list. I’ve written a few things for practice but I haven’t posted them. Admittedly, I don’t feel like I write Soap very well 🥴 but I’ll keep trying. Hope you like it 💕

Edit: just realized I’m illiterate and put soap instead of price so I added him in at the end 🙈 sorry about that

You can see his shoulders drop in relief as soon as he lays eyes on you

Happy to be home

Happy to be safe

Happy to be back with you

There were a few times he was worried he wouldn’t make it back to you and not that he finally has, he can’t let you go

His embrace is gentle yet secure as he clings to you

“Missed you so much, mi vida.”

He clings to you for days once he’s back

Definitely makes you breakfast in bed with fresh fruits and whipped cream smiley faces on your pancakes

He’ll sit with you on the couch and watch whatever your heart desires

He makes love to you gently

All soft kisses and hand holding

Enjoys for you to ride him and lets you take whatever you need from him

He’s more than happy to lay there and look up at you looking like a goddess as you bounce and grind

Nearly knocks you over with the force of his embrace when he finally gets his hands on you

One too many close calls where he wondered if gazing at the picture of you in his best would be the last time he ever saw you

He’s handsy

Paws gripping at your ass and thighs as he spins around with you

“There she is, my pretty girl.”

Probably trips with you

He doesn’t mean to be rough with you, he just can’t help it that he’s clumsy in his excitement

He goes down on you every chance he gets on nearly every surface in the house

On the sofa

In the shower

With you bent over the kitchen counter

He’s a munch through and through

And stays by your side like a puppy, simply happy to be back with his favorite girl

His embrace feels like it could pop your eyes clean out of your head

It’s tight and desperate almost

One bulky arm wrapped around your waist, the other cradling the back of your head, holding your face into his chest

Before he had you, it didn’t matter all that much if he didn’t make it home

But now that you’re his, he knows he needs to make it back in one piece

He needs to be there to protect you

To look after you

To make sure you eat and drink enough water

He holds you tightly as if you might slip away if he’s not careful

Eyes fluttering closed as you lean forward and press a soft kiss to the bridge if his nose

He allows himself to enjoy your affection and tenderness, whether he believes he deserves it or not

Loves soaking in a hot bath with you, feeling your back against his chest as he just enjoys the safe silence

Just don’t tell any one

He also will go down on you until you cry, hands pushing away at his head and shoulders

Whining that you can’t take any more

But he’s not interested in hearing that

“Sure you can, love. You wouldn’t deny me this perfect pretty pussy now, would ya?”

He devours you as soon as he has you in his arms

His mouth and hands touching everywhere he can get to

He’s barely got the door locked behind him before he’s stripping you

Leaving soft bites and hickies trailed along your body

He knows things could’ve easily gone south and he would’ve never seen you again

And that’s a thought he simply cannot bear

He’s got you in a mating press on the living room floor before you know it

Eyes fixated on your face as you whimper and pant, full to the brim with him

He commits every expression and noise to memory

“Missed me like crazy, huh chulita? My poor baby was so lonely without me.”

He ignores the rug burn in his knees, the very least of his worries

But he’s tender and caring with you afterwards, cleaning you up and cooking you your favorite meal

Planning date nights

Taking you out dancing

Enjoying as much of you as he possibly can before he has to leave again

He encases you tightly

Breathing in your scent

Committing it to memory

He’s missed you like crazy

Gazed at that crumpled picture of you in his pocket just in case it’s the last time

And now that he’s home he just can’t take his eyes or hands off of you

He wants to shower, get the grime off before he taints you

And he brings you with him

Making sure he’s clean before he has you pressed against the shower wall

Showing you how much he’s missed his girl

“Can’t get enough of you, I swear. You’ve ruined me.”

Romance for days once he’s back home

Flowers fresh from the florist

Little love notes scattered around the house

Anything to see you smile

General taglist

 @titty-teetee   @vibranium-soul @ateliefloresdaprimavera @glimmerglittergirl @hatterripper31 @lilac-tea-time @krysiewithak

[ghostsforghosts]

Have Dinner With Me?

This is the third part of the COD AU: Beauty & the Beast, the first and second parts can be found here. Reminder, this Reader is male.

Since you were prone to eating later than most people, you didn't often eat dinner with everyone else in the castle. You'd sometimes eat with your father, if he had been too busy checking out one of the other people in the castle to eat dinner with the rest.

You didn't mind though, you quite liked the solitude most of the time. Though sometimes, you wished one of the others would come and join you without you having to ask.

Thus, you were surprised to say the least when you walked into the kitchen for your late dinner, only to see Ghost cooking away despite him usually cooking for everyone two hours prior.

"Oh, I'm sorry," you said automatically, moving backwards as if to leave. "I thought no one would be here."

Ghost looked up, his brown eyes so soft beneath that wolf mask that you were sure if the mask wasn't there, then you'd see him smiling at you. "No, it's okay. I'm cooking this meal for us."

You were confused at that, tilting your head at his words. "Us?" you asked.

"Us," Ghost repeated, continuing to cook. He let out the smallest chuckle when you continued to look at him in confusion. "I've noticed that you eat later than everyone else, and usually alone. And I too eat later than everyone else, so I thought we could eat together. If you'll have me, that is."

"Yes," you replied instantly, barely waiting for him to finish speaking his last sentence. You grew flustered at your own eagerness, ducking your head down instinctively to hide any sign of embarrassment. You cleared your throat before adding, "I'd be most grateful to share a meal with you. Though, perhaps, may I help you with cooking? I'd feel guilty if I were to let you do all the work."

Ghost nodded and gestured for you to come forward, telling you what you could do to help. With your help, soon food was on the dining table and you two sat at the large dining table.

Since it was only the two of you, Ghost didn't sit at the head of the table and instead he sat side by side with you. Every brush of his shoulder against yours sent shivers down your spine, but you managed to remain cool-headed even with the touches.

You ate a bite of turkey, humming in approval at the taste. "This tastes delicious," you said, licking your lips clean after you swallowed your bite. "Thank you for this."

"You say "thank you" a lot," Ghost replied, gently teasing you. He seemed to move as if to touch you, but then he pulled back, keeping his hands to himself. "You helped me cook, remember? You're part of the reason it tastes good."

You grew flustered and simply smiled at him. Silence enveloped you two and after a while of eating, you realized that Ghost was struggling to use the utensils with his big paws.

"You don't have to eat with utensils if you don't want to, you know." You gestured to his obvious struggling, reassuring him that it was okay. Still, you gave him a warm smile to assuage any embarrassment. "I won't judge you for not using utensils. I understand that it's probably hard for you to do so with your paws."

Ghost relaxed at that, setting down the utensils. "Thank you," he murmured simply picking up the food with his paws now. "Various others have tried to help me hold the utensils in my paws, but that's just not the way my paws work."

You nodded in understanding, not even batting an eye at the sigh of him eating with his paws. You looked down at the food on your plate and decided you'd also forgo the utensils, just to reaffirm to Ghost that you really didn't care about him not using utensils.

Ghost was shocked at your kindness, no one ever joining him to eat the same way he was eating. Even if people let him eat with his paws and not with the utensils, they usually opted to eat with the utensils. But here you were, doing something so simple so he wouldn't think feel alone or left out just because he couldn't eat with utensils.

The two of you ate in silence once more, Ghost seeming happier now that he could be his true self around you. It made you smile, seeing how relaxed he was.

He deserved to be relaxed, you thought to yourself as you finished your food. You'd strive to make me relax more often.

After dinner, you went to the kitchen to help Ghost wash the dishes, but he shooed you away after you washed your hands.

"No, no," he said with a deep rumble in his chest, which was a rumble of amusement. His brown eyes had a twinkle in them, drawing you in. "You've helped enough. It's time for you to relax. Go, I've got the dishes."

You tried to protest, but he wasn't having it. Soon, you caved in and with one last look at Ghost, you left. There was a skip in your step, happy to have had a nice dinner with the man.

Ghost waited until he was sure you were gone to let out a sigh that was full of longing as he washed the dishes.

He was so deep already, but surely you didn't feel the same way.

Banners made by @cafekitsune & separator made by @une-femme-de-lettres

[hybbart]

What are magical Lizzie and magical jimmy’s powers and do their powers change with their outfits? What are the microphones for?

what do they fight or work towards in the au?

Well, it's funny that someone mentioned hirogaru precure in the notes first of all because the hirogaru transformation is the one I use in my head for theirs.

Anyways way too much info below

The Enchanter Wands are their transformation and final attack items, its day to day form is a pen probably. (This is where I show I thought too much about this) the paw on the front has three toe bean buttons and those control which mode they transform into and then press the heart in the centre while saying which mode into tbe microphone. The little coloured lights along it light up one by one during this cause all the best transformation toys do. And of course, the ribbon is moulded plastic like the rest of it. I'm awful at designing wands and toys alike but I think I did a good job of making something that meets the typical standards for the transformation trinket while making it stick out just enough to seem like it was designed first.

Anyways they're music themed! Just like my old art. They're Magical Enchanter Jimmy and Magical Enchanter Lizzie, because they're semi-idol magical girls so they sing, but I went with chanter because chanter is also french and it's not magical girls without random french. And enchanter makes it magical and a reference to minecraft. Magical is redundant but it rolls off the tongue. Also the abbreviation would be Macha rather than Maen or Maencha, just cause its cuter and be a similar pun to Precure.

Their transformation modes are as followed:

Cod Cajun and Axolotl Shanty. Aka their aqua forms they can breathe water and swim with these forms and their attacks are nature and water themed and magic oriented. They also let them create objects.

Cow Folk and Cat Carol. Aka their land forms, these ones have super strength more than the others and are defence oriented. They use fire and earth themed attacks. They also can make shields.

Canary Blues and Butterfly Ballad. Aka their sky forms. They can fly and have superspeed with theae forms. They're fragile but powerful. They use wind and light themed attacks. They also let them use disguises.

All the forms have about average strength, speed, jumping ability, and fighting ability like your typical combat magical girl, and they can also talk to animals. Jimmy also has super hearing while Lizzie's voice can travel long distances.

They're regular siblings who just love karaoke until their singing attracts the very distressed faeries, Norman and Joel, to them. They need help defeating The Silencer (Martyn) who attacked the Harmony Kingdom and stole the citizens' ability to connect. The seablings are heavily music themed but the overall theme is the arts and communication.

His henchmen are Tango, Cleo, and Shubble, all former citizens of the Harmony Kingdom brainwashed through their individual difficulties communicating. The daily baddies are manifestations of people's lonelines. The Harmony King is also Ren, who's been put into a great depressive slumber on his throne. Oli and Joe are also there somewhere too, but no one knows what's up with them.

Later they're joined by Katherine, the princess of the Harmony Kingdom who has a sewing and fashion theme who is very sociable but has a curse that turns her into the Dark Enchanter, who got brainwashed trying to save her faerie friend Shubble. And Pearl, a strange upperclassmen they meet in a gallery who has a sculpting and art theme who uses technical/scientific knowledge like redstone to enhance her art (cause the very first thing I would do if I was ever given a children's series to work onis subvert the performer-technician dichotomy trope since its my least favourite thing).

Both have their own unique trinkets of a makeup case and stamp palette, and their faeries are Shubble and Tango after they've been defeated and turned back to thwir faerie forms.

Jimmy and Lizzie's story is largely about them drifting apart after their parents divorce and they grew up going to separate schools, and reconnecting with one another through their shared love of singing and cute animals.

I think they would also all join theatre club together, as a way for them all to show off their talents. Lizzie is already part of her music club at the start but wants to switch to theatre because it better suits her passions (but isn't as respectable), and Jimmy is a bit more aimless, constantly getting in trouble and being bullied, and joins to make friends. Katherine and Pearl later join also in as the costuming and set design department. The teachers are oddly familiar...

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

banner by @/cafekitsune

Pairing: John Price x fem!OC (Rory Sinclair)

Word count: 1.5 K

Warnings/Tags: MINORS DNI, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, established relationship, monster hybrid au, ABO dynamics (sort of), werewolf female in heat, John Price has a breeding kink

A/N: inspired by @/bluegiragi's cod monster hybrid au. Dragon!Price makes my brain fuzzy

Title based off this song

The warm, caramelized vanilla scent of toasted marshmallows invades his nostrils, smothering him in the sticky sweetness of his lover's heat. Left to crave it with the insatiable hunger of an insect led to the honeyed nectar of a pitcher plant. Used for her needs, required to fulfill a biological demand.They might have been different species, but this dragon was no fool, he'd be damned if he wasn't driven the tiniest bit mad by his little wolf spread out on their bed, surrounded by pillows and blankets in her own hand-built nest fluffed and shaped on her own accord all so she could be taken by her mate in a time-honored tradition. 

Breeding.

He could appreciate the effort she put in, but even more so it was the sight of her presenting herself like a good little pup. Her round, firm ass held high in the air, hips flaring as she arches her back on her hands and knees, wiggling her delicious curves at him – as if she really needed to tease to get him to join her. His fangs were already dug deep into his lower lip, his claws piercing into the palms of his fists, carving crescents into his rough, meaty paws, struggling to resist the temptation served up to him. 

Fuck, she’s so willing and eager. 

“Christ, Ror, look at you,” he growls, sweat beading on his brow as if the fires that burned in his belly were raging out of control. She was the catalyst that could spark an inferno.

Whining, she keens against the mattress, grinding her slick cunt along the bed, desperate for the friction. She's soaked, drenched and dripping, and the sight of the thin, pearlescent filaments of her slick drooling from her cunt and connecting her to the bedding make his heart race. Her heats always turn her into a feral thing, desperate for him, for his cock. A wanton creature of base, animalistic desires that ache to be sated.

“Please, John,” she mewls, her arms and legs shaking, her breaths a heavy pant as her skin glows with a sheen of perspiration that beads from her pores and fills the room with the cloying scent of her need. 

“Tha’s right, darlin’. I’m here, just relax. Lemme take care o’ you, sweetheart.”

Her arousal is a palpable thing, he can taste it in the air. It clings to his taste buds like thick cream and he can't help but groan, his eyes rolling back in his head as if the scent itself can rewire his own instincts and flick the switch that begs to plant his seed inside her, giving her exactly what her every nerve and muscle is crying out for, to be freed from the burden of an empty womb. The dragon inside him begs to claim her, to mark her as his, a wonderful addition to his hoard. This pretty little lupine who has him wrapped around her little finger is the jewel of his crown.

Swallowing thickly, he rubs his hand down his mouth, steadying himself, regaining control. The last thing he needs is to let the dragon loose and harm her. Never her. Though this side of Rory tends to like things rougher, she’s wild, more intense, he still has to reel himself in. Her skin is so soft, tender, supple. The wrong move of his claws could tear her apart. She’s so small, a delicate little thing and she trusts him. He’s her mate, her protector, and it stirs every instinct in him to hold her close and never let her go, to never let anyone else touch her or come near. The greedy, territorial dragon that curls around her, huffing out smoke in warning at any who might dare trespass upon his domain. She was his to guard.

Climbing onto the bed, the mattress creaks and groans under his weight, and he can feel the heat radiate from her body, her skin burning with a fever that can’t be starved, it must be fed, if only to relieve the pain she suffers. God, he hates how her own body betrays her like this, how wet she is yet, at the same time, she wants to curl up into a ball as she grabs at the bedding, twisting it in her fists as she trembles beneath him, panting and moaning, gritting her teeth as she waits for the sweet release of his cock inside her. 

He’s barely saddled up behind her before she’s grinding against him, scenting him with her sweet little pussy. The perfume of her need wafts around him in a heady aroma that he sinks into, pleased as punch to take up the mantle of her partner. The intoxicating thought that wolves mated for life twisting through the folds of his reptile cerebellum like vines. He’s lost in her already and he’s not even inside her yet.

Stilling himself, steeling his resolve to keep himself from coming instantly, he grips her hips and rubs his thumbs into the flesh tenderly. He knows her body, intimately, both as a lover and as her captain, and it's a thrilling notion that never fails to stroke all the right parts of his brain. He pumps himself in his hand, once, twice, feeling the thick girth start to throb in his fist and he can’t hold back any longer. Dipping into her slick, he teases her entrance with the head, making her claws dig into the mattress, kneading it like a kitten as she mewls and growls at the back of her throat. 

Tail swishing back and forth behind him, it thumps cartoonishly as if it has a mind of its own. The constant drumming of it against the bed like a metronome of his passion, keeping time with his racing heart and his pistoning hips as he takes her deep.

“There she is,” he purrs, slipping into her with ease.

His arm coils around her, holding her soft body against the hard planes of his form, fur brushes against scales in a feather-light kiss. A clawed digit finds its way to her folds, and her clit is already stiff, pulsing as the blood flows to her puffy, plush pussy. Rubbing it in slow, gentle circles, he coaxes out a ragged cry from her lips.

Melting forward into the mattress, her eyes flutter shut as she moans long and low, the sound of perfect pleasure. There’s no resistance from her, no playful push back, she gives into his touch in totality. “Fuck, John… just like that, love,” she breathes, her head hanging and she loosens underneath him like an unraveling knot. 

He smirks, pride filling his barrel chest, eyes crinkling at the corners, dimples creasing his cheeks. He’s on top of the world right now and it only gets better as she bucks her hips back against him, driving him into her right to the hilt, building towards that sweet release they are both racing to.

This is it. There’s nowhere else he’d rather be. 

The head of his cock brushes against her cervix and she howls, her velvet walls clenching tight around him. It's enough to flood his mind with images of her belly made round and full with their pups, her pretty little tits swollen with milk. He can’t stop the guttural groan that builds from deep in his chest. 

She’s too much, too fucking perfect. She had him from the first moment he caught her scent and she smiled at him. 

When she moans out the word “Alpha”, his breath hitches. She's never used the term before and it sends him reeling, his head spins. It makes him feel like a king, a God, and his dragon side roars at the idea. Ownership. A claim. Her Alpha. His Omega. The beginning and the end. A pair bound to each other, their very natures interlinked. Two halves made a whole, and bringing forth new life. 

The heat boils in his gut, twirling bands of steam rising and warming the blood in his very veins. He tries to stop himself, biting his lip, roaming his hands down the tense muscles in her back, groping the soft swells of her breasts and rolling her nipples, his fingers following the trails of sweat that bead down the curves of her body.

“Christ, love, I’m so fucking close.”

“Please, John… Please…” 

The whimpers, the pleading with him to give her what she needs is enough to crack any strength he had left to last wide open. His wings flutter as a shiver runs down his spine and he plants himself to the root, her creamy slick coating him as his seed fills her. Springtime in a garden that he wants to watch grow. 

Their thighs are wet, muscles quivering, limbs trembling as he wraps his arms around her, nuzzling into her neck, breathing her in deep. She smells like heaven and a low rumbling sound of contentment vibrates through the both of them. He trails kisses down her neck, his lips wrapping around the old mark on her neck, the scars left behind from where his teeth had sunk into flesh, and he sucks softly as a reminder of who this little wolf was tied to, remaining connected until it finally takes.

NSFW taglist (no pressure to read of course): @roofgeese @efingart @josephseedismyfather @g0dspeeed @cloudofbutterflies92

@imogenkol @inafieldofdaisies @spookyrares @evvie-a @an-drawer

@clicheantagonist @rc-dragons @la-grosse-patate @direwombat @statichvm

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