#cod hybrid

[ask-sgtfluffy]

Nico had moved his face to be smushed in Pines chest, mumbling something that sounded relatively close to a ‘love you.’

*Pine sighs as he stomps through the halls, upset. The recruits were being annoying, everything was loud, all he wanted to do was find his husband and lay down and talk about how he felt…in his thoughts, he bumps into soneone* “Shit, sorry..” *He mumbles*

Nico glanced down to whoever bumped into his chest. Tilting his head at the sight of Pine, who was clearly distracted. So much so, he hadn’t even realized who the hell he bumped into.

“Y’alright?” His face was slightly concerned, though still holding its stern look. More than likely due to the recruits that had been staring for longer than needed.

[priceoftheduchess]

BRING JAGUAR!GHOST BACK PLEASE HE IS LIKE MY CRACK

little bit of jaguar!ghost x fem rabbit!reader to soothe your withdrawals <3 (short story!)

a bit smutty? hehe sorry…

Simon’s tail whipped sharply behind him as he sat, a methodical thump persistent against the fresh leather. His stare was penetrating, a hole burning through your abdomen — but you somehow didn’t notice.

Well, it wasn’t a secret why you didn’t notice. You were tipsy, on top of already being naturally ditzy, and just swaying to the thumping beat in the club.

The club being the new Hybrid Friendly! club in town. “Club de Primal” written in neon cursive lettering on the front of the building, fancy neon decorations and a ridiculously stocked bar. Any alcohol, you name it. And you probably did, by the way you were drunkenly swaying to the beat.

Captain ‘Bear’ Price sat in the booth, nursing a whiskey and eyeing any suspicious patrons, like the true father he is. Sergeant ‘Wolf’ MacTavish dancing it up on the floor, accidentally whacking innocent bystanders with his wiry tail. Sergeant ‘Crow’ Garrick dancing sensually with some cat hybrid (not historically a great mix, but alright), and Lieutenant ‘Jaguar’ Riley — eyeing you down. A sweet little rabbit thing with shining eyes and an unstoppable little tail.

Eventually, Simon was sick of it. He got up, against his better judgement, and stalked over to you. You were swaying on your feet, singing along to the EDM (somehow? how do you sing to that?). You looked up at Simon when you felt his chest pressed against your entire side, eyes wide. Like a little doe in headlights.

Your ears drooped behind your head, twitching at the new wall against your side.

“C’mon,” Simon grumbles out, holding out a hand for yours. You take a moment to observe him first; his yellow eyes, the soft jaguar pattern adorning his skin and those teeth. You think of kissing him and you nearly piss yourself, because how do you kiss someone with those teeth without losing your tongue?!

But, you grab his hand anyway and he leads you to an open spot on the dance floor. The song changes to something a bit slower and his hands find your front, sprawled over your stomach and the front of your thigh. He feels your happily thumping tail against his thigh and he swears he’s died and gone to Heaven.

“Sweet little thing,” he whispers in your ear, and your breath picks up. He sounds like he wants to eat you whole, and why is it kind of hot? One hand finds your jaw, and one finds the hem of your dress. He leans down to press a kiss to your lips, and you turn around.

All your senses are him. It’s no longer flashing lights, it’s his silhouette. No longer thumping music, but the thumping of his heartbeat. No longer the condensation of your cocktail, but his fitting t-shirt gripped into your palms. No longer a fruity rum, but his tongue pressing down on yours — the taste of whiskey and a past cigarette cutting through your tastebuds. No longer the smell of spilt alcohol and sweaty bodies, but a cologne with hits of bourbon and sandalwood. Fuck, he’s hot.

Somehow, he crowds you into a janitor’s closet by the bathrooms, dressed hiked up to your waist. He’s pawing at your thighs and devouring your mouth with his, his breaths rough and heavy.

He pulls away, and he nearly melts at the sight of you. Flushed face, drool peaking from the corner of your mouth and your blown pupils. You’re so sweet looking.

But he must calm down.

“Mm, come home with me,” he begs, trying to fix your dress and get you back on your feet. Your womanhood tells you to be cautious, to take a second and sober up. But the way he empties his pockets, his wallet and even shows you his keys lessen your anxieties. He’s truly just begging to sleep with you.

“Hm, why not?” You play it off, still gripping at his shirt. He chuckles roughly because he knows a sweet thing like you is only playing that game temporarily. You’ll come apart on his tongue, and gaze up at him with fucked-out eyes before you drift off into sleep.

He kisses your temple and leads you out of the club, helping you into his car and reveling in the fact that you even came home with him. He knows that eventually you’ll actually get to know him one day and then he might not have you forever, but he’ll take tonight by the collar if it’s all he’ll get.

[doctor-dove]

(sorry my tumblr is tweaking so i just had to take a screenshot 🤧 ALSO I LOVE THEIR SHIP ITS LOWK SOOOO CUTE)

@ask-declanwilsons

She was pouring over documents when she heard the knock at her door, thankful for the interruption — whatever it may be. She put her paperwork away for the night — choosing sanity over deadlines — and sighed, stretching her arms and her wings before standing and making her way to the door.

She opened it softly, expecting Price with a new stack of more paperwork to do or something of that effect, but no.

It was Declan.

Something in her body eased itself, tension built up from hours of endless scribbling melting like a popsicle on a hot sidewalk. She rocked on her feet, considering going in for a hug. No. She wouldn’t.

Would she?

“Hi,” she finally breathed out, smiling softly.

[queenoflaflames]

Loving hearts

Chapter 2 - meeting new hearts

Sorry! This room me a while I feel like 😅. But this is ch.2 of loving hearts fully completed! I hope you all enjoy this series!

As you sit there in your wheelchair fiddling with the strings hanging from your hoodie, you glance up at lasswell. She knocks. You hold your breath. Anxiety creeps up on you. You’re used to the stiff feeling creeping up on the back of your neck and making your heartbeat a million miles per hour. You could say it's a natural instinct of being human. You could say it's one of those “fight or flight” instincts that you hear about so much.

Whatever the feeling came from, you always got it when being around any”one��... “its a human thing, you humans are so fucking sensitive, like lil pups or cubs.” you’ve heard so much over the last couple years since being put in this hell damned system with these god forsaken families. Most mentally abusive to you. It was racism towards humans.

You look over at the now open door....that has a werewolf and wraith standing there. Both men are gigantic. Like if this was human comparison...their adults and you would be a three year old to a five year old height. You look like a fucking ragdoll or stuffed doll compared to them. Hybrids tend to be smaller than monsters. Hybrids are like lasswell. Comment height is a little over average of an adult male human.

The werewolf man has a Mohawk that is not what you would call a mess....but it's not neat either. Like most werewolves, his hair is wild.. the wraith next to him is bigger. And..has a ...darker, more taught body. The werewolf only goes up to the wraith's chest.

Lasswell looks right at them, and starts to speak. “Hello Simon, johnny. It's nice to see you two again!. I'm sure John told you about me coming?” she says to them.. You on the other hand are staring up.

As you stare up at them you notice how the wraith seems to be watching you and lasswell, but, the werewolf he's looking at lasswell kind of like, what you can only guess, is a reminisce. Like he knows her.

The wraith huffs in acknowledgment to lasswell’s question.

“Oh good! I know he hates it when I come here unannounced.. So.. I brought the kid with me today for you guys.” she says giving him a look you can only describe as her silently telling him to ‘be nice’.

The wraith and werewolf look down at you.. Both pairs of eyes are widening. The wraiths are more subtle as they widen..but you can tell. They were surprised you’re so small. Clearly they knew lasswell was bringing a human child from the care system but they didn’t realize how small you were. You notice how the werewolves' tail slowly starts to wag..like a dog. His ears perked up more. (in comparison to them, you’re the size of one of their children as a toddler or 5 year old in their eyes.)

You try to avert your eyes from them due to trying not to be creepy, or show you’re scared.. The wraith looks at lasswell after a good minute. “You two can come inside..” he says, then looks at the werewolf. “Johnny, go get price and tell him there…and to meet us in the bloody living room.”

The werewolf, Johnny, looks away from you and at the wraith. “On it LT!” he says energetically like any werewolf as he turns and runs off to go get whoever you presume is this price/john guy. After Johnny runs off, the wraith moves back away from the doorway so you and Lasswell can come in. Lasswell walks in front of you while you wheel right in behind her. The wraith shuts the door and follows. Not taking long to get ahead of Lasswell with his long ass legs.

He leads you and Lasswell to a very nice living room that's very..modern looking. All the furniture is pretty big. The house is more spacious inside then you’d think it was. It’s not surprising due to the fact that it is owned by a hybrid/monster household.

As Lasswell sits politely on the couch, the wraith in a chair and you in your wheelchair next to Lasswell, Johnny comes waltzing in with a harpy hybrid and dragon hybrid behind him. All three sit down..looking between you and Lasswell.

[luvbabydoll]

a bunny and a wolf — simon “ghost” riley

wolf hybrid simon riley x bunny hybrid female reader

warnings: 18+ content!!! possessiveness, breeding kink, unprotected sex, primal / hunting kink?

a/n: credit to @issysh3ll for the divider (not proofread sooo be warned!!!)

a bunny and a wolf—pretty ironic, right?

the two animals were supposed to be natural enemies, the wolf hunting while the bunny tried to hide. usually, it would end the same way: the wolf would sniff out the bunny, catch it’s tail in its mouth, and, before you knew it, the bunny would become its next meal.

although that may be the way nature intended? nature most definitely doesn’t always follow its own rules. a prime example: simon “ghost” riley and his baby bunny.

and yes, simon was well aware of the rather odd dynamic, but he couldn’t help himself—he was drawn to that little creature. and, of course, simon never tried to eat his baby bunny. well… not in the way nature intended. he would eat her out until her tail would twitch repeatedly, but it never got too gory.

every week, without fail, simon found himself hunting them down—not for survival or for a meal, but rather for something much more primal and important to him. simon would stomp his way through the halls of their shared home, deliberately making the stomps of his own body louder, his breathing heavier, just to make sure his baby would tremble and shed a few tears.

and without any doubt, his bunny would wriggle beneath the sheets, hiding in their shared bed— the same bed he would worship her on.

and that’s exactly where simon found himself later today. his breath was hot against their neck as he ruthlessly moved his body against their much smaller frame. making sure they could feel the hard outline of his hard cock. a low, guttural grunt escaped him as he tugged at their bunny tail,

"fuck, you feel that, baby? feel how hard I’m getting for you? all cause of my bunny.” simon growled, his voice thick with ecstasy. his rough hands moved roughly over their body, his palms rubbing over their body, as if he’s claiming a prophecy.

"here’s what’s gonna happen bunny, im gonna pin you down, use you how i like, and your gonna enjoy every moment of it," he murmured, his tone dark with promise. "i’m gonna fill you up with my seed—make sure you’ll be filled with our pups. just the way it’s supposed to be." simon growled ruthlessly, his tongue moving to savor the taste of your own fear, kissing your body at the same time, as if he were worshipping his own god—which to simon he was.

[quarterlifekitty]

hybrid soap eating hybrid reader out until she cries?

When Soap gets into a rut, sometimes Simon has to pry him off of you. He’ll wake up to hear you crying out from the bed you share with Johnny— cause the mutt felt the urge sometime during the night, and now your pussy is slick and swollen and sensitive from his grazing teeth and unrelenting tongue. Johnny gets fuckin crated and Simon gets you a cold compress and a bath. Leads to soap knocking around in there, begging and jerking off, howling for you to come to him. Man goes through the five stages of grief. Actually, he just flickers between bargaining and anger. He’s either begging, saying he’ll do anything, or growling about how much trouble you’re gonna be in when he gets his hands on you.

[girl-lostconnection]

Eating my orange in the dark and thinking about fruit bat hybrid!Reader x hybrid!141.

When they don’t exactly realise that she is not a usual bat and still joke about vampires and drinking blood while their new addition to the team is fucking vegetarian.

Wolf!Ghost makes a joke about bloodsuckers and Reader just gives him a slow blink and says “Lieutenant, my species are frugivores” and leaves him floored because first of all, what the FUCK are frugivores???

Komodo Dragon!Price opens their file back because he thought he was sent a bat as the new underling and the file is like yeah, you got sent a bat. A FRUIT bat, you old geezer.

Harbour Seal!Soap is just astounded by how much fruit they eat (fruit bats are known to eat anywhere from 50% to 150% of their body weight in fruits) while Harpy Eagle!Gaz is thrilled to have someone who finally GETS him (harpy eagles have the largest talons of any living eagle and males have been seen to carry prey roughly half of their own body weight).

Later the pack finds out that fruit bats have not one but two breeding seasons. Reader will need to fight them off with a stick because “back up, lads, I said BACK UP”. After all they are a hybrid, not an actual fruit bat.

[uglygirltrying]

bunny!reader and hare!simon!!!

hare!simon who finds himself a cute, little bunny, and takes them for himself. bunny!reader with soft, fluffy ears, and small cotton ball tail, that twitches and flutters in excitement. bunny!reader is round and soft, the sweetest thing that her mate has ever seen. all that fluff, pressed against hare!simon's abdomen when he pounds into her, and mutters into her ear about kits... hare!simon with a dirty fur and a dirty mind, scars and thinning fur, but a passion for keeping his mates pure white fur clean hare!simon who leads his bunny to calm river, taking a dip into it with her in his lap hare!simon who sniffs his bunny's neck for that sweet aroma, nipping the skin there, while his cock slips inside her. the water around them splashes while the dirty and scarred hare dumbs his load into his bunny's cunt. bunny!reader who whines at a sudden, strange, new smell that wafts through the air. hare!simon whose ears tense up at the same time, but not at her whine, but at the sounds from the forest around them. hare!simon who immediately stands up, ushering bunny!reader out of the water and behind him. hare!simon whose chest puffs out, when fox!graves stalks towards them, out of the bushes, a mischievous smirk on the carnivores face. hare!simon who's always ready to fight, kill, and die for his mate.

[pricesprincess]

price with a puppy! girl who he can train to greet him at the door naked with a pretty pink collar and a matching leash that is ready for him to take. he loves how you pant and moan when he's fucking you doggy style. is a sucker for those puppy-dog eyes. makes sure to has a special engraved tag with his name on it.

ghost with a fawn! girl who he can chase down in the woods without a second thought and will let him pin you to the dirt and fuck you senseless because he's had a rough day. he loves to stroke your ears and tail when you cuddle up to him and will hand-feed you treats.

kyle with a bunny! girl who is so soft and adorable dressed up in those frilly outfits that make you hide your face as he dresses you before letting you hump his cock after he played with your nipples through the sheer fabric. kyle loves it when you twitch his nose which makes him chuckle and hold you closer to him.

soap with a kitty! girl who bites and scratches when you get a bit overstimulated and he loves it, will sometimes bat at you with a cat toy to make you draw your claws. will fuck you extra harder to feel your nails drag up his back leaving a mess of red lines.

comments and relogs with tags are really appreciated <3

[dmitriene]

cw: reader is a cat hybrid.

being simon's riley one and only lap cat, sweet thing with fluffy, fluttering ears and long tail that lays across his lap just as your body, slightly curled, splayed over his muscular thighs and nose burrowing in the cotton fabric of his pajama pants, enjoying the long, delicate strokes of his rough, calloused palm he brushes down your head and to the small of your back, chuckling deep and smoky at the way your spine stretches out beneath the gentle touch.

to be honest, he needed someone who would always be waiting for him at home, not only as a family member, or wife, or children, but something more affectionate, pet like, with fluffy body parts, with constantly needy behavior, curling up on his lap or chest with loud purrs and rubbing against the sloping curve of his stubbled cheekbones, nosing in the crook of his neck sweet and pliable, meowing at the tight squeeze of his pawing hands, going lax anytime he chooses to pick you up or stroke down.

simon loves how you seek him at the early morning light when he crawls out of the bed for his tea, in nothing but the pajama pants and naked chest, muscles softened, covered by the pudgy layer of little fat he accumulated by lazing out with you on the couch or the bed, a place for you to sink your clawed nails in when you follow his form out of the bedroom, curling behind his back, affectionate and clinging, the expanse of his scarred, tissued skin falling victim to your kneading fingers.

you tilt your head and crane your neck out for him when he bends to smother you in tender kisses, scratching behind your ears that flutter at the touch and elicit those adorable purrs deep from your throat, eyes barely open to look at him, enough to see how his own crinkle, pale eyelashes low over the tawny irises, the pupil shudders to dilate in response to yours, focused on with pooling, overflowing tenderness that makes simon so much softer on the usually razory edges, just for you.

simon takes care of you, your every need, especially when you start to whine about how empty and aching you are, your panties sodden, soiled by the slick that oozes and pools down onto the cotton with your need for him, to your gaping hole end up stuffed full of his cock, sheathed deep and secure along your pulsing, viscous walls, tight with warmth as you purr in against his solid chest, nuzzling over the softness of his muscles, as his hand pats across your plump ass.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[lay-z]

cotton candy clouds | 1

Synopsis: Due to his rank, status, and many combat achievements, Lieutenant Riley is assigned an emotional support hybrid by the brass; whether he likes it or not.

Pairing: handler!Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x dog!hybrid!fem!Reader

Warnings/Info: 18+ MDNI | Reader is a purebred Samoyed (dog)hybrid. Despite ears, tails, and their adapted nature/instincts/personalities, hybrids have human features. | bimbo!Reader; hypersexuality; dom/sub elements; heavy smut; tw: past (sexual) abuse/manipulation; cussing; fluff; angst; hurt/comfort; eventual romance; strangers to lovers; dub-con elements (Some warnings only apply to future parts!)

☁ ccc; masterlist

Simon remembers telling Price to ‘piss off with that shite’ when the latter had approached him with the brass’ announcement of granting the Lieutenant the rare permission to become the handler of an emotional support hybrid.

There aren’t many officers on base who are allowed to have one, and Simon knows why that is. In his opinion, the whole handler/hybrid deal has all the negative connotations of a toxic and borderline abusive relationship, and Simon simply doesn’t want to be part of that.

Did anyone of those fuckers ever bother to read his file? He bloody well doubts it.

He does respect the official handlers and trainers of the military K9’s on base, though. Whatever bond they share was forged and solidified in battle and goes way beyond that odd and shallow power play that happens between some officers and their so-called “pets”.

So, Simon said no to the offer, firmly and several times at that. He doesn’t care for the bloody permission, no matter how rare it is, no matter how fellow soldiers who’d caught rumour about it had blatantly stated their envy about the possibility of gaining a hybrid pet themselves. Truthfully, Simon becomes sick to his stomach whenever one of the other officers and NCO’s talk about wanting to own a pretty pleasure puppy; something dumb and docile to have fun and unwind with in their time off duty.

Fucking hell. No, Simon doesn’t want to be part of that, let alone be responsible of some freakish hybrid mutt.

Weeks pass, both thoughts and arguments about hybrids and handlers are pushed back and filed away in some nook inside Simon’s mind as he falls back into his daily grind and familiar routine; running drills, paperwork, field trainings, preparing for missions, more paperwork.

Until one fateful day in January.

The UK weather has been more terrible lately; icy rain and howling winds beating down on base while Simon was trying to keep the rookies in line at the shooting range. By the end of the day, his fatigues were drenched and clinging to his broad frame while the chill was seeping through his pale skin, settling into his bones; making his limbs heavy and turning them stiff as if he’d carried a rucksack full of boulders on his back for a week straight.

The moment Simon arrives at the front door to his flat on base, though, the hairs at the back of his neck bristle immediately. The hallway is empty, but–

Something isn’t right. He can practically sense that someone was here, perhaps even inside his place in the worst case.

Halting in his measured steps while his breathing levels out to that eerie shallowness he’s adapted to on missions, his ears perk up under his skull balaclava as he listens for any odd noises coming from inside. Unable to pick up anything unusual, Simon still chooses to rather be safe than sorry as he reaches for his pistol in the holster strapped to his right thigh.

Simon manages to open the front door without any noise before he slips inside effortlessly, living up to his name as a ghost as he stalks through his flat on high alert; checking the small storage room before sneaking down the short, dark hallway leading up to his open living room. He can bloody sense that something is different, that someone has tampered with his safe space; he can smell the lingering scent of cigarette smoke, sweat, and tangy cologne even through his damp balaclava.

The sight that greets him on his old, tattered couch when he eventually flips on the light switch, is unlike anything he expected and Simon’s whole body tenses, eyes widening comically as if he’s met face to face by a firing squad.

But it’s just you, a bloody dog hybrid, curled up on his couch like you belong there–which you don’t.

And Simon slowly lowers his pistol, watches your fluffy white ears appear from under your hair as they perk up before you lift your head, like pristine cotton balls popping open in the sunlight; your body uncurling and stretching slowly while you squint against the bright yellow drop-light.

“What the bloody… fuck,” Simon breathes, chest deflating with a deep sigh as he puts his pistol back into his holster, securing it once more. Dark eyes flicker around the room before he catches a large black suitcase next to what looks like a gift basket.

Simon approaches the basket the way he would a bomb threat while his vigilant eyes keep shifting towards you as if you could attack him any moment, although you’re clearly still waking up, all discombobulated and sleep-drunk.

When Simon catches a clear view at the assortment of goodies and the black folder tucked between them inside the basket, his cold heart stutters and his blood freezes in his veins. At the sight of the pale pink collar with its matching leash, the vein in his temple throbs with a mixture of fury and revulsion.

The sound of your soft, sickly-sweet voice chirping out a greeting nearly makes his wretched soul leave his body. “Hi… Hello.”

Simon takes a step back, needing a protective wall at his back and as much space between himself and you as possible as he tries to assess the situation.

“How the fuck did you get inside my flat?” Simon mutters under his breath, dark eyes widening when he realizes the thumping in his ears doesn’t match his rapid heartbeat but belongs to your fluffy white tail gently wagging against the soft leather of his couch; just as fluffy and white as your ears, like freshly made cotton candy.

“I was brought here and told to wait for my new handler,” you answer as your head tilts to the side curiously, gazing up at the large man with bright doe-eyes. “Are you Simon?”

Simon’s narrowed eyes widen instantly again at the sound of your voice uttering his name so sweetly, so... casually. It makes him sick to his stomach, and he swallows back the sour taste in his mouth as it fills with saliva.

“Who the fuck brought you ‘ere?”

He needs a name, so he knows who to beat to a pulp before he grabs the first poor bastard who crosses his path next.

“Uhm–oh!” Your small, triangle-shaped ears perk up, and the giggle you let out makes Simon grimace underneath his mask. “They had silly names for humans,” you tell him, still giggling softly to yourself before adding: “Gaz and Soap.”

Simon huffs in exasperation and pinches the bridge of his nose. Of course, it explains the “special orders” his bloody Sergeants had gotten from Price today; the reason he couldn’t attend today’s training session. And suddenly, it all clicks into place.

“You’re all wet, Simon,” you remark about his appearance; sweet voice laced with a concern so genuine that is has his spine tense and his stomach churn with aversion. “Are you not cold?”

He wants to bark at you to stop calling him by his name, to stop trying to appeal to him just because your bloody stupid nature tells you to, to stop imprinting on your so called “new handler” just because someone told you that you belong to him now. He wants you out of his flat and out of his life before anything terrible and out of his control can take root and blossom behind his ribcage.

“Get up,” he snaps at you before his thoughts can spiral any further and he almost, almost feels bad when you flinch in your seat, ducking your head submissively while your ears flatten against your head. “I’m taking you back. You’re not staying here, lass.”

“W-What?” Your face drops, your fluffy tail stops wagging; eyes glossing over as you begin to tremble and shrink on the spot. The sound of your soft whine only angers Simon more, because it tugs on his heartstring, makes his protective instincts flare.

“You heard me. Get up and grab your fuckin’ suitcase. ’m taking you back to wherever you came from.”

When Simon glances back at you, something mean and violent lodges itself into his chest cavity; twisting and squeezing his rotten heart as soon as he sees the devastated look on your face; ears drooping and shoulders slouching in defeat while another soft whine vibrates in your chest.

“Okay,” you answer eventually, snivelling when fat tear breaches your lower lash line and runs down your supple cheek as you untuck your legs from under yourself to move off the couch. “Okay…”

There’s a shrill ringing in his ears when Simon’s mouth seems to move on its own, making a decision for him. “Wait. Stay–Stay right where you bloody are.”

And you immediately do as you’re told, like the obedient pup you obviously are, settling back and perking up again as you blink dumbly at the brutish man with bright, big eyes and an expectant look that makes Simon groan internally before he reaches into one of his many pockets to retrieve his old smartphone.

He mutters and curses under his breath as the cracked screen lights up, and it doesn’t take long for him to find his Captain’s name in his short contact list. Simon taps the screen with his gloved thumb to call the man, ready to argue tooth and nail to have you picked up by from his flat again, so he doesn’t have to deal with it.

Simon’s jaw is clenched tightly while his sharp gaze keeps flickering back to you, still not quite believing you’re not some stress-induced hallucination, or nightmare.

It takes two rings before Price picks up.

“Ghost–“

Simon inhales deeply. “Price–“

“Getting acquainted with your new companion, son? She’s quite the sweetheart. Easy on the eyes, too, judging by what the lads told me.”

His chest deflates, air rushing from his lungs in a long exhale. That comment alone is enough to make him even more furious. “I don’t want her. Take her back to wherever she came from, Captain.”

There’s a beat of tense silence before Price speaks up again, and Simon can hear the squeak of the old office chair as the other man leans back in it.

“Did you read her file yet?”

“No, should I?” Simon counters gruffly, feeling his patience grow thinner by the second.

“Aye, son, I suggest you should.”

“Gimme the short version, Price. I’m this close to handing her over to the next lucky bloke who passes by my fuckin’ flat.”

“Yeah, don’t do that,” Price says decisively on the other; his gruff voice way too calm for Simon’s liking. “She’s a rescue, Lieutenant. Got rescued from one of those terrible puppy mills.”

That makes Simon shut up as his eyes flicker over to you; softening somewhat when his eyes lock with yours. You keep watching him with the slightest pout, waiting for orders or for him to finally send you away. He’s still considering it, though the revelation of your background makes him hesitate for some odd reason. Empathy.

“Simon?”

Simon squeezes the phone harder in his grip; hard enough he thinks he might break it once and for all. “You better find a new handler for her, Captain.” He bites out through clenched teeth. “It’s not gonna be me.”

Price sighs. “Alright.” There is another pause and Simon can hear it when Price scratches his coarse beard in contemplation before he speaks up again. “Just keep an eye on her for the night, aye? I’ll make the necessary arrangement to have her transferred to someone else.”

“Good. She can stay for one night. One. Night.” Simon growls before hanging up.

The soft sound of your tail thumping against the couch catches his attention again and when he looks back at you, you’re practically beaming at him.

“Fuckin’ hell…”

[ask-sgtfluffy]

open rp :D

i guess a lil tw: mentions of blood, death, nico probably looking rabid

it’s a lil long for a starter… but i needed to have a lot of info LMAO

It had been months since Nico had gone on any sort of mission.

He wasn’t… the most stable, to say the least. Known to act like a damn animal when fighting, not having that much control. It was the risk when having someone with a high animal instinct.

There were a lot of protocols following him, people who were designated ‘handlers’ if you will. The handlers that they did not have currently. But, desperate times come for desperate measures.

He was already on edge from finding out about the mission, the trip there was even worse, now that he was on the field… he needed to have at least one person keep an eye on him. He had an impeccable recall, after all.

One thing led to another… leaving him to get separated from everyone else. To be left without a pair of eyes on him. The mission was a shit show, to say the least. Now, he knew the target and he knew not to kill the man, but the targets men? Those poor souls were a lost cause.

Nico was bloody. Very bloody. Stood over an enemy soldiers body with a heaving chest. A knife resting in his hand, pointing downward. Pupils dilated, focused. The man was dead, had been for a bit, yet that didn’t seem to be shaking the hybrid from his trance.

If anything, he looked like a rabid dog.

[priceoftheduchess]

obsessed w bird hybrids rn!! please enjoy ❤︎

Johnny had heard of them all his life. Hybrids. Half-animal, half-humans, but he’d always just saved the thought for his silly little werewolf Halloween movies. He just couldn’t bring himself to actually believe that they were real. Until he was recruited into the SAS, and eventually TF141.

They were working on a mission that had ended up going beyond them. Beyond their human abilities. So, they started taking hybrid-only applicants to TF141.

Some were half-human, half-wolf. Some were half-human, half-lion. Some were half-human, half-reptile variants. But none of them were you.

You, a sweet little crow-hybrid. Expansive, dark brown wings with feathers that were soft to the touch, and luxurious in their feel sprouting from your back. Johnny was sure someone would’ve paid you millions to pluck feathers from your wings, with how gorgeous they looked.

But besides the wings, you were gorgeous. Pale skin with freckles littered everywhere, and soft, round eyes capable of stealing anyone’s heart. But especially Johnny’s — the ol’ sap. And your body, all soft edges and plush skin. Your nails were sharp, resembling talons, but you kept them tucked at your sides. Cute little thing.

And you were smart. Intelligent to a fucking T, and Johnny thought it was so hot.

TF141 did some trial training with you, and you passed like a champ. You were swift, fast-thinking on your feet, and just impressive.

You held an onslaught of talents that amazed Johnny. Night vision, mimicry, and even a fleeting use of psycho-metry that wowed them all. You read a memory from Kyle’s first birthday just from touching a scarf, for God’s sake!

Price noticed Johnny’s little crush right away. He kept Johnny on a short leash, praying and hoping that Johnny’s overbearing tendencies wouldn’t scare you away. But thankfully, they didn’t. You barely even noticed, you sweet bird.

Johnny spoke to you for the first time about a month after you were officially moved in, as overwhelming as it was for him to keep his distance and allow you time to adjust. He simply brushed your wing and apologized.

“Mm, sorry bonnie. Dinnae mean to brush ye wing,” he chuckled softly, pouring himself some coffee with shaky hands. He wasn’t even allowed to drink coffee anymore.

“Not a problem, Johnny. They’re a hazard sometimes.” You joked and smiled. He nodded and played it off, but his body was thrumming under the attention. He walked back to his room, half-chub at the thought of you just saying his name again.

He was hopelessly in love with you, birdy, and he was surprised that — for all the endless intelligence you had — you never caught his glances or picked up on all his touchiness.

Simple smoothing of your feathers, or grabbing your waist as he passed behind you, or reaching into the cabinet above you and invading your space. All of it. Little things. Little breadcrumbs he’d leave for his birdy.

[doctor-dove]

(closed rp w @feiyunaskblog @ask-declanwilsons & @ask-fireflycod)

Wren had told Declan about her new friendship with Feiyun, and he was happy that they had finally met and talked a bit outside of Feiyun’s appointments.

What had started off as a little joke between Declan and Dove about perhaps going on a double date with Feiyun and Ryker sprouted an actual idea in Wren’s mind.

What if they did?

So, she began coordinating. Making dinner reservations and even looking at show or opera tickets for afterwards.

No. Too fancy. Who does that?! Dove scrapped the opera, settling for dinner and treats at her favorite fro-yo place, where her father would take her on her cheat days.

She shot Declan a quick text,

[Everything is all set! Let them know ;P]

[diejager]

Puppy reader who is teething and her teeth feels very itchy so she constantly needs to chew on something and monster!Konig tentacles are her favorite things to chew on bc they're kinda rubbery, soft and taste funny...

- 🐮

Cw: teething, biting, sea food???, tell me if I missed any.

Ghost had been your handler for the past year, having to train and teach you everything you’d need to work with them. He’d seen your lows as often as your highs, from a whining pup, moaning about not receiving enough pets or kisses or treats, seemingly almost missing something, to an energetic mutt, bouncing off the walls and running laps at the prospect of praises and affection. 

He’d seen it all, every little moment you had that had him strain against the limit of his patience as a competent handler. And despite your age, far from being a young puppy with frail limbs and limp ears, you could act as on: whining, crying, barking until something - someone - gave you the attention you needed, but he’d never seen you do… this.

It was unusual for you to be this mouthy, teeth itching to sink into something, your teeth bared and snarling when anyone tried to take the object from your mouth. Ghost had bought you toys, boxes filled with softer chew toys rather than the hard plastic of a shoe or the metal bite of utensils, but you worked through them faster than he could provide. Perhaps you were bored of the repeated drills despite dogs being creatures of habit, or you were lacking activity, he was getting busier with all the reports and paperwork he had to fill in for Price. Especially with another PMZ being called for a joint alliance.

He worried that they’d pose a danger to you, so young and naive to how others could treat you as a hybrid, he had both Gaz and Soap follow you —or rather, you follow them; but when he saw you perk up at the sight of a giant man and another hybrid, a scarred tiger, Ghost felt his shoulders tense. You just had to find interest in a man - could he even be a man with how big he was? - heads taller than him, broad and dangerous. You had completely forgotten his orders, trailing behind the giant like a lost pup, tail wagging and eyes bright. 

You’d go missing for hours upon hours, leaving the Task Force as worried as they were confused, lost without the small ball of sunshine around them. They would go looking for you, asking around until they eventually found you curled up and asleep on your bed, your snoring echoing softly in Ghost’s room. It went on like that for the week and the next, only finding you in the Mess Hall or your bed, not knowing where you went during these long breaks. 

Until- until Gaz had found you straddling the giant’s - König’s - lap, you face covered in a thin layer of mucus and gnawing on a tentacle, long and dark and viscous. Ghost was livid, König being an octopus hybrid - however odd that sounded - and how at ease you both felt to let each other be so physically close to one another. Granted, you were a sociable hybrid, which seemed to bother him less than the sight of you biting on a König’s tentacle.

He knew you were somehow teething, but it bothered him how you were dealing with it with someone else instead of coming to him for a solution. Ghost would have to talk to you later.

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