#gaz looking at the camera like he’s on the office

[cod-dump]

Ghost, eating dinner: Yeah, can you believe it? Soap fuckin saved me a seat.

Gaz: Uh... yeah?

Ghost: I told him no, obviously. Can't think about that kinda stuff right before an op.

Gaz: Uh huh...

Ghost: Me n my subordinate? In carnal embrace? Nah, not fuckin happening.

Gaz:

Ghost: Pass the butt stuff.

Gaz: O_O

Ghost: THE BUTTER. THE BUTTER. I just want some head and butter--BREAD. BREAD AND BUTTER.

Gaz:

Ghost: BREAD AND BUTT SEX FOR THIS BIG PIECE OF MEAT I'M EATING--FUCK DAMMIT--!

Gaz: You feelin okay, mate?

[forsworned]

I just got a great idea. Imagine the teenage dirt bag trend with 141, where reader is chill and laid back, and as 141 and reader are in the break room, gaz or soap ask reader about her life before the military and she just goes to her office to get some photos of her and her friends in their teens, smoking weed and in some she has some sick piercings and a skater, or maybe even a motorcycle. I don't even know. I'm just rambling. You can write it if you want but if you don't want to then feel free to ignore me 🫶🏼🙆🏻‍♀️

author's note: and a great idea you have indeed :) i gotchuuu and im so sorry this took me forever to get to

tags: poly 141 antics, cheeky banter, and a lil flirting with the boys ;)

Breakfast is a fan favorite amongst the 141, especially when it involves the sweet and savory aroma of coffee, pancakes, eggs, and your famous potato hash—a dish that's practically a cult fave within the team. As you settle in your seat between Johnny and Kyle with your coffee mug in your hand, the group is chatting about their former glory days before they joined the military.

Johnny nudges you with a playful smirk, still noshing on a piece of toast. "So, hen, ye look like ye had a bit of a wild streak back in the day, aye? Bet ye were a right wee devil." His tone is teasing, laced with curiosity as his cerulean gaze lingers on you.

You roll your eyes at him, but before you can respond, Kyle chimes in, his tone equally teasing, "Yeah, you look like the type who got up to all sorts of dodgy stuff. Proper troublemaker, I reckon. C'mon love, spill the beans." He nudges with a grin.

Price looks over his newspaper at double trouble across the table, before turning the page, causing you to chuckle. "Well," you fish out your phone from your pocket and everyone leans forward in their seats as you scroll through your camera roll. You stop at an album and tap on it before rotating the screen to face them and they can't help the excited noises that leave their mouths.

"No way!" Johnny exclaims, his grin widens as he spots a photo of you leaning against a cherry red muscle car. "Is that a 1967 Chevrolet Camaro!?" Kyle chirps, taking your phone from you and you laugh at their reactions. That gets Price's attention and he leans over to get a gander of the rebellious glint in your eye and the streaks of red fashioned into your hair.

"Christ," He beams down at the photo and then up at you. "looks like you were quite the rebel, eh? No wonder these two pillocks won't stop botherin' ya."

Kyle lets out a whistle as he swipes to the next photo, showcasing you with a cigarette hanging between your lips, clad in a skimpy bikini, leaning against your palms on a beach on a sunlit beach with the sunset casting a tangerine glow. "Cheeky."

Johnny's eyes ream at the photo, taking you in your exposed form. "Aye, look at ye!" His cheeks flush as he tilts his head, peeking up at you. "I gotta give it ya, lassie, yer quite the stunner."

"And still are." Price adds, raising his eyebrows at you. You fluster at his kind words, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Thank you,"

"Oi! Look at this one!" Johnny points to the screen again, having a good laugh. You lean into Kyle and giggle at the photo. Grin as wide as your face with an alligator's jaw clamped shut between your hands. "That cannot be real!"

"It's really not as wild as it looks. I was on vacation in Florida, and a local wildlife park had this little show where they let you hold and pose with a baby alligator. They made sure everything was safe and supervised. Super fun."

Price cocks an amused brow at you, sipping his coffee. "Baby alligator, eh? You're quite the thrill seeker."

"Yeahhh, not much has changed." Kyle ribs and the others laugh. It's true though. You were actively pursuing that adrenaline rush, so it didn't come as much of a surprise to them, especially not Simon.

As the laughter dies down, Simon, who was quietly enjoying his tea and observing the situation unfold finally speaks up, "You lot are gettin' too chuffed over this, but I gotta admit..." He leans back, his dark eyes fixate on you and you can't help but take notice of how his mask is scrunched up under his nose, revealing the pale pink of his lips. "Never quite pegged you for a lil rascal. Bet you gave your folks a right headache."

He prods the phone out of Johnny's hand and takes a look at the other photos they were scrolling through and softly snorting at what looks like an image of you on stage, strumming at a guitar and singing your heart out. "But I reckon that's what makes you fit in so will with these bunch of nutters." His lips quirk into a faint smile as he hands you back your phone and goes back to munching on his eggs. "Ain't it always the quiet ones you gotta watch out for?"

Your cheeks blossom with warmth at his comment and the cute little smile that adorns his handsome face. "Well, I didn't think I was all that quiet." You poke your tongue in your cheek, gently prying the phone out of his hands.

His finger seems to biff at your screen as it clatters out of your grasp because his onyx eyes widen at the photo. Skin exposed, revealing the ink that embellishes your lower left hip in delicate, intricate patterns as you're posing sexy for the camera. Your heart plunges to your ass at the realization of it not being in your hidden album.

"Oh—that's, uhhh" You stammer swiftly, locking your phone and shoving it back into your pocket. Your tongue swipes at your lips as you avert your gaze, but Simon takes note of how you nervously twiddle with the spoon as it clatters against the walls of your mug.

Simon's eyes linger on you for a moment longer before he returns to his tea, "well, well, well..."

The rest of the team is still buzzing with the excitement of your heydays as they detect the slight change in atmosphere.

"Oi, what's all of this about, then?" Johnny asks with a mouth full of food. "Give us the scoop!"

But the Scotsman is getting scolded by Price and Kyle for not keeping his mouth shut while he eats. A sheepish smile adorns his lips, rubbing the back of his neck as he apologizes. Simon chuckles, and shakes his head, "Nothin' worth spillin', Johnny. Just a bit of a laugh."

Of course that earns some groans from them, but you can't help but bite your bottom lip and grin when Simon gives you a knowing look. Some secrets are best kept between friends.

masterlist

[diejager]

@warenai gave me the juiciest idea.

Draw Cw: smut, porn, prostitution, P in V, creampie, jealousy, handjob, mating press, voyeurism, tell me if I missed any.

part 2

There was a silent understanding between the three of them after that whole fiasco, Ghost and Soap demanding answers from their captain on their own time. Ghost confronted Price in his office that night, body still hot and bothered from your live but wracked with cold sweat from finding out that Price was your third, highest donator. Price hadn’t expected him, neither did Price expect him to find out about his little secret, the thing he spent his money on, but when Soap stopped him outside of the base, he wasn’t surprised then. Ghost had told him about everything, how both he and Soap were members of your OnlyFans, devoted and loyal, only using the site to watch you.

Whether it bothered Gaz that they kept having silent conversations through side glances and open staring, he hadn’t voiced his confusion or curiosity, he stayed outside of this struggle to catch your attention. For all they knew, only the three of them knew you and enjoyed the content, spending their nights jerking off at your sweet voice and beautiful body dressed in all kinds of things. Gaz seemed none the wiser, acting as he usually did, smiling gently, taking care of his strict skin routine, trimming his moustache and caring for his favourite cap.

Yet, he seemed so energetic today, exhuming happiness and giddiness while the others looked dejected, shoulders slumped lower and sighing disappointedly. It was suspicious, for Gaz to act out of character, especially after your announcement of an anonymous winner of your draw, choosing at random one of your patrons to host a live with, letting them fuck you as they dreamed to. Unfortunately, you hadn’t told the public to protect the winner’s identity until the live, you would contact them directly for a day and time.

They seethed in silence, a storm of jealousy stewing in their guts while Gaz smiled and laughed to his phone, eyes glued to his screen and fingers tipping away as if he was in a rush to answer the person he was messaging. It went on like this for a while, a week before Gaz asked for a few days of leave, packing his rucksack with clothes and toiletries with the prettiest and newest clothes he had. Soap had teased him about leaving and dressing pretty for a date, that he’d been texting the girl who caught his heart for a wile now.

They forgot about Gaz after he left, happy for him and curious but not involving themselves into his business, until they got opened up your live after they got the notification about it starting in a few minutes. The watched you smile, wave at the camera, manicured nails gleaming under the soft, yellow light of a hotel room. You changed the location of stage, a comfortable looking hotel room with a queen bed and silken sheets. The highlight of this live - like every other - was you, dressed in a pretty, satin shirt fitting your dark navy teddy, the same shade under warm lights.

You sat on the bed, legs open and flashing the dark patch of your underwear, darkened with slick from earlier foreplay with your guest —the lucky bastard. You made the same introduction, a smile and wave, followed by welcoming them with your stage name, but this time, you reached out for someone off screen, fingers locking with a caramel one, thick fingers with calloused pads, the person who won the draw was lean but still muscular, his arms and thighs curved and abdomen hard. He wore a familiar mask —a skull painted balaclava.

“This is GazCan,” you pulled the man down to him hands and knees, pressing kisses against his gleaming chest, lips wandering up his throat and he’s masked cheek, “He won this year’s draw.”

They knew the balaclava, how could they not when they wore it before as a team, one singular squad fighting towards one goal — it was the Ghost team mask. This was no coincidence, it all fit in with their situation: Gaz had been overly enthusiastic and happy for a week, his sudden ask for days-worth leave and all the neatly folded clothes and skin care.

This winner was Gaz. They were watching Gaz finger you, pumping two of his fingers into your slick cunt, drooling over his palm for everyone to see and hear, the lewd and wet sound of his hand. They watched Gaz fuck you raw, folding you in half, knees to your ears and feet dangling over his shoulders as he snapped his hips, pounding you into the hotel bed and whispering filthy things into your ear. Your swollen folds puffing around his cock, hair trimmed and clean, veins bulging out as he drove in, were in full view of the camera, letting them watch how well Gaz was breeding you.

They boiled with jealousy, being forced to watch one of them feel you, taste you, fuck you. Gaz made you sign for them, mewls and keens rising high from how well he pleasured you, the pointed tip of his cock hitting your spongy cervix and veins rubbing against your g-spot. He was a mix of gentle sex and domination, keeping his hands on you and bending you to his liking, manhandling you to fit his wild fantasies and you liked it.

Despite seeing someone they knew fuck you, that didn’t stop them from coming, spreading their cum over their cock and jerking out the rest of it against their bed and desk. It drove them wild thinking that they could’ve been the one filling you up with their load rather than Gaz, his white jizz bubbling out of your twitching cunny and rolling down your perky rim.

“GazCan, is it, sergeant?” Price cock his brow, lip pursed and arms crossed, he looked so stern as he stared Gaz down.

“Captain,” Gaz smiled back, shamelessly comfortable with his date being shared in the briefing room, then he turned to Ghost, “Ghostie,” and to Soap, “SexiSoap, not exactly subtle.”

Part 4

Tag list: @warenai @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @im-making-an-effort @cutiecusp @ladyof-themoon @yourdaydreamerfan

[simonriley09]

Crying prank on TF141 + Valeria & König <3

Setting up a camera behind a picture of SIMON before pretending to cry into the pillow, waiting for him to come out of his study room. Simon hearing the cries and dropping everything to bolt out of the study and pounces on you, pulling you onto his lap and rubbing your back. All he says is "Who did it. I'll kill them." before you burst out laughing into his chest making him sigh and realize youre pranking him. "Jeez luv, givin me a heart attack won't end well f'you." You looked at him confused before realizing he's not gonna give you mercy in bed later... oops... Pranking PRICE by crying in your office which is next to his makes him stand up and walk over to yours, practically kicking the door open and grabbing your shoulder, turning you around and hugging you before you try so hard not to laugh, Price is oblivious until he see's the camera and groans. "Are you serious lovie?, tryna prank me while m'workin'?" He delivers a harsh spank to your ass before going back to his office, leaving you needy and wanting more. SOAP hearing you cry in your room from the home gym made him drop the fucking bar on his chest for a second before putting it down and bolting to your room, jumping onto your bed and spooning you, kissing your head. "M'here bird, ws' wrong?" He looked over at you and saw the sly grin you tried to contain under your hands and laughed. "You're prankin' me aye?! Sneaky rat!" He was laughing until your burst out laughing too, hugging him as you both had a moment for laughing. Soap let out a content sigh before speaking again. "Y'do realize i dropped a weight on my chest out of shock yeah?" You looked up at him in shock before removing his shirt and kissing the forming bruises on his chest. Soap couldn't stop his cock chubbing up from the sight. GAZ who see's you put on make-up to make it look like you're crying but decides to play along, Listening to your fake cry before rushing over to you, acting caring before tickling you making you laugh loudly and plead for him to stop. "Think i didn't notice the camera, Huh?" You were shocked that he even knew but you couldn't stop laughing from the tickling until Gaz suddenly threw your legs over his shoulders and pressed a slow kiss to your clit, making your thighs tighten around his neck.

VALERIA who notices you crying from the other side of the room and picks you up, putting her on your lap and her face in your neck, kissing your collarbone. "What's wrong Mi Amor? Why are you crying?" You shivered from the kiss and Valeria felt your small grin into her neck and figure it out quickly. "Just wanted my attention huh? Impressive.." Her hands gripped your hips, nipping at your neck and collarbone just to get you worked up. KÖNIG who jumps out of his bed, stumbling a bi and groggy from sleep hearing you cry in the kitchen made him run so fast he fell down the stairs which immediately made you run to the stairs and see him laying there half asleep, bleary eyed and slowly getting up. You helped him up and when you saw the black eye he got from falling you felt guilty. "Maus, warum... Why are you crying?" When you told him you were pranking him he realized and giggled a bit, patting you on the head. At night you felt so guilty that you ended up giving him toe curling head.

[starzshopoflove]

Worlds biggest snoop

Soap is nosy as fuck and drags poor Gaz into his nonsense, Ghost just misses you.

Notes: fem reader! sfw mostly ,size kink if you squint, literally just me projecting onto reader, Soap is nosy, drabble! (WC:936)

Okay, it was bound to happen eventually. Simons on deployment and his poor little civilian girlfriend is left all alone in her little bookshop while he's away on base. Of course he told you before he left and, you both made sure to spend plenty of time together on dates (and in bed)

You send him off with plenty of hugs and kisses reminding him to call whenever he has time and not to forget to take care of himself. Simon would probably keep a few photos of you in his gallery in a locked album that he looks at every night before sleeping once he’s called you.

This man is so paranoid, he even changes his wallpaper. It was a photo of you holding a pie you both made together ( he stood on the side reading the instructions while you did all the work bc you were to scared he would mess with the dough, this man has lived off of mre’s and meat his ass can NOT bake) with a little ghost dough shape baked on the top. Now its just a picture of a pile of books with your glasses on the top of the stack. Easy enough to pass off as a nice photo and still something to remind him of you.

He makes sure he has no trace of you on him once he's on base. Save for the one picture he has of you both holding a big bouquet of flowers side by side, he's staring at you stare at the camera like a love sick puppy, while you're smiling so wide your eyes are shut. That's the only thing he will keep on him, if he dies on the field he wants the last thing he sees to be you. Other than that he risks nothing.

Plain clothes that don't have your smell, none of the fancy lotions you’ve forced him to use, none of the little trinkets you slip in his pocket, none of the little letters you've slipped in his bag (He saved those to read when he came back).

Nothing.

But he was bound to fuck up eventually no?

Soap was the first to get nosy. His LT was never this calm or relaxed on deployment. He rushed a little more to get to his office each night. What was even weirder is he would lock the door this time, he never locked the door.

So of course he started taking matters into his own hands. Standing behind Ghost when he was sitting down on his phone, once he even saw him scroll past the locked album. He didn't open it of course. He never opened that unless he was alone, but he scrolled past it and Soap could see the album title.

Your Initial with a heart next to it.

This is when all the bells actually went off in his head. At first he thought Ghost finally went to therapy (LMAO NO) or maybe picked up a hobby (DOUBLE NO), but heart emojis? What on Gods green earth had moved thee Ghost to using a heart emoji

Soap was sticking like glue to Simon, reluctantly he tolerated this. Except of course when 9pm rolled around and he was kicking him out of the office. 

“Come on Lt, what you gettin 'rid ‘f me for? Not like yer gonna wank in the office yeah?” 

“Get out” 

“Aw come on can't spare ya favorite sargent a couple hours to entertain?”

Soap was whining at this point just being an annoying little shit to try and break him.

“Out”

Ghost just dragged him out by the collar like a misbehaved kitten.

Making a show of it Johnny walked down the halls wailing about how Ghost must hate him and that their friendship means nothing, while Simons just watched him tumble around dramatically wrapping his arms around Gaz. 

Once he hears the click of Ghost's office door locking he instantly straightens up, face locked on like he's on a mission and arm wrapped around Gaz like iron. 

Gaz the poor boy, is verily confused watching this interaction, more confused as to why Soap is dragging him to their Lt’s door.

"C’mon”

Soap hisses pressing his ear on the door motioning Kyle to do the same. 

“Fuck is you doing?”

Gaz is looking as Soap like a child who's about to get a shot, lips pursed tightly, eyes narrowed up. Course Johnny just pulls him to press up too.

Price probably just walks past them mumbling some nonsense about kids these days ignoring it, the less he knows the better

The 2 stand there in silence for a good moment until they hear the classic dialing of a number and the shifting of what sounds like Ghost taking off his mask. 

Then, the sound of a woman's voice?

“Well you look awfully tired”

Oh my god Lt’s calling a woman

Your voice is chirpy and bright probably since you’ve got the night shift and had enough sleep to run the shop for the night. You little chitters of how your day went and questions of concern filled the room soothing Simon's nerves of whatever he was worrying about that day. 

Soap and Gaz are jaw slacked behind the door staring at each other listening to this. Lt’s bird chirping through the little phone speaker and him actually replying in full sentences in a soft warm tone they didn't know existed 

The 2 scatter before the call ends giggling to each other, well Soap giggling Gaz trying to process how Lt got a girl before him

[eyelambspider]

𝐃𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫, 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧! — 𝐂𝐎𝐃/𝐎𝐮𝐭𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫

Day 18 can you believe it? Here is a list of my prompts & event terms!

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : gn!doctor!reader x doctor!gaz, security!price + horangi, psychotic!soap + könig + ghost 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : you and a group of mount massive personnel have holed up in the security room as chaos erupts around the building. Then, your beloved patients find you, they decide its better that they keep you 'safe' instead. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 1.3 k 𝐚/𝐧 : i based this on my fking favorite game series outlast so-! 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 : blood/gore/death, swearing, yandere/possessive traits

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐄𝐃. The sirens had blared for over an hour, each smashed to pieces by howling patients or they had simply died out...

No one was coming. No one should have been coming.

You and Doctor Garrick stared in pale horror at the panel of security cameras.

Every screen was filled with scenes straight out of a horror movie. In the halls, doctors in white coats tripped over themselves fleeing in terror as patients roared in fear, smashing in the skulls of the people who had hurt them. The common rooms were filled with more docile patients, the television screen tuned to nothing but static. A few patients wheezed in pain, bandages covering their disfigured faces, while others cried quietly into themselves, simply staring off into the static. All sitting together motionlessly, seemingly immune to the horrors now ravaging Mount Massive Asylum.

The sight was enough to make you heave and turn away. Dr. Garrick quickly caught you, rubbing your back in a soothing manner as Price and Horangi stepped up to the monitors. "Fucking hell," the brit muttered, his blue eyes roving over the screens with a grimace.

With the two officers busy, you turned your head towards Gaz, eyes wide with terror, trying so hard not to tremble under his touch. "They won't send anyone! Gaz!" you whispered frantically, trying not to draw the attention of the two security guards who had pulled you two into the safety of the locked security room.

No one knew except the doctors.

The Murkoff Corporation, the company that employed everyone here had been conducting unethical experiments on the patients here... They would never allow a leak this substantial to ever get out to the public.

You and Gaz both knew it too. They wouldn't send anyone but an army of men to 'clean' up this mess.

Another wave of nausea hit you at the thought.

"Shhh, I know, I know," he muttered, glancing over his shoulder towards the two security officers, making sure they didn't overhear.

Both were equipped to handle patients, guns in their belts, the same blue shirt, black pants, badge and hat...

What would they do when they found out the truth? Would they throw the two of you out if they found out you both had no power over what happened next? Had no idea what to fucking do in this situation?

All you and Gaz knew, was that wearing a white doctors coat right now, was a death sentence.

As far as irrational thought went, it felt like the only person you could truly trust right now was the man rubbing your back.

"So what's the plan?" Price interrupted, making both you and Gaz nearly jump.

From the horrified looks on both your faces, the security officer's both got an inkling of the reality of the situation.

"We... We-we could," Gaz stumbled, trying to blurt out anything that came to mind before Price got up in his face, angry like the you had both suspected.

"You know what's happening outside those doors?!" Price's voice boomed, grabbing ahold of Gaz's collar to bring him up to his face. Although you tried to stop it, Price was strong, and forced Gaz's face to the monitors. "Those fucking lunatics will kill all of us if we don't get the fuck out of here-!"

"Wait!" You yelped, trying to calm the already deteriorating situation. "We have clearance to all floors! There's got to be a way out!" You reasoned, digging through your coat pocket to retrieve your keycard and hold it up for him to see.

Everyone seemed to stop for a moment, the tension buzzing like electricity before Horangi placed a firm hand on Price's shoulder, silently urging him to drop the doctor. "The front doors down the hall are locked," he started, the black face mask he always wore muffling his voice some.

Price finally let go of Gaz, and you protectively helped him straighten out, a nervous look on both of your faces.

"Before we got the two of you in here, there was a man in the halls," Horangi recalled eerily, taking his hand off Price to hold the straps of his belt instead. "Big fucking guy, had no nose," he muttered, "We can't go through the front doors with him there."

The front doors were on this floor, only a few halls away... but who knows what had happened in the past hour to stop the exit from being so... clear.

"That's Chris," you whispered, immediately recognizing the description of the man Price and Horangi had seen.

Chris Walker, a violent man, standing at six foot nine... He wasn't your patient, but he was infamous among the doctors here... And now, he was standing between you and potentially getting out of this hellhole.

What the hell were you all going to do?

You took a minute to think, covering your mouth in shock while the three men stood quietly, each considering that look on your face.

It looked like a plan was forming in that sharp mind of yours, and none wanted to interrupt it. Holding their breaths for what they hoped was a miracle.

"Keys," you muttered to yourself, blankly staring at the screens in front of your face whilst you held subconsciously onto Gaz's shoulder.

"They took the keys," Price tried to explain, remembering the crushed body of the guard who was supposed to have them.

"No, they always have spares," you nodded to yourself, the flimsy idea stitching itself together more coherently in your mind.

As you spiraled further into thought, more screams and violence took place outside on the screens. Each eye watching as crude traps went up, bookshelves fell over in the halls, windows broke as men pounded their bloodied hands against it...

"They always have spare keys in the subbasement," you huffed breathlessly, feeling your blood run cold at the idea.

That's where Walrider had broken out. Where this whole asylum riot had started, and now the four of you, or at least one of you had to go down there with the very keycard you held tightly in your hand.

Gaz whispered your name almost inaudibly, hand slowly slithering around your waist and pulling you behind him.

Slowly, you followed his eyes and felt cold horror run through your veins.

"Hey Doc."

"Maus."

"It's you."

There, at the bulletproof window of the security office, stood three of your patients, each doused in blood splatters and maniac grins.

John "Soap" MacTavish. His blue eyes wide with madness glared at you, standing so close to the window that his breath fogged up the glass. "Doc, I could really use your help out here..." he grinned, tapping on the window before he quickly got more infuriated by the barrier. "Open up this fucking door you bitch!" he roared, smashing his fists onto the window until a bloodied puddle had formed... and he wouldn't fucking stop.

König stood behind him, his usual black hood, the one he always felt more safe under was dripping with gore onto his bare chest. The giant of a man tilted his head acutely, his icy blue eyes flickering from your face with a softness, before they turned hard and cold when he realized there were others in the room with you. The tension apparent in the way his fists suddenly balled up into a white knuckle grip.

And Mr. Simon "Ghost" Riley stood closest to the edge of the window, watching curiously as Soap spit a mix of soft pleas for you to come out, to vulgar swears and threats if you didn't. An idea was forming in his head. Those dark orbs of his now considering the door that separated you from him. He would find a way in, or through.

To their deranged minds, their beloved doctor needed their help.

And the men in the room with you needed you alive to get out of this damned asylum.

p.s. is cross over the right word for this? what'd you think of this guys? lmk! because i honestly loved writing this!

[quillcraftconquer]

Simon, who never wanted a dog. He didn't mind dogs, always stopping to give them a quick pat on the side, and he didn't mind his friends' dogs coercing him to toss a ball for a couple of hours. He just never envisioned himself owning a dog. He spent too much time away from home, and god forbid if anything happened to him, who would even take his dog? 

Still, despite all of his unanswered questions, when he met the tan, leggy stray on a mission that followed him around like he already owned it, he couldn't help but feed it scraps from his dinner, let it sit too close, talk to it whenever everyone else went to bed. 

It wasn't a cute dog. Its body was nicked with tiny scars from its time spent on the streets, and Simon was well aware of the bugs running through its scruffy fur. Its legs were far too tall for its body, accompanied by a small, pointed head with ears too big that stood up when something caught its eye, or drooped comically low when he was relaxed. 

Price complained relentlessly about the “damn dog” that followed Simon to every dinner, whining and scratching at the door when they went to bed, always under their feet while he was trying to walk around the base. It wasn’t until he walked into the showers, making eye contact with Simon and Gaz knelt on the floor, the damn dog enjoying the last remnants of hot water and the empty box of flea medicine tilted against the wall that he knew it was a losing battle, the dog was going to stick around. 

Simon, who didn't want a dog, but spent more money than he had on anything else to bring it home, buy it a nice bed, and a thick leather collar. 

It wasn’t until he stood in the vet's office, watching you run the metal tag through the engraving machine with his information on it that he realized the dog was his. Simon told himself he came here because you were nice to his dog, not commenting on his unique looks or bad behaviors, and how your eyes didn't linger on the dog's scars (or his, foregoing the masks when he did stop in.)

You, of course, didn't mind Simon’s gruff exterior, the way he mumbled ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to your questions, but talked extensively when it came to his dog.You laughed at the way Simon’s nose crinkled when you discussed neutering, or different training methods. You said nothing when Simon would always answer “Not my dog, just a stray.”, but always paid for the best food, treats, and care, almost as if he was convincing himself the dog wasnt going to stick around (because what did in Simon’s life?)

You especially didn't mind when Simon brought up boarding, stating he had to leave for a few weeks. You jumped at the chance, determined to show him that his dog could learn just a few house manners. You let him drop the dog off at your home, gave him access to the cameras, let him survey the yard. 

And if you had known, you wouldn't have minded the late nights Simon was halfway across the world, laying on some shitty bed with security cameras pulled up, watching the dog- his dog- take its signature 3 circles before plopping down on the outdoor couch next to you. 

It was for the dog, he told himself. It definitely didn't have to do with the too tight, too short christmas pajamas you wore in, yes, June, (he had to check the calendar, feeling like he had somehow missed 6 months of the year.) It didn't have to do with the way your fingers lazily dragged over the dog's fur, or the way you pinched the bridge of your nose when the dog tore up another cushion Simon would replace. 

Simon’s thumb punched the side of the phone, the screen darkening as he laid it against his chest, eyes staring up at the darkened ceiling.

It was just about the dog.

[shotmrmiller]

So I've been thinking about an au where the 141 are basically the only cops/law enforcement in a small town. And reader has just moved in, and for one reason or another, somehow manages to capture the attention of soap. He tries to flirt but she's not interested, and every time she turns him down, she'd suddenly slapped with a ticket. (It's not that he isn't handsome, bc he certainly is... it's just that he kinda gives off manic vibes...)

Completely illegal and immoral, reader goes to the station to complain to his captain about his obsessive behavior, but his captain is kinda like "boys will be boys, if you were a little nicer to him, this wouldn't have happened in the first place" type shit (bc price is also bullying flirting with a different harassed shy school teacher).

Soon after meeting with price and "tattling" on soap, you start to notice his lumbering, stoic coworker trailing you everywhere. He nearly gives you a heart attack when he catches up to you one night and demands you "play noice wiv jawny" bc he's been moping around their flat "like a roight twat" and he's sick and tired of his whining. (Ghost kinda wants you to kick up a fuss bc he's been itching to use policy brutality to wrangle you into his trunk, so he's a little disappointed when you just stare up at him wide-eyed with your purse between you like a makeshift shield.)

After weeks of this stalking and harassment, you happen upon another officer helping an old lady across the street. He's a new face you haven't seen (he's just been off training new recruits the next town over), so you rush to him and explain the situation. He looks so gentle and kind, so it's a complete whiplash when he says "ah yeah, the fellas told me about soap's new girl, nice to finally meet you!" As you stand there gobsmacked, he tuts softly and his gentle gaze turns a touch sharper. "You know, I bet cap would be willing to forget all those tickets, if you just went on a date with his sargent. Whaddya say, one little date couldn't hurt?" (Gaz is trying to usher you off bc he's so eager to get back home and watch the live feed from the cameras he installed in his victim's girlfriend's house from the next town over.)

that's so disgusting cuz i had been thinking of one mr. 141 cop who just keeps pulling you over and how many times must it take for you to realize it's not mere coincidence??? he's willing to listen to any suggestion you might have to take off those tickets and whenever you need the body cam off just let him know.

[chamomiletealeaf]

sory if this is asked already buttttt🍑

yk that trend where girls stand next to cops/soldiers etc and do the "Everybody kmows that im a good girl Officer" thing😭

plsplsplspps pls pretty pls please with extra sugar and whipped cream ad ice vream and a big forehead kiss can you do 141 + könig reacting to reader (fem) doing this 💗💗💗

OMG THIS SCREAMS GAZ FOR SOME REASON I KNOW HE'D BE THE MOST REACTIVE (second to Johnny ofc)

You stand there with your phone as the audio plays and you act all cutesy and innocent in front of the big soldier in front of you.

Everybody knows that I'm a good girl officer you say with the audio hoping to get a reaction.

Gaz - He'd break so fast. So damn easily my god. He'd smile so big at the camera then at you with his handsome pretty face ugh he makes me sick. Who told him he could be so gorgeous and charming.

He'd cross his arms over his chest, smile not hidden by his sunglasses nor his hat as he tries to regain his composure.

RAHHH I LOVE HIM SO BAD

Johnny - He'd glance at you first before the camera. Then as he fully hears the audio he smirks and raises an eyebrow, as if to tell the camera "yeah right". He smirks and leans in to whisper something in your ear and your eyes go wide and your hand flies to your mouth as you end the video before the audio is even over. Then he's cackling like a hyena because he's insane and I need him and I love him.

Simon - He wouldn't even pay attention at first. But then he sees how pretty you are and he gives a little curious side eye, not even paying attention to the phone. Arms crossed over his chest, legs spread apart, he hears the audio and realizes what you're doing. His eyes never once looking at the camera, he stares at you, smirk hidden under his mask and his shoulders move with a little chuckle. (Everyone in the comments is going insane at the way he never takes his eyes off you and how you got him to break a little) the audio ends and you giggle shyly like a school girl as you thank him for the little video (He's hard now).

Price - He looks at the camera immediately, eyebrows furrowed like a confused dad trying to read what their kid is showing him on their phone. He hears the audio and his eyebrows shoot up and he looks at you. Arms also crossed over his chest he tilts his head down at you and says "Yeah I bet you are sweetheart." Then he looks forward as if you weren't even there with the cockiest smirk mankind has ever seen. (The comments are going insane over what this absolute sexy dilf of a man said to you to make you go stiff, speechless, open mouthed and wide eyed in the video).

Price saying sweetheart would cause 12983 fatalities and 12930849 injuries.

König - He goes stiff, looks so fucking nervous, because what is this pretty little thing doing giving him attention?? His arms are at his side as he tries to not look at you, but he glances down at the camera and hears the audio. His eyes widen (The comments go absolutely feral over how tall he is and his eyes widening at the suggestive words in the audio) Then he looks down at you and he smiles, eyes crinkling under the hood as he shakes his head, crosses his arms and looks away all shy like a cutie (because he knows you would be such a good girl for him RAHHHHHHH)

Yes I know this 6'10 war criminal is a big tough man but he is a cutie pie in my eyes.

[sp0-t]

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐋

PoliceForce!141 x VictimsPartner!Reader

warnings - murder(er), descriptions of a crime scene, blood, not really gore, loss of a loved one.

summary - the investigation of an arising serial killer has every civilian on their toes, however it has a whole police precinct in even more of an erratic frenzy. The police force assigned to the job get the call that yet another body has been found, most likely another victim of the recent killer. The body count is high, but the tensions are even higher…

💿 (a/n) - it’s finally here!! Long awaited first post of this most likely very long ongoing series. The reader doesn’t really come out in this part but bear with me they will be out in the next! I hope you will stick around for future parts and other works in general. If you’re new to my page or this story in general, Hi! Welcome! If you’ve been following along with my updates and my page, thank you for sticking around! And I look forward to seeing you! Most importantly I hope you all enjoy and stick around some more!

prologue/ ➤ part one / part ???

2… 3… 5… 8…? How many would you leave this time, you didn’t know. You were on 10 now, how many did it take till you got bored of this one too? This one wasn’t as fun, this one didn’t put up a fight, this one took all the fun out of it. It was too easy honestly, it made you bored, easily. You stopped yourself at 23, sighing as you stood up.

You walked over to the trash can lazily taking off your gloves, making sure to engulf the knife in both gloves before begrudgingly tossing it into the tiny metal tin trash can. The metal bang rang through the small office space as you walked to the door. You pull out a cloth from your pocket before turning the doorknob and heading out the door.

“What was his name again?”

The sound of stretching as he pulls the blue latex gloves over his hands quickly dissipates while approaching the house's front door.

“Darren Boyle, he’s some rich big-time director of a construction company.”

“…Is there a reason you’re telling me this man’s finances?”

“Yeah, actually…”

The EMT halts her walking and hands the report to him

“Nothing was taken from the home, no money, no belongings, nothing.”

He takes the report and looks it over.

“Yet he still has 23 knife wounds all over his body”

The walk to the office space was short and brief, with multiple people at the crime scene, and multiple things happening all at once. The flash of the camera, the sound of plastic evidence bags, and the smell… that smell, that concoction of iron and decay that permanently scars the nose with its presence alone.

The rest of the force was already present at the scene littered around, each doing different tasks.

Officer Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, is probably the smartest in the entire county. From someone who started as a mere medical student, that ended up not being able to bear the weight of being the cause of a lost human life, went to become someone who brought “life” and justice to the lost and their families. He is the forensics specialist of the team, offering his smarts and intuition to the force. Gaz can pronounce the cause of death by a simple examination of the body, as well as match DNA evidence to a perpetrator, blood, fingerprints, spit, etc.

Officer Johnny “Soap” McTavish, investigator as well as one of the best interrogators, right behind Officer Riley. Soap used to be a big-time private investigator sometimes, often, closing cases faster than the police department itself. This eventually led to the police department trying to recruit, and find, Soap to their forces for his high investigator talent, which landed him with the force, after a very eventful high-speed chase…

Officer Simon “Ghost” Riley, aka. death reincarnated. Was discovered from his time as a mercenary, and would finish any job no matter the morals or ethics involved. The blood from his past haunted him, when he retired from his brutal position, he discovered his now-current sheriff. Who heard his story and convinced Ghost to come out of his early retirement and become a detective. Ghost took this offensively at first, seeing the offered position as some type of “downgrade”. He ended up convinced into the position and is now one of the most well-known detectives in the nation.

That leaves the sheriff…

“Sheriff Price. It’s been a while, although I’d prefer if we didn’t have to meet under these circumstances.”

“Laswell, always good to see a familiar face. Although I'd have to agree, these circumstances aren't exactly.. ideal.”

“A killer in your part of the city. A serial.. killer.”

She says the last part while narrowing her eyes behind her shoulder at the now dead body

“So”

She says with her head still facing the body

“Whats your plan.”

It wasn’t a question.. it was a demand

She turns her head, her frustrated look now landing on the sheriff.

“To catch this prick.”

They both made heavy eye contact with each other. Trying to square up the other with their looks alone, the tension rising. that is until they are interrupted

“Sheriff! You have to see this.”

A shout from Gaz, across the home office. Price’s attention immediately being stripped away from Laswell and reattaching to his officer

Gaz stands from his crouched position near the victim’s desk, the Sheriff joining his side to glance at what he had found. In Gaz’s hands was a piece of paper, one that had been splattered in blood, It wasn’t just paper, it was a note.

… a note for the Sheriff

written by: @sp0-t ©️

[the-californicationist]

he lets you watch

When you overhear Captain Price watching porn in his office, you decide to turn his fantasies into a reality.

Link to AO3

MDNI/18+

TW: femdom, gagging, one slap

You were working late. Again. It was the most frustrating part of any operation: recon review. All the footage collected from all the soldiers’ body cams had to be reviewed and documented. Any dialogue? Syntactically tagged. Any shots fired? Counted. Any kills? Confirmed. You were glad to help the team, but this stage of discovery was dreadfully boring. 

Even worse, your new-found crush on your captain was driving you insane. To be honest, you’d had your eye on him for a while. There was something about a man in charge, but it was when this last set of footage came through that you really went off the deep end. 

Price had gone with Gaz into a warehouse that was suspected of housing enemy munitions, and the captain had uncovered crates and crates of target-marking spray paint. Huge canisters that attached to the bottoms of planes were all stuck in little rows, lined up and ready to use. 

Unfortunately for the captain, one of the canisters was propped open on the top of its box, and when he lifted the lid, he got covered in red dye. You watched it explode, covering the camera, and then when it reconnected, there he was. Shirtless. Down to his boxer briefs. Wiping red dye off of himself with his clothes. Gaz had brought a full kit, so Price was changing out, hoping to stay covert and camouflaged in the clean gear. Couldn’t well be a glowing red dot while trying to escape enemy territory. 

His chest was broad and full of dense, dark hair, laying flat like soft fur, untrimmed and natural. His beard was streaked red, and half his face was painted, making him look like an ancient Celt, ready for brutal highland battles and bedding willing lassies. He was frustrated by his accident, so all of his movements were sharp and aggressive, his muscles raging and wrestling against his skin. Then, he moved closer to the camera, and the bulge in his underwear became glaringly apparent. 

Hung. Thick. Not so long that it was out of place, but heavy. His cock was imposing, and when he readjusted himself, you could see how dense the muscle really was. You couldn’t help but pause the film, staring, in glorious 4k. You nearly had to wipe the drool from your mouth. 

Price looked so confident here. He was always self-assured, but sometimes, when you spoke with him, there was something that he was holding back. Some shyness perhaps, maybe just a reserved nature, but not here. Not in his livid rage, he was like a wounded beast - angry and virile. Full of righteous energy. It made you imagine making him come undone in other ways, in the ways a woman was meant to make a beast like that come apart at the seams. Ripping the constricting threads and freeing the hulking creature looming within. 

Now, he was sitting in his office, right next to yours, and he’d started watching footage of his own. Or, at least, you thought that he was watching the cams…until you heard a woman’s salacious moan penetrate the thin wall between you. 

Your eyes grew wide, and your breath caught in your chest. You sat in the silence of your office, hearing your heart pound in your ears. You waited to hear it again, just to be sure.

Then, a very quiet, 

“You wanna come?”

You let out the breath you’d been holding. It wooshed from you like a wave crashing against miles and miles of sand. 

Something snapped, some darkness possessed you. You found yourself standing, walking toward the door to his office. It was so late, everyone else had turned in. Just you and him in the west hall of the base awake. He never slept, it seemed. A night owl like you. 

You opened his door without knocking. You’d never done that before, and objectively, it was a truly insane choice. 

In your mind, his hand had lingered when he took his cup of coffee from your hands. In your imagination, he’d cocked a sly smile when you made a joke, just between you and him. You thought you’d seen him checking out your ass in the gym. But, you didn’t have any real proof. 

Popping open his door was the equivalent of pulling the trigger on a bazooka. 

He stood, caught like a fox in a snare, his chair clattering as you came into the room and shut the door behind you quickly. 

“Sergeant, uh,” he recovered, “What happened?”

“Captain.” 

It was a full sentence. And, it was all you had. You were finished. 

The video was still playing. The lurid slapping of skin on skin. Her over-acted moans, his ritual panting. Every few seconds, you counted three, there was another soft,

“You like that, daddy?”

You smiled. He turned red, just like he’d been painted again. 

“Sergeant, I was just…”

He paused the movie. Then, with his body, with the hand roughly rubbing down his face, with the palm tightly covering his mouth, he said a million other words. He was still pink with shame, and then he laughed,

“Yeah, no. I was ‘bout to have a wank. Not sure why I was trying to make you believe otherwise, love. Sorry. It’s too loud?”

You smiled wider. His genuine honesty was so smooth and effortless. A thief caught with his hands in the cookie jar, begging you to punish him for it. 

“No,” you shook your head, “Just wanted to see what you were watching.”

He didn’t register what you said at first, still staring down at his boots. Then, realization washed over him and he looked up at you, eyes shining, brows arched.

“Oh? That so?”

You nodded,

“Let me see what’s got you up so late.”

The captain rubbed a big, calloused hand across his mouth, smoothing his beard, a bit nervous. Then, he pulled a chair around and motioned for you to sit beside him. You sat. He sat. He hit play. 

A woman was straddling a man, both of them hairless and slick like brand new Barbie dolls, spray-tan orange and bleach-blond hair. Americans. She was riding his larger than average dick slowly, deliberately slow, edging him with her pussy. She had a hand around his throat, grasping his jaw tightly, pushing his head back. He was tied to the chair, straining against it, clearly desperate as he writhed beneath her, fighting his restraints. 

“Please, baby. Please, let me come?” He begged. 

“You wanna come, daddy?” She teased. 

“Yeah, can I come?” He begged. 

“Ah-ah! I don’t think so…” She teased. 

Begging. Teasing. Begging. Teasing. A vicious, uncontrollable cycle of cruelty on her part, always pulling the proverbial carrot farther and farther from his snapping jaws. 

You turned to Price who was watching, rapt. He noticed you staring at him. Before he turned to face you, he smiled, sighing,

“Sometimes, when you’re the one barking orders all day, it’d be nice to turn your head off and follow someone else’s for a change.”

“You could follow my orders,” some psychotic part of you spoke. 

He gripped the side of the chair, his once-relaxed hands now making the cheap aluminum frame creak and pop. 

“What’d you say, Sergeant?”

“You heard me, Captain,” you didn’t know if you should call an exorcist or what. Who was this version of yourself and how quickly was she going to get you court martialed?

“You think you can order me around?”

You leaned in, close enough to smell the tobacco on his breath, Cuban cigars leaving earthy notes of vanilla and licorice behind. You whispered,

“I know I can.”

He breathed out, his exhale caressing your lips, threatening to kiss you. 

You didn’t move. Not a muscle. You locked eyes with him, 

“Sit on your hands, Captain.”

“Sergeant,” he tried to kiss you, but you pulled away quickly. 

Part of your body screamed at you, wondering why you’d avoid his advances, but your mind knew what he wanted. He needed to lose control. For a man like Price to lose it, it must be taken from him. Forcibly. 

“I said sit... on... them,” you sneered, making yourself larger by standing over him, placing your hands on his thighs to press into his skin. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he laughed, patronizing and light-hearted. It made you want to break him of that habit. Of thinking you were just his sergeant. Just the girl who brought him coffee. Just his gym buddy. 

He still hadn’t complied, chuckling to himself. Out of no where, you straight up fucking slapped him. Hard. Right across the jaw. Grabbing him by the collar,

“Sit on your fucking hands, soldier. That’s an order,” you barked. 

He sat on his hands, staring at you like you had doused yourself in gasoline and caught yourself on fire, in awe.

You pushed his chair back until you had room to move in front of him, and you began peeling off your clothes, one by one. Your shirt, your cargos, your bra, your panties; they all ended up on the floor, leaving you naked and touching yourself lazily, letting your hands wander. 

He moved to lift his hands off his seat, wanting to touch, so you backed away from him. It was a warning: move and this ends. Follow my orders, and I’ll stay. He settled back down. 

“You know, I should punish you for slapping me, Sergeant. That’s insubordination,” he chided, trying to regain control of the situation. 

You took your panties off the ground and found the wet stain he’d caused, showing it to him coyly, like you’d picked up a pretty shell from the beach. It gleamed in the light of his desk lamp. Then, you walked over to him, swaying your hips, and bent down as if to kiss him. 

As he opened his mouth to kiss you back, you pushed your panties into it, past his teeth, clutching at his jaw with the other hand as roughly as you could, knowing you couldn’t hurt him. You shushed his surprised noises, putting a finger to his lip,

“Shh, Captain. That’s enough. You’re not in charge anymore, are you?”

He furrowed his brow as if he would fight back, as if he would remove his hands and teach you a lesson. Then, as he tasted you on his tongue, he realized that you were offering prizes for obedience. He would reap the rewards, if he was willing to play along. His face softened, and he shook his head no. 

“Good boy,” you whispered. 

You kissed his mouth, awkwardly, since it was full of your wet panties, there was little he could do except experience your kisses. He reacted as if he wanted to kiss you back, and as you moved to kiss his jawline, he moaned. 

Price’s moans were rumbling and deep, long and low like a bull elephant’s roar. You wanted to drag that noise out of him again. Your hand found his belt buckle, and you rugged at it, willing it to loosen. As you kissed his neck, you drug down his zipper and freed his cock from the fabric. 

The captain was not soft. If anything, he was harder than he should’ve been for a little teasing and some neck kisses. You decided to use that to his disadvantage,

“My, my, my. Someone’s eager…”

You tugged up and down with length in a long, languid massage, feeling how his foreskin slipped over the head and down the shaft, smooth and supple. He was hairy around the root of his cock, just as you’d hoped, and after seeing the video of him covered in paint, you wished you could strip him down and run your fingernails through his chest hair, delicately scratching his skin and peaked nipples. 

For now, you spit on his cockhead, using it as lube as you rubbed him. He threw his head back in ecstasy. You removed your hand. He snapped back to attention, staring at you a bit desperate for relief. 

You giggled, 

“Is this for me, or for her?”

Pointing over your shoulder, you motioned to the paused video. You took your hand away, feigning hurt feelings.

His body arched toward you, missing your touch, and he shook his head, trying to say something. 

“For her? How disappointing,” you pouted, playing with the head of his cock with one finger, drawing circles around the edge. 

Price was saying something muffled through the fabric of your panties, shaking his head, scooting his chair closer with a quick thrust of his hips, making his cock flag from the jolting movement. 

“You know,” you whispered, drawing him in with your quiet tone, “if this was for me, I’d really be looking forward to feeling it inside of me.”

“Mmm. Mm, mm!” He tried to correct you, his shoulders straining as he pulled them forward, struggling against his self-imposed restraint. 

“Oh?” You caressed his face, rubbing your hand through his soft beard, feeling the stubble on his chin, “It is for me after all?”

“Mm hm,” he nodded, leaning his cheek into your palm, eyes hooded with relief. 

You could tell he was enjoying the game. You were enjoying it, too. You could feel how wet you were, watching him gaze at your shining folds hungry. Impatient. 

“In that case…” you straddled him, planting your knees on either side of his hips, trapping his cock between you both. His body felt warm, and his breathing was labored. 

You rubbed your wetness up and down his shaft, spreading yourself along his length, making wet little sounds as you smeared him until he was slippery. 

Carefully, you moved his head into your eager pussy, your walls pounding for him like a heartbeat. Then, you held his throat with your hand, forcing him to look at you. 

“You don’t get to come until I tell you to. Do you understand, soldier?”

“Mm, hm,” he nodded, rolling in the ecstasy of your tight cunt. 

“Good, boy.”

[princessdimondheart]

*imagine ‘The Office’ style filming*

Y/N: LETS GET A MOVE ON PRIVATES!!!

Privates: *huffing and puffing* *running like 10 miles*

Private A: sheesh, we should be getting a break already.

Private B: shhh, *whispers* you wanna get us in trouble with the Sergeant? Private A: who gives a shit?

*Private B notices something behind Private A and tries to signal him to stop*

Private A: She’s probably on her fuckin’ period!

*Sergeant L/N appears from behind*

Y/N: who’s on her period? You wanna fucking play, Private?!! Go back to the starting line and start all over again! ALL OF YOU!! NOW ! MOVE IT PRIVATES!!!

*collective groan of all privates*

*Gaz, Soap, and Ghost looking at the camera*

Gaz: He should have listened to his mate

Soap: ya don’t talk about a lady like that without consequences

Ghost: the wanker should have kept his bloody mouth closed. Fucker deserved it

*Y/N staring at the camera*

Y/N: I am on my period… and so what??

Y/N: *(¬_¬)*

Masterlist

[the-froschamethyst4]

My Favorite Animal

————

COD men Headcanons

————

König

My favorite animal is when my almost 7 foot, Austrian Husband, gets in peoples faces whenever they look at me the wrong way or catcall me in front of him

The clip of him getting in a guy face spit flying, red faced, and yelling, you couldn’t hear it because of the music but you can tell that is not a happy König

The same almost 7 foot, Austrian Husband whenever I tell him ‘no’

And the clip is of him playing in your kids sandbox letting the sand run out between his fingers and doing it again

————

Ghost

My favorite animal is my 6’4, gruff, Lieutenant Husband whenever he’s on the field

The clip of him gun loaded and pointed at anything, skull mask covering his face but you could tell he was as extremely focused

That same 6’4, gruff, Lieutenant Husband when our kids mess with him and he doesn’t even budge

Clip of Simon sitting on the couch both his daughter on each side of him, one sticking stickers to his mask and the other coloring in his tattoos

————

Price

My favorite animal is my golden retriever, Husband when someone picks on our daughter

The clip of Price standing tall, arms crossed over his big and broad chest as he was giving the dad to the bully a good and nice long death stare

The same golden retriever, Husband who wouldn’t let his daughter leave for college

The next clip of him holding his daughter for too long as she trying to push him away and tap on his back to sooth him that she was leaving

————

Soap 

My favorite animal is my Scottish Husband when he is fighting

A clip of Soap hitting a punching bag, sweat dripping from his forehead as he keeps hitting with all his might

The same Scottish Husband whenever I don’t give him kisses

The clip of him chin on your chest, looking up at you with puppy dog eyes, bottom lip out and pouting and red eyes…he was drunk and cried for 30 minutes straight because you refused

————

Alejandro

My favorite animal is my Mexican, Doberman, Husband whenever a guy gets in my face and tells me all the shit he’ll do to me since I denied him

A clip of Alejandro quite literally kicking ass and taking names, the guys face on the ground bloodied and bruised as Alejandro took a swig of his drink and walked over to you to hug you

The same Mexican, Doberman, Husband when his child is crying

Clip of him on the couch with tears in his eyes wondering if he did something wrong? He was accidentally loud and was apologizing to the baby

————

Gaz

My favorite animal is my British, Sargent, Husband when he saw a man harassing a women

The clip of Gaz standing his ground in getting in the guys face, the tips of his fingers digging into the guys chest as the guy was giving a random excuse that didn’t sit right with Gaz

The same British, Sargent, Husband whenever he child tells him ‘no’

The clip was of Gaz sitting on his child’s play mat and his child hitting his arm telling him no and a pout grew on Gaz’s face

————

Alex

My favorite animal is my Operations Officer Husband whenever there is someone disrespectful

A clip of Alex sipping on his drink while a guy was yelling at him for being with someone like you but Alex was ignoring him till suddenly Alex broke the glass over the guys head and the clip stops

The same Operations Office Husband whenever his tomato’s didn’t grow

A clip of him sitting in his garden pouting that his tomato’s didn’t grow and you behind the camera trying hard not to giggle at his pouty face

[d0youc0py]

PLEASE WRITE ABOUT PRICE MOREE UM BEGGINGGGGG

Warnings: none really, Frisky Cap, he has a crush on you

“That’s not going to work, every entrance is watched. They have people on the ground and cameras.” Gaz nearly huffed, running a hand over his face.

“Set me up across the street and I’ll take them out.”

“Cameras, Ghost, Cameras.” You reminded, nudging the hulking man with your elbow.

“We’re just going to have to use the front door.” Price spoke, rolling his shoulders out. His hands rested on the table, leaning forward. A small smile etched the corners of his lips. His eyes met yours and a tingle shot up your neck.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You stared back, leaning forward yourself.

“What’re you doing tonight?” He smiled.

///////////////////////////

“Can’t believe I have to wear this stupid thing.” You grumbled, tugging at the dress clothes hugging your body.

“You look stunning.” You turned towards the Captain, suddenly feeling so small under his gaze. His soft eyes wandered up and down your form, stopping at your face, giving a nod of approval. He had imagined taking you out on a date numerous times, granted he would prefer it if Soap wasn’t babbling in his ear- but any excuse to be this close to you would do. His hand rested on the small of your back, his eyes asking you for silent approval. You didn’t meet his gaze, but you leaned into his side causing a hum to arise in his body.

“I guess it’s not too bad.” You were as red as cherries- a color that paired well with your outfit. The two of you walked down the narrow street stopping at one of the fanciest restaurants in Lisbon- also the office of a well known terrorist.

“Reservations for two, Price.” The man “guarding” the front eyed both of you up and down.

“Follow me Mr. And Mr./Mrs. Price.”

“Quite like the sound of that.” Price hummed, giving your hip a firm squeeze. Your hand swatted against his stomach, the boys practically giggling in your ear adding to the embarrassment.

“Cap’ stay focus please. I’m sure you two can reschedule a proper date after the job.”

“Shut up Ghost.” You growled.

“Table for two.” The waiter gently set down two menus. “Enjoy.” He gave a fake smile with clasped hands before heading back up to his post. Your hand gripped the chair, beginning to pull it out before you were stopped.

“Now, now, Sweetheart. Don’t know what type of dates you’ve been on but that will not be tolerated with me.” His breath hit the back of your neck, and you wondered for a moment if the small tickle you felt against your shoulder was from his beard.

It was going to be a long night.

I loveeeeeee this man so much!!!!!

[scarletrosesstuff]

Younger Woman

John Price x Younger!Fem!Reader

Summary: Soap was casually scrolling through Instagram and saw a video posted with someone he thought he recognised. .

Warnings: Age gap (Reader is 18+), swearing, fluff & tattooed Price.

No one knew anything about Price's private life. He never spoke of anything outside of work. They all questioned him, about his life, his sex life and his family life. But he never gave anything away.

He didn't see the point, you were his. He wanted his work life and private life separate. He loved you and wanted to keep you safe from anything to do with his other life.

The only two people who knew about you were Laswell and Nik. He trusted them the most, but also you were his emergency contact in case anything were to happen to him.

They both were a little sceptical with you at the start seeing how much younger you were compared to Price. They worried you were only in the relationship for money and military benefits. But that wasn't the case, they saw how you looked at each other with so much love and care they quickly forgot about their initial thoughts.

They promised Price they'd never mention you in front of anyone, not even his own squad. He felt bad for not sharing but he just wasn't ready for that part of his life to be so open.

But what Price didn't think would happen, happened.

Before you even met Price you had an influencer lifestyle, you made videos of yourself baking, and general lifestyle content. John didn't see an issue with it, he was impressed you had a successful career at such a young age.

The only thing John wouldn't allow was his face to be on camera. You promised you wouldn't but checked it was okay you could film without his face which he agreed. And it had worked until a video you posted while he was away on a mission.

He saw the notification and smiled. He opened it up to see that it was a compilation of your holiday in Italy. It was mostly of you that he filmed or you had filmed but the clip caught his attention. He didn't worry, he smiled seeing you lay on his chest in the sun. You looked so happy and relaxed as you placed a soft kiss against his chest.

He felt a boost of pride that it was only him who made you feel like that. He casually went to the comments seeing people complementing you and him being such a cute couple. But then saw a familiar name comment on the video.

It was Soap tagging Gaz and Ghost in the comments with a caption saying. 'That tattoo looks a lot like Prices.' Price froze as he watched the video again seeing the videos of him without his face but his tattoos on full show. He started to panic, he knew it wasn't your fault but he knew you should have been more careful.

John started to think of ways to hide it when he heard a knock on his office door. "Yeah!" He shouted as Soap let himself in with a smirk. "What is it you want?"

"Not much just wanted to check in."

"Really?" John said frowning. He folded his arms up against his chest. "Why is that?"

"Not much… How was your break?" Soap asked casually seeing opposite Price. He crossed his legs up against the desk.

"Fine." He grunted out.

"Go anywhere nice, you looked like you caught a tan?"

"As i matter of fact I did."

"Italy by chance?" Soap asked smirking as Price sighed pinching the bridge of his nose to calm himself.

"Yep." He gave him a one-word answer.

"It looked nice. She's quite young."

"What?"

"The lass in the video is a bit young for you."

"It's none of your business." He smirked liking the fact that he had you in his life. He felt so young around you.

"You dirty dog!" Soap laughed seeing the smirk on John's face. "How long have you been keeping this private?"

"About a year."

"I have so many questions. First of all, how did you meet her?"

"She moved in next to me, and I helped her move in."

"Nice. And also when can we meet this girl?"

"Never."

"What?! Why?!" Soap felt a little offended.

"I don't want you scaring her away."

"If anyone is to scare her away it would be Ghost, not me."

"Well, we'll never find out because you'll never meet her." Just as he said that the phone rang. Your face lit up his screen. Soap quickly took it away from him and answered the phone.

"Hello Lass." He shouted down the finally.

"Erm… Hi, is John there?" You asked confused with the voice who answered.

"I'll it on pass to lover boy." Price snatched the phone out of his hand and pointed towards his door. "Fuck off." Soap put his hands up in defence.

"Alright am going. But am being serious Price, Good on ya for getting that lass." He said before leaving. Price softly smiled when he heard your voice speak to him.

"Hi love, sorry about that."

[simp-ly-writes]

Suits, Ties, and Thus Spies (pt.3)

Pairing: Spy!Task Force 141 x Handler!Reader

Summary: Its the task force's first mission as Agents at Taylor Tailor's. How will it go- will other agents accept them and most of all- will you be able to handle working with so many agents on the same mission?

Warnings:2500 words, light swearing and teasing, depictions of blood and violence. A/N: sorry for the delay... decided to change the look of these stories too (hope you like the change!). Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

6:00 PM | Autumn | National Museum of Art and History

Agent Whitby grips the back of another man's suit into a fist, slamming his face repeatedly into the brick wall of the storage room. Blood pours out from their nose, a harsh gash forming against their left cheek and forehead- the skin purple and blue as one of their eyes swells shut. “You really are wasting my time here- you’re a waste of time really for anyone so why not just tell me what the code is, make it easy on your looks and my patience- hm?” he challenges, flicking his head back as the man tries to elbow him in the face. 

Letting out a tisk, Whitby drops the man, holding him in place with a dress shoe to the chest as he feels the man begin to cough up blood as he cringes, eyeing at the lower fabric of his suit becoming damaged by the liquid. Letting out a sigh, while shaking his head, glass slipping down his face as he reaches into his waistband leveling the barrel of the gun in between their eyes. 

“Let us try this again, where-” Whitby pauses at the sound of your voice coming through his earpiece, tilting his head to the side as he continues to stare down at the man, waiting for him to speak the answers he evers-so needs. 

“Whitby, do you have a moment?” you ask coated in sweety-coated sarcasm as you watch him through a hidden camera put on his glasses- observing the man on the floor with mocking pity on your features as you turned to Laswell and point to the room Whitby closed himself into as various enemies flooded the floors below him, making their way upstairs and into the ancient egyptian part of the museum. 

“All my time is yours, love. Only to ask,” Whitby says lovingly while stepping into the man's chest harder, hearing as he wheezes out from the pressure. “Warming my heart here darling,” you start to say, hands moving across the keyboard as you add the scanned models of your newest agents into the digital model. “Whitby, I am sending my newest agents in to help you as a gage for the training that needs to be done. You are in charge, congrats- you are a new father of four!” 

“You’re joking-” Whity begins to say before Handler Jacobs patches themselves into the call, a still image of them setting on your computer screen as soundwaves spike and drop in rhythm to his speech. “Agent, this is Handler Jacobs, you are green to finish him off- passcode is.” You wince as the gunshot rings in your ears- stilling the blood in your body as switch yours and Laswell’s calls over to the boys comms as they arrive at the scene. Their once greyed out figures now bursting with colour and moving in sync to their current actions. 

“Alright Agents, give me a sign that you hear me,” you test, watching the surveillance coverage with a nervous smile as you begin to pick at your nail polish, blood pumping and making it way upwards to your head- settling its thundering beat in your ears. Laswell scoots her office chair closer, placing a hand on your shoulder for reassurance as you let out a large breath. “Loud and clear” rings through your comms as you shake Laswells hand off of you, moving to stand and lean over the diagram. “A physical sign please-” you stress as silence is all you receive on the line, watching as they start to whisper to one another and look around, feeling around their suits. 

“I don’t think I copy, Dee…” Gaz says, rubbing the back of his head. “I watch your every move boys while on a mission. And that is Handler D, please. Turn left and go through the staff entrance, inside the envelope is a swipe to get through the door. Charlotte has already put your biometrics into the security. You will have to climb up the disabled  elevator shaft. Agent Whitby is on the third floor in the Egyptian exhibit awaiting your arrival as we speak.”

“Oh,” Soap responded, waving his hands widely in the hair as you shake your head- looking at Laswell who is struggling to contain her laughter as you grip at the table, knuckles turning white. You watch as the task force makes their way, peering down each corner and into the elevator shaft as they begin to climb the ropes. You watch their technique, writing a few notes on a nearby paper-pad from your desk upon their technique. “We are on the third floor,” John states. 

“Walk as I talk please, turn left, left again, open the yellow door to your right there is a card swipe behind the suit of armour. In 10 steps you find a closet door, open it,” you order, falling back into your chair as their digital models work through the space, guns raised as you click your pen on and off, listening as your clicks sound in tune to the digital clock on your screen. You continue your notes as a ping vibrates through your phone. Mouthing a thank you to Laswell, the report you asked for finally in your inbox. 

“Well hello there,” Whitby states, picking up the dead man's handkerchief as he cleans his hands before shaking each of the task force’s in a strong grip and tight smile. “Agent Whitby, do follow me,” he commands, dropping the piece of cloth to the floor before ushering the group outside the closet as he starts to jog down the hall and places the code into the staff hallway before continuing to navigate the maze of white tiled floors and beige walls without a blink of worry. Handler Jacobs rattles off directions in his earpiece as the task force remains impressed by his supposed memorization of the building. 

“Alright boys, there is one hostile coming up on your west in 5, 4, 3 2, and…” you watch as Johnny tackles the forager into a nearby cart, various vitals of chemicals spill across the floor as they hiss and fizzle amongst one another, eating away at the leather of his shoes. Loosening his tie, Whitby restrains the woman, humming to himself while scanning the rest of the hallway. “Good work, agent,” Whitby compliments, clapping a hand down on their shoulder before continuing to move down the hall and sporadically turning on 90 degrees to slam the door back on another forger, they curse out in pain, dropping to their knees before quickly standing and rushing out into the hall, starting to swing at Whitby.

Dipping down and extending his leg outwards, the man falls over, face slamming into the tile floors below just before they grip his ankle, tackling the agent down with him. Various punches are shared before Whitby has their purple-head in between his thighs- they whimper for air, slamming their fists repeatedly against his thighs while. Whitby signals over for another tie as John wraps the fabric tightly around their wrists. Straightening his jacket one more, Whitby’s chest rapidly rises and falls- needing air he unbuttons a series from his dress shirt before punching in a code back into the door as it creaks in welcome. 

Flicking the lights on, Whitby now walks with a limp to his step- observing the various artifacts in the room sat beside the fakes that were to be sold. Pinching the edge of his glasses, he takes a series of photos- uploading them into the system. “Ghost and Soap, right? If you could demolish these fakes.”

“You have 12 combatants coming from the roof, 20 minutes until they reach you all,” you comment, eyes flicking from the model to the surveillance photo as you chew your lip anxiously. “I have already informed Kyle and Price in the hall but the police are on their way- 30 minutes tops you all. Destroy and set the forgers in place. We cannot be seen,” you state, setting a timer to each of their watches. 

“Then let the fun begin,” Whitby announces to the room before they all get to work smashing through the various fake vases and statues that were to be sold for profit through these criminals. Porcelain shards fly and rattle against one another, crunching beneath their shoes. Glass cabinets are flung open, mixing with the debris on the floor as Soap sets fire to a fake wooden ship carving. Flicking your vision back to the hall, John and Kyle made their way back into the room, tying the criminals to desk chairs and placing a bat at their feet with a smirk. Just as they shut the door behind themselves, you clicked a button on your console as the ties fell from their hands and the forgers scrambled and scratched against the door for an escape to only find none besides the prison cell that awaits them. 

“You are to take your cars back, Whitby is driving to get your gear cleaned before you step back into the facility- safety protocol. Good work today, boys- a few training notes I have for later but other than that, a successful mission is all that matters- management is pleased,” you note watching as they descended from the window, grappling with their belt and buckle before skirting off into the city streets.

A rock station began to bang through the car's audio system just before you shut off communications and watched them drive to the specialty cleaners. Taking a stand and clapping your hands, Laswell rubbed her eyes before announcing her departure. Taking a long hug together you showed her back to the store front before running across the street to pick up a bottle of liquor. Smiling at the black label brand you pay and dash back to the lobby - pouring out a series of cups with ice and phone for Charlotte, Jason, Jacobs, and Samantha to join you all for a debrief. 

–

You smile, watching as the boys do their best to flatten out their freshly primed suits and straighten their ties before walking up to you lounging in one of the many chairs in the large living space of the lobby. The leather creaks under each of their weight, each man smiling as you hand over a glass of Tennessee whisky just as Whitby sends you a knowing wink while eyeing up the bottle. 

“Interesting choice, sweetheart.” He teases as you roll your eyes, shoving his shoulder with your own playfully before he starts to lean closer to you, lips drifting featherlight words into your ear as your cheeks turn back. Charlotte smiles at the bottom of her glass, emitting an echoing chuckle before locking her ankles with Jacobs sat across from her. 

“Are you all dating? Or is this an agent-handler culture thing we don’t understand?” Johnny asks. Eyeing the way Whitby's hands drift across your clothing, finding hidden bits of your warm skin with a small frown as you furiously shake your head. “No, no, no, definitely not. But in this line of work specifically… you only want to get with people who really know you- for you. Not the management-mandated mask externally…” you drift off just as Whitby places a hand on your knee, smiling reassuringly before standing and distributing the rest of the bottle as you each cheer for a successful first mission. 

Returning back home, flicking on the bedroom lamp and getting ready for the night and the subsequent morning after. You could only close that night, snuggling into your cold empty sheets of your house- praying that your remaining “favour-missions” go just as smoothly as the last.

But as the cold night air wept its way through the curtains and into your harrowing dreams as you tossed and turned through the night, gripping and digging into your sheets as the streets became lively in the morning light. Your alarm sounded as you felt around to slam it down shut, another day, another mission done and with your bags packed in preparation. It would be a quick training session and the team's first international mission as a kidnapped royal needed your help. 

You groaned at the panic voice mail, the personal bodyguard shaking like a leaf before pleading through your home's digital system speakers. You start a voicemail while pouring a cup of coffee, the toaster pops up as you navigate through the kitchen and settle down at the island. 

“I have an agent close by to their last known location- they will be forwarded until I can get me and my team into a local base of operations. We will bring them home for the country,” you finish the note with, chugging down the rest of your drink before washing your plates in the sink. Feeling underneath the counter, your fingers dip into crevices- a light flashes red and the floor just beside your slides open. 

A fireproof box hisses open to your fingerprint, various foreign currencies and passports from your past missions flood your memories, fingers drifting over each material and number before settling them on the countertop. 

Stepping into your pantry you push back on a wall, the surface rumbles for a moment before turning itself and revealing a series of steps down towards your basement. The lights flicker on to your presence, humming slightly above your head as you make your way down the firing range and towards your collection. Gently picking up and cleaning each gun, you place them in their travel safe and locked containers before slamming the door behind you. 

Packing your belongings into a bulletproof suitcase- made from the same material as your suit. “X?” you request to your house, “Yes, Handler Daniels?” the AI responds in a pleasant accent back- awaiting your every order. “Please make a suit reservation in one hour, request for beige to be brought out- we are going tropical,” you state. “Very well,” X responds back before going silent once more. 

Suiting yourself up, tying up your dress shoes and slinging a shoulder bag on, you look between the car options you have before deciding on an SUV- needing the seating space for their airport trip that awaited you. Checking your appearance one last time in the rearview mirror you rolled out the driveway and down the country roads. Your house is locked automatically with the lack of your detected presence.

Clicking on the radio, Skyfall began to play through the radio as you tapped your fingers against the steering wheel while awaiting a light change. Rolling your eyes as a driver in front of you almost clipped a pedestrian on the sidewalk wishing to cross on their signal. You pulled into the underground garage underneath the building before driving into a specific parking spot off in a dim corner. It scans the bottom of your car, clicking with approval once finding your matching icon before lowering you deeping into the ground. You smile seeing the various sports cars and SUVs already parked in a line- workers busy or some that even worked through the night as you smile at Samanatha as she waves you in from the front desk, settling yourself in the office once more you read through Lasswell's report before sending out the email. Back your bags boys, we are going international.

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