#cod x trans!reader

[dimlylittorch]

18+ MDNI

Club owner!John Price x transmasc!chubby!sweetheart!innocent!reader

I’m just craving to write something so self serving y’all- very much my kind of thing i like to read so I hope someone else might enjoy it too💀

My Masterlist🌿

It wasn’t your first time in a club, of course. You went once with one of your college clubs, so that totally counts right? Then again, that was just a basic campus dive bar. This place was a little more high end, but it came with great reviews.

You decided to dress casually- I mean it was basically a bar with extra add ons right? Who wouldn’t dress comfortably? Slipping into a slightly baggy Hawaiian shirt and some solid colored shorts to accommodate, you walked in front of your bathroom mirror and looked yourself over. A usual outfit for you, but you picked one of your prettier ones for the benefit of the doubt. A tan colored shirt with a dark red and green rose pattern on it.. who wouldn’t think it’s cute? And doesn’t everyone love to feel like they’re on vacation when at a bar? It was simple, really. You couldn’t see any reason not to wear it.

That is until you walk into the place.

Women wearing nice dresses, some men in suits.. you stuck out like a sore thumb. You already feel the embarrassment rising in your cheeks as you start to get stares, but you quickly calm yourself. Standing out is good. If they’re staring for that long, they must like my outfit, right? Maybe someone will ask me where I got it- which leads to a conversation, which leads to no more embarrassment. Everything’s fine.

You smiled softly to yourself as you eased your anxious thoughts, walking up to the bar and leaning over it a little rather than sitting at a stool.

“Could I just get an ice water please?” You ask sweetly with a smile to the bartender, earning you a questioning look. Your brain quickly tries to rationalize why he looked at you that way- many people didn’t order water a lot so he didn’t know what kind of glass to put it in? “You can just put it in a whiskey glass- makes me feel fancy” you beam at him. Of course, the bartender still was confused, but you didn’t pay any mind. You didn’t think he had any reason to he confused, so you didn’t worry about it.

Once you get your water, rather than sitting at a table you start to make your rounds, gently wandering around the club, lots of eyes on you, which you ignore with a smile to every persons gaze you catch. As you wander, you reach the more strip club-esque area, dancers on stage and walking around with lots of people sitting and watching. Men cheering and women laughing. You decide to grab a seat right in front of the stage, pulling out your wallet and pulling out the few bills you had. It wasn’t much, but it seemed rude to not tip the dancers.

The next performance starts and a woman starts her dance in front of you, meeting your gaze once or twice. You weren’t like the usual customer, not eye fucking her and practically salivating in your seat. You were actually watching her dancing, enjoying the performance like most people should. At the end of the routine, most people start throwing bills at her on stage, which to you seemed a little rude. You gently stand from your seat, leaning forward and offering her your money instead, earning you points and laughs from most of the other patrons.

“You did really well” you say softly with a genuine smile as she takes the money before you sit back down meekly, knowing everyone was making comments about you.

That was definitely a new experience for her, not often being treated with respect at her night job. She heads to the back after her performance, seeing her boss walking by.

“How did tonight go?” He asks with a cigar hanging from his lips.

“Not too bad. Made a decent amount.” She sighs softly. “The funniest thing though- there’s some kid out there, being all sweet and handing me the money.” She chuckles. “Poor thing got laughed at pretty hard.” She adds before she heads down the hallway.

John’s ears perk up at her words, his eyes turning towards the door that leads to the audience. He decides to peek out into the crowd, and his eyes land on a young man in a Hawaiian shirt, slipping his wallet into his pocket before he stands up from his seat and starts to leave the performance area. John’s curiosity is peaked. How is it that a sweet looking kid like that managed to wander into his club?

As you leave the performance area, you start to turn back towards the bar area, when you hear a voice behind you.

“Didn’t like the performance enough to stay?” A rough voice speaks from behind you. You quickly turn around, looking up at a tall man in a dark suit with a white button down, a few of the buttons undone so you could see some of his chest hair peeking out. He was definitely older- but also definitely attractive. Your eyes widen at his words, finally registering what he said.

“No! No- no, not at all” you ramble out quickly. “It was great- I just-“ you chuckle, clearly anxious about saying the wrong thing. He was pretty intimidating to look at. “I ran out of cash. And I didn’t want to not tip the next performers.” You add softly.

John smirks at how anxious you are around him, fully prepared to attempt to make you flustered. “Or maybe you just don’t like men.” He smirks as he gestures to the next performance, a male dancer taking the stage this time. He watches your eyes widen as your gaze catches the dancer, your cheeks heating up ever so slightly before you look away shyly.

“I-“ you start to whisper, but he quickly cuts you off.

“You like how he looks, hm?” He murmurs amusedly. “His name is Soap. Why don’t you come sit with me. We can watch him together.” He offers with a smirk.

Your cheeks are already red from standing in front of one of the most attractive men you’ve seen in a while- but the thought of watching a strip show with him? Jesus. How could you say no?

“Alright” you say softly, shyly following him to a nicer table in what seemed to be the V.I.P section. You set your glass of ice water on the table, glancing around absentmindedly before you look up to him. “Are there any coasters?” Your soft voice speaks.

John can’t help but let out a soft chuckle at your words, leaning back in the booth and raising his arms over the back of it.

“No coasters.” He murmurs. It occurs to him that I probably have no idea who he is. No idea that he owns this club. It’s the innocence as a whole that intrigues him.. the genuine smile, casual clothing.

“Right” you whisper softly, taking the glass off of the table and holding it on your lap, much to his amusement. As he watches the dancer on stage, you carefully glance over his form, taking him in. He was tall, well built, but not too muscular. He had a pouch on his stomach area, but who doesn’t love a dad bod? He looks.. good. Really good. Sure, plenty of guys are attractive, but he just seems to have all of the good qualities mixed into one man. Strong, yet soft, intimidating but not scary. You felt safe with him, surprisingly.

“You’re new here.” He murmurs as he looks across the crowd, paying attention to the performance, as if making sure the routine is going as it should. “Yeah.” You say softly as you sip your water. “I don’t drink much.” You add quietly.

“But you’re here?” He questions as he looks at you, his eyebrow raising slightly. “Forgive me for wanting to adventure out a little.” You chuckle softly. “It seemed.. nice. The ratings were good.” As he’s about to reply, a round of applause starts off, Soap’s routine having ended. You quickly set your glass in between your legs, clapping as you look towards the stage with a smile.

“He did really well” you smile at John when you glance over at him. John smirks slightly when he sees your smile, and he reaches over, grabbing the glass from in between your legs and holding it.

“Wouldn’t want your thighs to get cold, love.” He murmurs with a small smirk as he looks off towards Soap. Before you can reply, the stage is set for a new performance, and a freshly dressed Soap approaches the booth.

“How’d I do, sir?” He grins down at John.

“As good as ever” he smirks as he gestures to me. “Soap, this is my new friend..?”

“Y/n” you say with a sweet smile towards Soap. It’s a little awkward considering you were just watching him grind against a stage. “You’re a really good dancer”

Soap grins and puffs out his chest slightly with a smirk. “I’m a good dancer in private too, if you ever happen to be interested” he winks.

“Oh buzz off Johnny. I’m sure there are plenty of people waiting for you back stage.” John scoffs.

Your cheeks redden slightly, a shy chuckle slipping past your lips, making John glance over at you.

“Unless you’re interested, love.” He murmurs with a curious gaze.

Your eyes meet his and they widen slightly. “No! No-“ you say quickly. “I mean- I’m flattered- you’re- you’re very pretty” I chuckle shyly as your eyes meet Soap’s. You see grins starting to form on both of their faces, and your cheeks heat up further. “I- um” you stutter. “Thank you for the offer” you finally manage to spit out.

Both of the men start to chuckle amongst themselves, Soap leaning over the table to get a better look at you.

“Pretty boy, you’re allowed to say yes” he smirks. “Unless I’m not your type..” he fake pouts a little.

As he leans closer, your hearts speeds up a little. “You are” you whisper softly. “I’m just.. probably not a good candidate” you murmur with an apologetic smile.

Soap offers a small smile, standing back up with a nod. “No worries, pretty boy. I’m always around if you change your mind” he winks before he pats John’s shoulder, then heading off backstage.

John smirks as he sees your reddened cheeks, his gaze affectionate. “Not a good candidate, eh?”

You sigh softly, taking a sip of water. “Trans” you murmur without much more explanation. “By the time I explain it to people, the mood is ruined.”

“You kidding?” I laughs. “Soap will fuck just about anything. No need to be worried about that in here” he murmurs as he finishes his glass of whiskey. “Cmon. I’m taking you back” he says as he stands up, holding out his hand.

You glance at his outstretched hand, blinking a little in confusion. After a few moments you take it, standing up and letting him lead you backstage.

tips and requests are open :D

haven’t been on my writing game lately so i’m sorry if this wasn’t that great!

[blond3ang3l]

I don’t agree with cheating at all..

But like imagine neighbor! Price, he knows your husband and isn’t that big of a fan of him at all. Leaving you alone for days on end for “business trips”. Price knew that’s not what he was doing. Your husband was a damn junkie. Running up all you guys money on coke and bottles at clubs.

He had seen him while off duty at a club with Gaz and Nikolai. Blowing your money, the money he had spent without your knowledge, on strippers and the several bottles he had bought in the club.

Price being be good neighbor he was had told you. He felt bad when he saw how your heart practically shattered. You were tearing up and ended up crying into his chest. He brought you back into your house where he stayed with you the entire time. Your tears for your husband was soon replaced with tears for John as he had you splayed out on his lap.

“I know baby, I know. Feels good yeah?”

You could barely get your words out as he rubbed your clit for what seemed like forever while he had you propped up on his lap. Tears pouring down your cheeks as you felt your fourth orgasm hit you.

“So good for me doll, let’s make sure you feel real nice now, yeah?..”💭🎀

[starryey]

God, think of trans dombot! Simon with a very submissive subtop! reader and you are literally a monster but you can’t function without Simon’s voice giving you orders and you would follow him without question even if it costs you your life.

Think of how dombot! Simon puts a collar with leash on you while he’s lying back in his seat with his legs spread wide for you. Your thick cock stretches his already wrecked hole mercilessly as your heavy balls slap against the plump mass of his ass over and over again.

Dombot! Simon holds the leash to keep you in check, giving you a few tugs every now and then and keeping constant eye contact. You can see his lustful, commanding eyes through his mask as your already labored breathing hitches, he’s so handsome you just want to make him a baby just as cute

You continue pounding his pussy like a vice, listening to his moans and incomprehensible ramblings until your orgasm becomes imminent and you begin to beg him to let you cum, it's what you deserve after having done such a good job on your last mission

You cum as soon as Simon gives you his confirmation, leaving your fat cock stuck to the hilt as your balls empty into his swollen and reddened pussy, he'll probably get angry as soon as he comes down from his own ecstasy, but that's not important right now.

Dombot! Simon has the leash tightly gripped with his eyes rolled up and mind totally blank, the only thing he can feel is the pleasant stretch of your cock and your baby batter filling him to the brim. Just as you had anticipated Simon scolds you a while later, but you cared little when you were busy admiring your baby batter dripping from his pretty, abused pussy

Oh how you adore this man

[gofishygo]

everyone always talks about ‘medic reader’ this and ‘teammate reader’ that but what abt weapons engineer/mechanic reader ?

just a silly little fella who helps out the 141 with their weapons when they go out of whack, who works very closely with the team to coordinate certain weapons for specific missions .

they’d probably have a really close bond with soap , both having fun with testing demolitions together . who’s able to add in ideas and carry conversations with you when you ramble on about weapons . johnny pulls you close to him when they get startled from the loud noise of an explosion , laughing a little at how they excuse their sudden vulnerability with ‘not expecting it to be that loud’.

price who seeks them out when he’s having issues with his cm901, having to endure your age-long lectures about not accidentally slamming the barrel to hard. he subconsciously makes sure the brush his hand over yours when he finally retrieves his now-fixed weapon.

yeah nyways weapon mech! reader has my heart

[rodolfoparras]

All this baby trapping is driving me crazy in the best way

idk who I'd want to baby trap more, Rudy, Graves, literally all of the 141, I'm just so obsessed with them! They'd all look pretty knocked up and stuffed ^-^

Cw: attempted baby trapping, breeding kink, 18+

Thinking about graves w/ a breeding kink, who will more often than not ask you to fuck him without a condom, promising he’s on birth control which he is but he can’t help that he forgets to take them some days, who will have the two of you go for multiple rounds till his cunt is dripping from cum and he’s using his fingers to push it back in just in case, who will stay skewed onto your cock for hours making sure you fuck him so rough and deep til he’s sure your cockhead is grazing his womb

It doesn’t take much for you to figure out what he’s trying to do, and although you can’t help but feel blood pooling to the lower half of your body at the sheer thought that graves is trying to have your baby, there’s no way in hell you’d be tied down to him in that way and luckily he hasn’t gotten pregnant yet.

However you still want do indulge him in his little fantasy so you buy him a squirting dildo with fake cum in it, spending hours upon hours using that thing on him, watching that way his body quakes, completely soaked in sweat, and cunt swollen and red.

“Please please I cant” he cries out, head trashing side to side as fat tears rolls down his cheek.

“This is what you wanted right? For me to make you a mommy? Be a good boy and take it”

[astr0exe]

HYBRID AU !

(tm reader, puppy reader, dehumanisation(?), nsfw)

(pt 2.)

Soap definitely tries to convince the other to let you stay in his room, just so he can pamper (use) you, his little puppy:(

I feel like Price would have a dog bed in his office, UNDER his desk, so you can play with his dick whenever he wants you to, cause.. you dont know what you really want puppy, just suck on his dick for a little bit, it will help your confused brain he promises and he wouldnt ever lie to his favourite pet

Gaz would absolutely spoil and pamper you, like always sliding you treats, letting you use him, letting you curl up in his lap

Ghost would probably have a collar made for you when you first get bought by them, a pretty pet deserves a pretty collar right boy? he would probably wanna see your drenched hole stretch along him AND Johnnys dicks, just be a good boy and take it:(

[thegnomelord]

if you write a thing about the creaming the zussy i will kiss ur boots

The boots better be shining when you're done.

How To Cure Zombies 101

CW:NSFW MDNI, crackfic obv PiV sex, TLOU Clicker trans Ghost, Top Male Reader, established relationship, happy ending, dub-con because Simon consented before he got bit but reader is apprehensive, zombie sex (does it count as necro?) how does this work? idk porn logic. Don't ask me how this happened, i hope this doesn't become what my blog becomes known for.

When the Cordyceps spread across the planet and turned millions of people into shambling mushroom infested undead, the world ended.

When Simon got bitten. . . your world ended.

You still remember it like it had been yesterday; He came back bloody, an empty look in his eyes as he showed you the bite on his arm. Your hands shook as he wrapped them around the grip of the gun and aimed it at his head. You both ended up on the floor with you crying into his chest, unable to pull the trigger.

You remember the resigned look in his eyes when he had agreed to let you do whatever you needed to him to cure him, but both of you knew there was no way, what made you immune to the fungus was as mysterious to the rest of the world as it was for you. His lips had been burning hot when he laid a soft kiss on your forehead, the last sense of warmth you've felt since the docs took him to where they kept the infected for study, your heart leaving with him.

And now?

Now the scientists that have been prodding you like a lab rat since Simon got bitten nearly a year ago say they have a way to bring his mind back, to get Simon back.

And the way to do it?

"So let me get this straight?" You begin, your voice tense, your body even tenser. "You want me to fuck the corpse of my lover? And that will cure him?"

That. You're not sure how the eggheads arrived to this conclusion, frankly all of their scientific jargons had flown over your head. All you understood was that the man you had fallen since the first time you met him could be brought back.

You sincerely hope you won't make some type of super fungus through this.

Words can't describe what you feel as you look at Simon's (is it even Simon?) bound body writhing on the gyno chair, naked and bare to you. You doubt you even know what you feel, hope and fear simultaneously curling in your stomach— You hadn't had the courage to look at him ever since the scientists took him away; The harsh laboratory lights make it easy to see the mycelium filling his veins beneath the ashy pale skin, mushroom caps growing beneath his pecs and across all other scars he has. Red and yellow mushrooms have eaten away his nose and spread out to follow the contours of his face, growing in a way that makes the mushroom caps blend together into a skull shape.

Your heart aches when you see his eyes haven't been eaten away yet, the once deep brown turned milky white and staring lifelessly past you, thrashing about in the bindings, rotten teeth gnawing on the ball gag in his mouth, small hisses and malformed muffled clicks echoing through the room.

You try to look down and you stop at his stomach, forcing yourself to breathe in and out slowly because your heart is beating so fast it feels like you'll have a panic attack. You have no idea if this will work and doing this to Simon only to find out it's as useless as all your previous attempts to cure him. . . you're sure it would break you. Closing your eyes and counting to ten you will yourself to focus, your eyes opening slowly and following the trail of little mushroom caps down to his groin.

It's not what you expected., but it's. . . a lot; Mushroom caps have replaced the lips of his cunt, similar to the hard growths on his head but these look thinner and longer, almost like flower petals framing his cunt, bright red at the corners and getting progressively lighter as it nears his hole. A sort of morbid curiosity compels you to reach out brushing your fingertips against the caps. They're surprisingly softer than you had expected, smooth and slick with some kind of slime. You can't help but notice how a longer stalked mushroom grows from what had been his clit.

You jerk your hand back when a second brush of your fingers makes his body to jerk back and attempt to fight against the restraints, more angry clicks vibrating his throat.

But you also notice a kind of… sweet scent in the air and it's coming from him. Cautiously you brush against the caps again, slowly dipping your fingers under to touch the gills underneath. You keep your hand where it is when he thrashes again, but you're certain that smell is stronger now, and you catch the glimpse of clear viscous slick slowly leak from his hole.

Carefully you push a finger into his hole in an attempt to stretch him out. Logically you know that he probably doesn't feel it, but it feels wrong to just stick your cock in him; He's cold. You know he's dead but you had held out some hope that he would be warmer, that there would be some signs of life despite how stupid that sounds.

He's dry right now, but more of that clear fluid seeps around your fingers and lubes the way as you experimentally push your finger all the way up to the last knuckle, and you felt his muscles flutter around you, clenching down as if trying to draw you in deeper. His head continued to thrash around, no change in the feral behavior, but you still try to be gentle, pushing one then two fingers in and slowly scissoring him open.

You pull your fingers out when his hole has relaxed enough to let you easily slide your fingers in and out, and he's produced enough slick to completely drench your hand. You try to look at him as you press your cock against his fluttering hole, but the sight of his milky eyes almost makes you soft on the spot so you screw your eyes closed and slowly slide in.

Despite how cold and wet his cunt is, you haven't felt anyone's touch, even your own, since he got infected, and a part of you feels disgusted at how a bit of pleasure traces up your spine. He continues to hiss and click as you bottom out, his hips bucking wildly you have to press them down. You set a slower pace than you're used to, keeping your thrusts even and consistent, afraid to tear anything but your fear is seemingly misplaced. He's so much wetter than he'd ever get before he got infected, slick wetly squelching as you bottom out over and over again, clicks and snarls accompanying every move you make.

You're ashamed to say you don't last long. Fuck, is he tight you've been ignoring your body for so long that when you accidentally brush against the stalk growing from his clit and his cunt suddenly tightens up like a vice you cum on the spot, your hips doing little minute twitches as you empty so much of your cum in his cunt that your balls hurt. You pull out just as slowly, both of your mixed fluids leaking out and almost getting caught by the soft mushrooms framing his hole.

You muster up the courage to look him in the eyes, and your heart breaks when his lifeless eyes blindly stare back at you.

You feel like a fool when the first time doesn't work, he's still just a body pupated by a fungus. And you feel like an even bigger fool when you agree to do this a second time.

But the third time. . .

You don't know if it's just wishful thinking but he seems more. . . alert. His head always follows you when you approach him but now his milky eyes almost seem to be looking at your face instead of staring straight through you. He's strangely still on the chair, teeth gnawing on the ball gag but he doesn't try to get out of the restraints.

He doesn't screech when you gently caress the soft outer mushroom caps framing his cunt, instead his chest vibrates with more deep clicks. Nor does he start to wildly writhe on the chair when you slowly sink a finger into his cunt, finding it's already wet with slick. If anything he almost seems to chase(more like stumble) after the sensation, his hips doing small little movements to push your finger deeper into him.

Emboldened by childish hope you do something you hadn't before and reach with your other hand to slowly trace the long stalk of the clitshroom (not a term you coined), before rubbing the base of the cap like you would your own cock.

You nearly jump out of your skin when the gentle pressure of your fingers makes him buck into your hands and let out an ear-piercing screech that the gag has trouble muffling. You pull your hands away and that worsens the problem, the shrieking turning into literal chest rumbling snarls as Simon starts to struggle against the bindings.

Panic rushing down your system you put your hands were they were, gently stroking the 2 inch long mushroom growing from his clit. His hips buck up to chase after your hand, the snarls reverting back into shrieks, but as you stroke him longer they gradually die down to low pitched clicks and whistles. You're stumped; the clicks sound a lot like a cat's puff, his hole fluttering and clenching around your fingers as you slowly push them inside.

He's warmer now, not quite how he was before, but not cold as a corpse either. You know that you've gone completely mad by the fact he starts to gyrate his hips— grinding down just as you get knuckles deep so your fingers can brush against the sensitive spots inside him — makes your mind think that it's a bit of your Simon coming back.

You shake your head and pull your hands away, taking hold of his trembling thighs. You're greeted with another deep snarl but he quiets down immediately when you start to slowly push into him. He feels even tighter now, and you watch how his head falls back on the headrest, a long series of low clicks and whistles squirming past the gag.

His hips move to meet your slow thrusts, tight warm walls squeezing down every time you attempt to pull out just like he used to do. And that thought has your body increasing the pace automatically, your balls slapping against his ass, every sharp thrust hitting something spongy inside him and drawing out a sharp click, the rough pace leaving you panting.

Mindlessly you look up, too caught up in the moment remembering how Simon loved eye contact to remember the situation you're in.

He's looking straight at you.

You halt mid thrust, the low hiss he lets out falling on deaf ears as you tilt your head to the side. You're not insane, his eyes follow you. They're still milky, but they don't look through you. He's looking at you.

Another rough clicking sound leaves him and he thrusts his hips down against yours with enough strength to bruise, almost impatient. Despite how stupid it is you reach out and quickly unbuckle the gag with trembling fingers. "Si?" You say, unable to hide the hope in your voice. "Are you there?" You lean over him, looking hopefully into his eyes. "Do you remember me?"

His jaw moves like he's munching on a survivor, but all that leaves his mouth are more clicks and rough grunts.

Fuck. You are a fool.

A sob tears through your chest before you can stop it, ducking your head down to lay it on his chest. You're unable to keep the fresh tears from falling on him, watering the damned mushrooms that had taken him from you. You can't stop the sobs from coming, your back bowed and shoulders shaking as you cry just as much as the day you first lost him.

His chest vibrates with another long series of clicks and whistles, just pouring salt on the gaping would in your chest.

Your name rights through the room.

It's scratchy, rough, almost incomprehensible to your ears, but it's your name.

You look up so quickly you almost snap his neck. "Simon?" You whisper, staying in him even as you feel yourself soften. "Are you in there?" You slowly reach out to hold his face, careful not to cut your hands on the sharp mushroom caps along his cheeks.

He looks at you back, jaw moving still, but he doesn't try to bite the flesh of your palms despite your hands being right there. "Ckckck-" He clicks, pupils going from pinpricks to blown out, "Ckckrkck- Mo- ckck-ve." He manages, a thrust of his hips accompanying the order.

Your heart leaps to your throat and you can do nothing but follow it, sliding one hand down to dig your nails into his thigh, looming over him as you pull out until only the head is inside and them slam into him that there's an audible clap of skin on skin as you bottom out. A half shriek half click half "Yes!" escapes him as he throws his head back, slack jawed.

A whole range of noises escapes him as you hammer into him with all you've got, one hand remaining always on his face. You can feel him getting hotter the longer you pound into him, body shaking as each thrust nails his sensitive spot. He gets progressively tighter and tighter as you fuck into him, and you let go of his thigh to carefully strike along the long shaft of the clitshroom.

He shrieks at the top of his lungs and his cunt clenches down on you like a vice, fluttering around you and gripping your cock like it doesn't want you to pull out. It pulls you into an orgasm,

"Simon?" You whisper, staying in him even as you feel yourself soften. He's too silent compared to how vocal he had been a few moments ago. "Are you in there?"

His head rolls a bit, peering at you through through his lashes, tongue moving heavily in his mouth and lips twitching up into a soft of barely-there grin. "Cckck- l- ckckc- love- ckrk-you -ckkckrkckck-"

Taglist: @dead-end-stuff

[septic-salad]

HAPPY TRANS AWARENESS WEEK!!!!

[omegapropaganda]

🔥🍯🔥

Burnt Honey ch. 9

poly141 x M!Omega!Reader

omegaverse

"You have been a member of Shadow Company and Phillip Graves' omega for years suffering at his hand until you meet the members of Task Force 141. They help you learn to love again while you help them destroy Shadow Company from the bottom up."

John "Soap" MacTavish/Reader, Simon "Ghost" Riley/Reader, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick/Reader, John Price (Call of Duty)/Reader, John "Soap" MacTavish/Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick/John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley/Gary "Roach" Sanderson (past), Phillip Graves (Call of Duty)/Reader (toxic), Rodolfo Parra/Alejandro Vargas

be very aware of the tags and read them thoroughly. Major trigger warnings for graphic descriptions of male on male non-con/rape, manipulation, degradation (not the fun kind), and general abusive toxic sexual relations. These are not romanticized and very much harm Reader.

please take care of yourself if you are sensitive to these issues and still decide to proceed with reading this fic. I will not be held responsible for your actions after you read these warnings, okay?

[simonsrileyhusband]

okay, soooo i saw that you might write for other 141 members so, ive had this thought for days.

Religous trauma John price x reader where john meets him and desides hell is worth it if he gets to have him.

Can be sfw or nsfw.

(This is a little bit of a darker topic so you can absolutly skip this and just do a fluffy john one!! 🍫)

nsfw: (religious reader, reader cries and prices likes it)

everytime price went home after deployment he found himself going to curch, even when he doesn't think he believes in god, he finds comfort there after being responsible of the death of so many.

he doesn't kneel or pray, he just sits there at the back, his hands together as he stares at the pretty angel in sitting diagonal to him. john can't help himself, he gets lost in the way your knees hit the cushion, how you close your eyes and pray so dearly, like there is someone listening to your begs.

and you are just so sweet that one day you walked to him, asking if he was okay, cus ylu caught him staring and unlike lost men, he didn't stop, he held your gaze until you shyly walked to him.

"i'm fine luv, just find it hard to understand what he means sometimes." he lies, he doesn't even listen to what the pastor says, he is there to feel less guilt of all the blood on his hands and to see his angel.

so you offered to explain the sermons to him, and sit besides him everytime he came by.

and eventually you found yourself visiting his house after church, and eventually he made his way into your pants.

"johnny, please, not now." you whine, he has you seated on his lap, his growing bulge rubbing into your ass, both of his hands rolling and moving your hips over him.

"but i need ya' now" he whispers into your ear, tossing the little bible you had on your hands away. "come on, i know you want it too."

it never takes more than a few heated kisses and praises for you to let him do whatever he want to you.

and everytime he is balls deep inside of your tight hole his facade falls, he starts being a bit mean and he grips a bit too hard. but he still adores you so much, so when he sees a few tears rolling down your cheeks he will kiss them away.

"shhh, i know baby, i know. it feel too good doesn't it." he whispers softly, almost like a prayer and you look up to him almost like he is your god, and for a split second john thinks god is real, because otherwise hole like yours wouldnt exist.

[fallenneziah]

More 09 trans!ghost smut for my dudes.

Cw: Gloryhole, trans!ghost, 09!Ghost, amab reader. A/B/O dynamics. Blowjobs. Getting to the point where I kind of just want to make a male OC for my little man Riley.

A/n: I bring you more food. *Shakes bag*

You knew Ghost wasn't yours. Of course your side of base had gotten up to some lasting habits the last little bit including marking down those going away for their heats. You had ways of dealing with it. Especially since Captain MacTavish was being handed as many under the table favors as you were.

You didn't mind it. You didn't mind trying to do some paperwork and feeling the intense heat filling the room from under your desk. Smelling pheramones that licked off the paint on the walls and stung your nose.

Feeling Ghost's fingernails digging into your thighs, throat relaxing as he sloppily caught the spit that dripped down your balls with his tongue. Looking up at you as best he could while he pressed his face flush to your groin. Moaning and soaking himself in your scent and your skin.

Ghost certainly wasn't yours. But you had every right to be jealous of him. He was the town whore for his captains and COs. The recruits very rarely got to have any of what he could offer. You were just lucky you were in his roster of cocks to suck when he felt like it.

He was extremely professional off the field. But as soon as he felt he wanted it or that heat set in. Simon Riley was a changed man.

He wasn't one to get embarrassed either. So seeing him waltz into your office was no shocker. Nor was him walking over to your desk, pulling his hoodie over his head, tossing it in the corner of your office and then promptly shoving his face in your crotch.

"Well you're proud aren't you?"

He'd only huff, waiting impatiently for you to give him the word, before you finally leaned back and spread your legs, letting him unzip your pants and pull your cock out. Stroking the flaccid length, pulling up his mask to get his warm mouth over the soft head.

Crystal blue eyelids fluttering as he pressed himself down into you.

Riley was your good boy as far as you were concerned. Fuck the sounds coming from MacTavish's room or hearing him taking a pounding from a second lieutenant he had been avoiding all day.

Today you felt particularly on edge for one reason. Simon's heat would be starting sometime. He'd not been acting well the past couple days so it was clear that you were right. But you hadn't seen Simon since then.

And that made you upset. Knowing he could be in heat and he went to someone else before you.

Your jealousy kept you from doing work, getting up and wandering the halls. Just get it out of you, maybe hear Riley taking it in that pretty pussy.

You walked near the bathroom, hearing the door swing open and a recruit walked out. He zipped up his pants, looking around and spotting you. Quickly he rushed away embarrassed, not wanting to be caught up in whatever was happening.

Odd. You went to the bathroom, pushing open the door and hearing chuckles and groans. Sounds of sex filled the air, the smell of lingering sharp wine filled with putrid semen slicking the floor.

One of the lieutenants saw you, unsure if you would be in on what was happening.

"What's going on?" You asked, but it didn't take long for you to catch one particular scent you knew well. Peppermint candies and kindle staining the walls of scent. Hitting you like a blast of cold air on a summers day.

"One of the soldiers is in heat." The lieutenant said. You saw two of the bathroom stalls open in either side of one locked stall. You knew them well. The inspection team could never figure out what the holes were for.

You squatted, bending down to see familiar shoes and bunched combat pants. You grinned wickedly, feeling arousal stir in your gut. "Slutty boy..." You muttered, standing.

"You know which one?" You asked, knowing they wouldn't. They shook their heads.

You didn't waste any time. You walked to the stall to the right, seeing the kid in there pressing his groin further against the hole in the stall. Breathing heavy past his lips and bucking lightly.

You touched his shoulder, making him jump. "I-I-"

"Times up kiddo."

He blushed, gripping the top of the stall divider and screwing his hips a few more times, no longer able to draw out his orgasm.

A slick pop could be heard,followed by a sharp deep breath from the middle stall. A low groan, and a jostle on the stall dividers meant someone had found their new spot across from you.

You ushered the kid out, sloppily he wiped his cock and shoved it, still hard and throbbing in his pants.

You didn't feel much remorse, closing the stall door and locking it. No one came in until you were done.

You slowly unbuckled your belt, bending down to the hole. "Riley~ you're being a bad boy." You said lowly.

You heard a soft whine, seeing a hand reach through the hole, wiggling fingers. You grabbed it, pressing his fingers to your lips.

"Please."

You could tell he was desperate, the smell was almost sickening.

You pushed him back through, undoing the flap of your jeans and pulling the zipper. You pulled your cock out, slowly stroking it, feeling the veins pop and your cock grow hard just from the thought of his lips pursed around your swollen head.

Pre-cum slowly built up on the tip, and you fed it into the hole, feeling warm breath sweep across the tip. You shuddered, keeping your thumb pressed on the base of your cock. You couldn't see him, but you felt him jostle, his lips brushing your cock, moaning a little.

From the second stall down, someone was having their fun, their cock burrowed deep inside Riley's dripping tight cunt.

Simon took your cock in hand, slowly licking it, lapping at the pre-cum before going over the head. Your cock pressed into his throat, feeling his tight reflexes tense around your fat length.

It was hot. The noises, the groans, the slapping skin and squelching juices. You couldn't help yourself, thrusting forward and forcing him to take more of you, his nose brushing against the stall divider.

He pressed his palm flat on the divider for stability, forcing his throat to relax and awkwardly bobbing his head on your cock.

You could imagine sparkling blue eyes leaking tears down freckled pale cheeks. Choking and spitting up saliva, tongue feeding against the bottom of your cock as you force him to take more like a big boy.

But this wasn't enough. Not for Riley, or for you.

"Come on, you're taking your sweet ass time."

The voice next to you said, a cocky attitude and a rough accent.

"You can wait your fucking turn." You replied, knowing exactly who was behind that door. You chuckled, groaning softly as Riley's lips sucked your cock, pushing himself down, choking and then pulling away. Saliva dripping from his sore, raw lips to the tip of your swollen cock.

"You know, Riley. You're really a slut."

Riley let out a soft moan, his body shaking and jerking as he was taken.

"F-Fuck... Captain please..."

You hummed lowly, urging him back onto your cock. You felt pride knowing without even seeing him you could coax him back to your cock. Knowing that Riley was rightfully your slut no matter what anyone said. "Fuck... Suck it like you mean it. I know you can do better that that." You gripped the top of the divider, forcing your groin flush against the hole.

His warm wet mouth and throat were perfect. Tight and hot. Just for you.

"Good boy, good boy, choke on it, come on, I know you can, you fucking slut, you love sucking me off, don't you, taking my thick cock and letting everyone hear."

Riley batted tears away from his eyelashes, his knees feeling weak as he felt seed pooling into his cunt. He choked, forcing himself down on your cock, tongue lapping at the underbelly of veins as his own orgasm dripped into his messy pubic hair.

It felt so hot. He couldn't remove one more inch of clothing but fuck. This was all he could do to combat that feral little beast inside him that wanted to ride cock until his hips fell off or someone put a baby in him.

Wanting to drive seed from you, wanting to taste it, to enjoy it like he always did. He continued to suck, your hips pressed to the cold stall wall, hearing choke and feeling him swallow. Your orgasm building up, your cock pulsing in his mouth.

"Fuck, fuck, Riley, I'm gonna cum, gonna fill that pretty mouth, gonna make you drink every last drop. God damnit you're a good fucking boy, aren't you?"

Simon only sucked. Kept his mouth going and busy. With one last swallow you groaned, shooting your load in his mouth. His gag reflex went haywire, trying to swallow and coughing on the thick spend.

Pulling away from your cock and choking it up down his chin, dripping into the floor. He panted, swallowing thickly to recover. Your cock still twitching in the hole, leaking the last drops.

"F-fuck."

"I know you're not done."

The other stall door closed, a recruit stumbling out, looking back to make sure they weren't caught, and left the bathroom.

Simon panted, knees shaking. You slowly pulled your cock away, wiping what Simon didn't get and tucking yourself back into your jeans. "When you're done you know exactly where to go."

You fixed your belt and opened the stall. Letting the soldier waiting impatiently inside. You still heard Simon choke and pant, knowing you seared his insides with another imprint. Still your slut, still your hole, no matter how many other men thought they could fill him full. You'd always, always exceed.

[mikichko]

invisible red line pairing: john price x transmasc!reader cw: not a totally neutral reader as it's modeled after someone, pure fluff :) a/n: xavi (@buttdumplin) was one of the first people I met when I first joined this fandom and he's easily become one of my close friends. it's a little crazy to think that posting about some men would introduce me to one of my favorite people here. this piece is a gift to xavi as a way to thank him for the incredible friendship and kinship we share. xavito, yo se que nada que yo hago o escribo podrá encapsular todo el cariño y agradecimiento que yo tengo hacia ti. pero espero que con esta escritura sientas un poquito del cariño y amor que tu amistad me trae a mi 💕

Nothing else makes the world feel the way it does when John has his hands on you. Hand in hand, on the small of your back, on your hip pulling you to him, or on your chin tilting you up to meet his lips. He can’t name it, can’t quite place his fingers on the why, only knows there’s a comfort it provides. The noise of the world dampens with you in his arms, the flat of his palms on you. There are no threats to prepare for, no problems that need solving. It’s all tranquil here with you.

It’s what has him questioning his beliefs, pondering the idea of fate. John’s not a religious man. Not one to let others reap the glory of his hard work. It’s why he despises fate, it undermines him. He sneers at the mere idea of a predetermined life, one with a path set for him to follow. Like a mindless drone tethered to a track, no choice in which way it bends and curves into.

No, John Price has made every decision with intent. Has meticulously picked every single block used to build up his life. Molded the ones that had been damaged by incompetence and betrayals into solid rock for his foundation. He’s taken every step intentionally, navigated the turbulent waters to land himself right where he’s wanted. The stars had done nothing for him, he’d clawed his way there himself. 

And yet, here’s an anomaly he hadn’t accounted for. A soft sweet boy to temper out his rough edges. To run his hands over John’s brows and try to smooth out the wrinkles brought on by years of worry. Who pressed kisses to his cheek like they were something precious to him. Like John is worth something. 

When he’s at the receiving end of such care John has to wonder who sent him such a sweet thing. 

He knows he hasn’t earned it. Knows his hands have dripped blood, some of which had been wrongly spilled. Liquid sin staining the ivory of his hands before returning to the dirt. Hands like his should not be near his sweet boy. Should not be sullying his skin.

But years of restraint, bound to militaristic standards, years of depriving himself have made him hungry. He can’t help but chase selfishly for your touch, to bury his nose into you and breathe deeply, have his senses overwhelmed by you. Let himself be pressed so close to you it makes you squeal. He bats away your hands when you protest that you’ll hurt him, just pulls you closer onto him.

It’s pressed closely to you, your head laying on his chest, your warmth seeping into him and the cushions of the couch, that he thinks about fate again. He entertains the idea of the stars for once. Wondered for a split second if it was fate that he’d meet you or if he somehow clawed that to him as well.

- ooooo fancy flashback -

He thinks the universe is fucking with him when he spots you. Bitterness rising in the back of his throat as he watches from down the aisle. The laughter of the boys still rings in the back of his head, trading joyous stories of families with each other. It’s the one thing he’d neglected in this life. Any semblance of a family forgotten, problems needed solving and John made the sacrifice. For the greater good, he tells himself, it had to be done.

It’s what he mutters to himself whenever he remembers the chill of his flat back home. What he repeats when he wakes up to the chill of the air creeping up underneath his sheets, the bed empty next to him. 

It’s cruel for the universe to tempt him here. With a boy he just knows is a match for him, hidden away in a city in some landlocked piece of America. Kept secret from him by oceans, borders, and the vastness of America. Yet, here you are within reach. He tightens his hand on the handle of the six pack, the least offensive one he could find, and just watches. 

You're oblivious to the turmoil he’s in. Unaware of the silent battle that rages within him as his body fights to step towards you but his mind keeps him locked in place. All while you compare shaving cream brands for god’s sake. It’d be ridiculous if John hadn’t been starving for someone like you. If his mouth hadn’t dried, if his brain was still working the way it should. 

His feet only move when you float into the next aisle, mind, and body intent on keeping his eyes on you. He still keeps his distance, fiddling with the containers on his end of the aisle. The unfamiliarity of the products throws him for a moment, what the hell is sofrito? You thrive in it, grabbing what he assumes are your essentials seeing how you pick them while barely glancing at them. 

The casualness of your shopping is what gives him his opening. Your fingers grasp the long neck of a glass bottle, pulling it to you with ease. But, for whatever reason, it slips through your fingers and hurtles through the floor. John’s body moves on autopilot, the same it did when Soap had hurtled a knife towards an insubordinate officer. Soap had thrown it as a fear tactic, path angled to avoid harm. But he knows the bottle will absolutely shatter, shards cutting through the fabric of your pants, piercing skin, and staining the fabric with your own crimson life. He can’t have that.

He catches it before it makes contact with the ground, hand hovering a few centimeters above the ground before he straightens himself. 

“Careful with glass sweetheart. Can’t have pretty things like you damaged.” 

Your widened eyes blink before your face transforms in front of him. Your beautifully surprised expression morphs into a scowl, hand adjusting the grip on the basket. 

“I’m not a girl.”

John can only raise an eyebrow at you, eyes running over you without permission. He’s well aware. 

“Didn’t take you for one lad.” 

He lets it sit out in the open for a moment to gauge your response. You merely blink, the scowl easing a bit, the creases between your eyebrows dropping from three to one. Not what you were expecting. Well, you weren’t either, soft face hiding a rather fiery attitude from the looks of it. Someone had definitely put you here for him.

He offers you the bottle, “Trying to tell me that lads can’t be sweet too? Can’t be pretty?” 

It’s been years but he’s been around his boys enough. Kept his wit about him, clearly something that’ll help him win your favor. Likes the way his questions make your lips press inward, like you’re fighting a smile. He lets his eyes roam over you again. 

You lick your lips before responding, “Sorry. Just force of habit.”

John hums, “Nothing to be sorry for love. Like the boys who stand their ground.”

He sees you sway a little, shuffle backward just a little as you try to work out the meaning of his words. Your little inhale tells him you’re enjoying the attention. But you’re still fiddling with the basket, curling and uncurling your fingers on the handles. He doesn’t prod for a response, lets his eyes drift to the contents of your basket. It’s not the what that catches his attention, emboldens him a little more, but just how much of each item there is. He’s no expert but the mere fact you’ve got a basket tells John you’re not shopping for two. The lack of a band on your finger and objections to his comments fill in the rest of the gaps for him.

He can’t help himself, “Feel like I owe you something as an apology, for making you feel there was any need for clarification.”

He watches the silent battle you have, gnawing on your lip as you mull over his proposition. Your eyes flick down to the pack in his hand, “If that’s what you’re offering to share I think I’ll pass.” 

He grins back at you, hip cocking a bit while he looks down at you, “Can always take you somewhere acceptable for your more refined palette.”

You huff out a laugh, your basket finally landing in the ownership of your left hand. “Sorry sir, I’m not one for too many outings. More of a homebody.” You smile politely before your turn and start moving away from him. 

He tries not to dwell too much on the energy that shoots up his spine at your use of sir. Doesn’t even think twice before he follows behind you.

“Bit of a homebody myself love. Just a bit further from mine at the moment.”

“That why you have that pack of piss in your hands?”

He shrugs at your back, “Not too familiar with these plains, makes it difficult to find good liquor.”

You snort at that, “Guess you need a local to show you where to find the good stuff.” 

He comes to a stop right behind you, grinning at you as you turn to face him again, “That a yes to my offer then?”

Your shrug, attempt nonchalance, “We’ll see how movie night goes.”

Somehow he doesn’t fuck it up. He sees you once, investigated thoroughly by the black void that greets him at the door. He sees you again, a third time, and more. He beds you, marks you, and finally claims you as his own. You had him claimed since the beginning.

- ooooo back to the present -

He tightens his grip on you just a little, pressing a kiss to your forehead. The prickly sensation causes you to stir, eyes blinking slowly as you gain awareness of where you are. He hooks his fingers into the fabric to secure you to him. 

“Everything okay?” You mumble out sleepily.

He gives you another kiss, you hum happily against his chest. 

“Got you in my arms sweetheart, everything's perfect.”

[coyote-with-a-keyboard]

birthday suprise!

a/n: I don’t write for price much- but yknow- it’s for my MOOTS BIRTHDAY! HI ALEC! @rodolfoparras this is super late

Minors; don’t interact -FtmPrice in more feminine clothing warning❓

Price, being the meticulous man he always was, had your birthday saved in his mind for months with plans and plans galor, of how he’d spend a whole the whole day treating you to everything from breakfast to dinner- of course not planning to waste a single second away from you

sadly, his job had other plans and he had been deployed the week of without a single warning. He was livid, and apologized more times than he could count when he left, but he still felt guilt bubble up in his gut when he thought of how he had left you. He tried to wrap up the mission as fast as he could- antsy and tired and covered in blood and sweat for most of the week..

he finally arrived home, the very few hours of your birthday fading into the night as he sighed and rested his head in his hands on the plane back. 10, it was 10 at night when he got back to your shared home… he felt utterly horrid- he showered, tossed off his uniform, and laid on the bed with a deep groan, the mattress shifting under his movement which caused you to wake up groggily, soft kisses peppering your jaw and neck, his mutton hips tickling your neck

“.. ‘m sorry, really sorry.” Price mumbled sleepily as he curled up and fell asleep wrapped up right next to you

you woke up to what might be the best morning on this earth, price straddled on your lap, in a pretty lingerie you don’t remember buying in the past- pink and flush against his skin with very little hidden. He kissed you softly, whining and wanting to make you feel as loved as you could. He scooted down a bit, his eyes looking directly up to you as he undid your belt and kissed your tip with a sharp smile ghosting over his lips before he slowly- painfully slowly stretched his lips around your cock and hollowed out his cheeks until his nose was against your pubes. His throat was tightening around you and his lashes got wet with little tears

he looked perfect. Utterly perfect. Whining and holding your hips as he licked up the underside of your member before sliding back down to choke on you, sticky lines of spit and pre sliding out of the corners of his mouth and getting stuck in his muttonchops. He just wanted to make you feel good. He could feel your hands gripping into his hair and bucking up into his throat, and it was an addicting kind of feeling- the slight lack of air and the look on your face making his brain go fuzzy and warm, in all honesty he viewed this just as much a gift to himself as it was a gift to you. He rutted against the bed slightly, his lingerie slick and sticking against him from sweat and his own arousal

all the sensations of pain and pleasure mixing around in his brain and making his nerves jump and electrify, he felt you cumming in his throat, a taste that he swallowed happily, and whined a bit under his breath as he felt you pull away, looking at you with a blissfully mind fucked look, his eyes half shut. He jumped a bit when he felt you tug aside the bottoms of his lingerie, the sensation of two of your fingers sliding into him giving him little time to grasp the sheets for purpose. He bit his lip to hold in some utterly pathetic whines, trying not to squirm while your calloused fingertips curled just right inside of him and your lips met his T-dick, your free hand holding his big burly thighs open to stop him from crushing you head by accident.

his body tensed and his eyes rolled back in his skull as you did your best to please him too, hand moving from his thighs to his hips and up to run through the hair coating over his chest and tattoo covered scars below his pecs, humming all the while. He came quite quick, scooting away from overstimulation and muddled aftershock, letting your head rest on his stomach as his hands ran through your hair.

his late birthday gift to you in all honesty felt more like a gift to himself, but you clearly enjoyed it just as much as he did

[bi--tboy]

Friendly Fraternization- 141 x FtM!Reader, Part 2 Wash Your Mouth Out with Soap

Reader is up late from a nightmare when he sees Soap in the sparring room. Soap admits he’s been curious since that night at the bar. Reader and Soap gay wrestle about it, soap gets a blowjob from it.

Soap was the first to bring up his feelings. It was late at night; you had woken up from a bad dream. You figured the best thing to do at this hour was get a workout in to expel the pent-up energy the nightmare gave you. Unsurprisingly, the gym was empty, giving you full access to the sparing area’s equipment. After working up a decent sweat on the treadmill, you decided to do a quick wind-down stretch. As you reached to touch your toes, ass facing the entrance, you heard the door click and boots shuffling. Soap cleared his throat in surprise.

“Ahem! I-I wasn’t expecting to see you here!” he chuckled nervously.

You went into another stretch pose. “I had a nightmare,” you offered, “why are you up?”

“Insomnia’s a bitch. Were you, uh, headed out?”

You contemplated. While you felt drowsiness setting in, Soap looked like he had something on his mind, and you wanted to hear it. You stood to match his gaze. “I’m just getting started.”

Soap let out a breath you hadn’t realized he was holding. “I’m glad, actually. Sometimes, when we can’t sleep, Simon ‘n’ I will spar together. He’s sleepin’ like a log though, so I didn’t know what I’d do tonight. Woul’j’ya like to spar with me?” You agreed and felt your pulse quicken.

Though you had been brushing it off, you couldn’t deny that the looks shared between you and the rest of the 141 had made you feel more heated recently. Seeing Johnny here, you took extra notice of his defined body and sleep-tousled hair. Knowing you would soon get your hands on him made your stomach flip.

After Johnny warmed up, you both stepped into the sparing area. What started as basic drill practice soon became more lighthearted and playful; just two hairy, sweaty boys getting their energy out. To an outsider, the view wasn’t all too different than seeing two dogs playing at a park. The excitement of sparing was pumping through your veins and you knew your eyes had the same wild look in them as Johnny’s. He lunged for your midsection, trying to bring you down to the mat. Your arms grabbed his and you flipped, landing yourself in his lap. You pinned his wrists to the mat in dominance, face right above Johnny. In your triumphant position, you noticed you felt something firm underneath you. Johnny frantically wiggled under you causing you to release your grip. You both sheepishly sat up, not knowing what would come next.

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t be” you assured. There was a pause where neither of you spoke, or made eye contact. Johnny fidgeted a bit.

“Hey, can…can I tell you something?”

If your stomach flipped before, it just did a cartwheel. But you stayed casual. “what’s up?”

“Since that night at the bar, I’ve been thinking about what you said- about not seeing a difference between a fella or a lady?”

You felt your brain short circuit as that memory came rushing back to you now. Right. That’s when the looks from the boys started too. You tucked away that knowledge to hear Johnny out.

“I guess it’s just got me thinking. I know I like women, that’s easy,” he chuckled to himself, “But how can I know for sure I don’t like men too? So I started, ahem, exploring, but it’s just made me more confused! I couldn’t go to the other guys about this, and I noticed-,” he stammered, rubbing his neck “I started to notice you more, and-”

“Johnny,” you cut off his spiraling with a gentle hand on his calf. “Do you want to know for sure?”

He blushed deeply and nodded. “Yes,” he breathed.

You smiled warmly as you drew closer to him. “We can find out together,” you whispered in his ear.

“I-I’m not ready for, uh, the full experience,” Johnny confessed.

“That’s okay,” you hummed. Trailing your hand closer to the bulge in his sleep shorts. The drag of your fingers over his leg hair made him shiver. “We’ll do what you’re comfortable with.” You gave him a squeeze, earning a gasp.

“I want your mouth,” the words tumbled out before he seemed to think.

“What’s the magic word?” you purred. Maybe you were getting drunk off the power you held over him, but how often do you get to fuck the sexy straight(?) guy?

Johnny looked you in the eye; his fire was back. “Please.”

“Let me kiss you before I suck you off,” you giggled cupping his face. He drew you in for a kiss much more heated than you anticipated. You met his energy, deepening the kiss. All his shyness about his bicuriousity melted away as he fell back into the motions that he’s done so many times before. Except this time, he felt the stubble of the person he was kissing rubbing against his own. He whimpered into the kiss. He stoked your torso, grounding you both.

Dimly, you realized you weren’t out to him about being trans. You weighed breaking the moment to disclose. You had a feeling that coming out to Johnny about transitioning right now would make him ask questions about gender and sexuality you didn’t feel like answering. Besides, if he wasn’t ready to go all the way, you didn’t have too either. Next time. You thought. You realized you already hoped there would be a next time.  

Your hand crept to Johnny’s waistband to free him out of his shorts. He flexed as he felt you grasp him; his firmness and warmth were welcome. As you held him, you swore you could feel his pulse even down here. You checked in one more time to make sure he was ready. When he consented, you adjusted to lay between his spread muscular thighs in a way that would hide your crotch; though your boner wasn’t visible like his, it was just as raging.

You took him like it was nothing, falling into a comfortable rhythm. Gay sex might be new to Johnny, but neither of you were virgins. You didn’t mind when his hand rested on your head, guiding your pace. His voice turned you on, with each moan he produced earning a moan from you, vibrations thrumming through his cock which would make him react again. You lowered onto him particularly hard, making Johnny grab your hair tighter and thrust, and you sputter. You moaned louder than either of you had expected.

Johnny threw his eyebrows up. “Yeah? You like it a little rough?”

You dislodged from him blushed and panting. “Fuck yeah, I’m a slut for it,” you voice was deeper and had more gravel than it did when you started

Johnny came in for a kiss and stood, helping you kneel in front of him. He guided your mouth back to his cock with a firmer grasp and set a rougher pace. “Naughty boy. You ought to wash your mouth out with Soap” he laughed as he found a home in your throat. If you weren’t already choking on his dick, you would’ve gagged at his cocky wordplay.

You focused on breathing through your nose as you let Soap use you. One hand wrapped around his hip to bring him even closer. You wanted to show him you could take it; show him how men do it. His excited moan showed you just how much he loved it. Your other hand trailed into your own waistband. Coming out be damned, you needed to get off on this too.

Soap called out your name. “I-I’m close,” he announced. You moaned in response, fastening your grip on him. There’s no way you’re letting him stop now. He was pushing your limit with every thrust and you couldn’t get enough. Your hand that was stroking your own cock moved faster as you fixated on Johnny cumming down your throat. It took a moment for you to realize those desperate whimpers you were hearing came from both of you.

“Fuck!!” Johnny came with a cry and drove his hips forward. His warmth filled your mouth and you swallowed it all without a thought. As he fed you his cum you felt yourself tense with orgasm as well. When your climaxes ebbed away, Johnny released your mouth but still held your face tenderly. You didn’t know a soldier could have so much affection in his eyes.

“So? Do you know for sure?” you rasped.

Johnny chuckled in a way that made you clench. “Think I’ll have to try it again. Y’know, just to be really sure.”

[gofishygo]

[cxrsedeclipse]

Thinking about Trans!Soap completing a mission and taking a shower in his quarters, just thinking about you and your arms, thighs, cock, body in general and fingering that pretty hole of his, the wetness of his cunt mixing with the shampoo.

Thinking about Trans!Soap coming to your quarters to cuddle, burying his face into your neck and nuzzling into you, all to end up rubbing his clothed cunt against your boxer’s bulge, letting out quiet moans and whines into your ear and humping you till he makes a wet spot in both his and your boxers.

Thinking about Trans!Soap kissing all over your chest, trailing down the kisses to your stomach and to your abs, kissing down your happy trail as he sucks at the wet spot on your boxers, rubbing his needy wet pussy through his own boxers.

Thinking about Trans!Soap pulling your boxers down and riding you even though you’re exhausted and about to fall asleep, bouncing up and down your cock and adjusting the position for you to hit that pretty little sweet spot and won’t stop until you cum multiple times or protest.