#poly141 x female reader
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ryuzakemo128 · 2 days ago
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MDNI 18+ Omegavere
Note: This is my first try. If it sucks let me know.
Word count: 1705
You were not an alpha, you were certainly were no quivering omega, and you are not even a fucking beta. What in the name of a metaphorical god are you? With no conclusive, definitive answers to who or what you are. You are left to wander the expanse of earth. 
You have a sniper rifle with the initials of your name faded away. Scratched off by your own hand. Dubbed the lone wanderer. As you were often seen by military packs alone. No pack. No, nothing at your side. Did it matter to you? Not really. You were fine. Right?
Things were different when you were adamant in sewing the wound on your leg by yourself. “Don’t like it? Then

 Then you can fuck off.” you growled. Your fingertips worming their way to take the bullet from your leg. After the bullet was finally removed after several messy, painstaking minutes?
You dosed your wound in rubbing alcohol and hissed. But continued to stitch your own wound up. Contemplating whether to put in staples as well to keep the wound from ripping open again. As you finished up, firmly wrapping the bandage in place and thinking of what move to make.
You looked at your digital watch, five hours until sundown and five hours until you have to find somewhere safe enough to sleep. Limping to an abandoned office or one which looked to be in disuse. You weren’t going to let anyone catch you again. Not like last time, either. 
The screeching of the metal on concrete too familiar for your ears, you found a storage closet and shifted the blankets around to hide inside. Falling asleep to avoid hunger building inside your stomach. The cool metal digging into your body in combination to the thin woollen blankets lulled you. 
Lulled you straight into a slumber. An uneasy slumber. But slumber all the same. Hoping the gunshots in the distance would cover the quiet purrs coming from you, your lips and the office which is usually empty at this time of day. Things were soon to get far worse now. 
Things always tend to get worse before they even get the chance to get better. Life fucks you over and leaves you for the vultures to pick at your corpse. Always the victim. Never the victor. Thus, when you escaped the last pack who tried to claim you by force?
You learned to fight, to shoot, throw a knife and to hunt other animals. Living the high life, right? What more could you ask for? Home? Stability? A pack? A family? Ha! That shit was for Aphas, betas and omegas. You had survived this long on your own, hadn't you?
But what about the scent? Your scent? What about it? It's faint, growing stronger every second, it was your time. But you weren’t ready for it. To be fair, you have never been ‘ready’ for its arrival. And you certainly weren’t ready for it to happen now of all times. 
The heat of your core right up to the tightness in your abdomen. Your heat is coming. Fucking perfect. In the middle of a fucking war zone and your heat comes in while you’re injured. The closet wasn’t going to cut it anymore. You needed somewhere better to hide. Now.
Quickly moving, you grabbed your bone knife, your bag, your sniper rifle. You limped your way out of the closet. The sun is setting. You know what that brings? The hounds of Deadlock. The alphas of task force 141. If you could smell them? Then they already smelt you. 
They claimed stray omegas like they were kings of the fucking world, and anyone who had a problem with that?  Well, they'd just blow their fucking heads off. That's what alphas did. But you? You weren’t going to tango with alphas. A death sentence wrapped inside a twisted hand basket case.
You rarely go into heat. As far as you know, it is quite rare for you to get into heat. The medication you took prevented it from showing. Always taking it two days before one came close to showing. Here you are with your large med bottle empty. No warning.
Like your pathetic, absent deadbeat of a father, you hoped you would not have to see it happen to you. The scent grew stronger still, a sweet coppery tang uniquely yours and yours alone. Panic rushed through you, your body and your senses. Urging, willing, forcing yourself to move faster.
Stumbling into the hallway, moving to the medical room three rooms away from the office you forced yourself to hide in three hours prior. Checking your wristwatch habitually. Two hours until midnight comes knocking on your door. Two more hours until your heat comes in full swing. Only two hours. 
Pushing the barrel of your gun into the door. Forcing your way into the medical room, the smell of clinic grade medical rubbing alcohol assaulted your senses. You didn’t have the patience to be slow and steady like you would have wanted. Not with the impending danger at your heels. 
Shoving a chair underneath the door handle to prevent someone from coming in while you stocked up on antibiotics, clean bandages, painkillers, antiseptic, and any other kind of medical supplies you thought were important for your needs. All of them. Shoved into your backpack. You weren’t going anywhere without them.
With your scent growing increasingly stronger. You worried immensely about them being able to kick down the door and drag you away from there by force. If they found you, you would be as good as theirs. Fucked up leg and all. It didn’t matter that you were in there.
You paused, standing at the door, listening for movement, footsteps down the hall. Listening for the sturdy combat boots to come marching right past you, hoping the room’s medical grade antiseptic and bleach would be strong enough to cover your heat. Your scent. The sticky fluid urging to come out.
Yet you heard nothing. It was silent. Too quiet. Suspiciously silent even. You knew better than to let it conquer your sense of self-preservation. You came too far to let yourself get taken again. You had to wait this one out. No matter how long it took or how hard.
Waiting felt like agony, felt like nails on a chalkboard, every second passing did nothing for your anxiety. The windows were covered to prevent flashlights, helicopter lights and other unwelcome visitors from peaking inside the medical room. Your breaths grew shallower, your stomach getting tighter, and your heat is here.
Your body temperature rising to an unbearable, flow of burning heat. Biting down on your thick leather belt to muffle the sounds coming from your lips. The sound of window glass breaking, shattering as you hid in the medical shower underneath the cold water and away from the door’s window. 
Your grimy, sweaty, dirty clothes removed and left into a bath of white vinegar soaking in a plastic tub. As you used the surgical scrub to clean yourself with. You hoped if you cleaned your clothes with vinegar, soaked it inside it and let it stew within the white vinegar.
Silently hoping by time morning came around your clothes would be dried, clean and ready to wear again for the new day. Trapped inside this medium sized room until the first wave of your intense heat passed on by. It would become unmanageable quickly if you let it control you. 
Ghost sniffed the air, they weren’t going to get to you in time now were they? By the time this wave went through your body. You would be gone and the morning would arrive. And they’d have to smell your sweet scent after the fact. After you were long gone.
“If she hasn’t left yet, in the next six hours, the heat will pass, and she’s gonna be long gone by the time we’ve sniffed her out.” Ghost told Price. Taking another long whiff of the sweetest scent he’s ever smelt in a long time. You’re sweeter than he assumed.
“Are you even sure this stray isn’t an omega like the other we’ve found? What makes you so damn sure she’s not another one?” Price questioned Simon, his voice both gruff and sceptical of his comrade’s analysis over the situation. He had every right to be sceptical over this one.
“Her scent is sweet, tooth rotting levels of sweet, think candy bars and cotton candy. There’s some spice to it, like cinnamon or pumpkin spice in those pumpkin spice lattes Gaz loves drinking so much. It's faint. But it is most certainly there. IF you know where to find it.” 
“But what else makes her so special?” Gaz enquired, hinting at the desire to ascertain as to why General Shepherd sent them out here. His burning urge to know more was there whenever something unusual is brought to their attention. Regardless of how they have personally felt about it all. 
“Well for starters, she’s covering her tracks, if she’s smart enough to do that? Then she’s not an omega, she’s a fucking ghost, mate. If anything, you’d think she’s been out there longer than we’ve been in this shithole. This is her playing field, Gaz. Her prime hunting ground now.” Soap smirked, a grin from ear to ear like a Cheshire cat rather than an alpha wolf’s. 
Gaz pulled out the file with your photo printed onto the white page, “This her Ghost?” Gaz asked ghost for confirmation. He wouldn’t budge until his information, he looked into his own time. 
Ghost remembered you, the rancher hat you wore that day and the bandana hiding half your face from his eyes. Shooting him in the shoulder with a tracking bullet. “Put a tracking bullet into my shoulder with her sniper rifle. It took us two weeks to get it removed without it detonating and taking my arm with it. That’s not a move an omega would make, it’s a move done by professionals. And she is a fucking ghost, moving in time with her surroundings. She’s not a sitting duck for us to come and claim her, she’s a fucking wolf in sheep’s clothing, that one.”
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forsworned · 1 month ago
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Being the only female on TF141 is like Simon constantly scolding you for getting into sheningans with Johnny and Kyle while Price sits on his arm chair with a good book, whiskey in hand and him puffing out smoke like a chimney from his cigar like the daddy he is.
"Delete it."
"Why?"
"Cos I fockin' said so."
You cock an amused brow at him as you look up from the embarrassingly cute photo of the skull-masked behemoth fast sleep and cuddling your Hello Kitty plushie. "Cos y'fockin' said so?" You mock his gravelly Manchester accent and it sends Johnny and Kyle into a fit of giggles. And even Price is chuffed by it. It's contagious really.
It lets your guard down enough for him to yank your phone out of your hand deleting the picture with a swiftness that made your eyes ream and your heart jump. You all groan and jeer at him for being a poor sport but he's quite satisfied with himself. Little does he know, you have a few copies of it in your desktop.
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novemberheart · 3 months ago
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{overview} You get answers for Simon’s behavior
{warnings} fem reader, poly 141, a/b/o dynamics, mentions of fighting, cursing, mentions of heat cycles and marking
Chapter 31 <- Chapter 32 -> Chapter 33
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“He has the flu,” the doctor spoke. John growled, not in the mood for games. “Alpha flu,” The doctor clarified.
“Bloody stupid name,” Kyle mumbled.
“What does that mean?” You urged.
“Has he been away for a while?” The doctor questioned. Her glasses had become foggy. She was nervous. John growled again. They had already answered that.
“Yes,” you answered. You wrapped your arm around John’s bicep giving him a small squeeze. His shoulders fell slightly.
“Have you been marked yet?” she asked, turning her full attention to you. You quickly shook your head.
“That would be why. His alpha already considers you his omega and being away from you without marking you”- she cut herself off with a sigh. “It would be like if you left your car with the keys in it in a bad neighborhood- for lack of a better analogy,” She explained. You weren't sure you loved the comparison.
“So his alpha is losing it because she's his omega but doesn't have the claim to prove it?” John clarified. The doctor nodded her head.
“Being away could've caused paranoia, especially if his alpha felt she wasn't well protected- or it could just be because deeper bonds have formed,” She continued.
Could be both.
You were by yourself with Kyle, who wouldn't be in the best position to protect you. Plus the two of you have grown closer.
“How come I haven't experienced this?” John voiced what you were thinking.
“It depends on a lot of different factors,” she started. “Could be biological, genetic, outside factors, so many things,”
John nodded his head.
“What do we do now?” Kyle questioned.
“Well, the best thing would be claiming. When's your next heat?”
“About three to four weeks,” John spoke for you. You were happy he was keeping track.
“Well then our next option would be sedation”-
“No,” John interjected. “She’s not being marked while sedated. Simon wouldn't want it to be that way and neither do I,”
“I’m fine with it,” you assured. You lied. No one wanted to be marked while sedated- besides betas. It was traumatizing, even though it wouldn't be painful. When you woke up you had to work through every emotion sober- unclouded by your heat. It scared you.
“No,” John pressed again. You breathed a sigh of relief. John’s hand rested on the back of your head, pulling you towards him. You whined, burying yourself into his side. “Is there a way we can spur on her heat?” John suggested.
“I suggest talking to an omega specialist,” she offered. John sucked in through his teeth nodding his head.
“Thank you, doctor,” He extended his arms towards the door. He showed her out. “Come here, pretty girl,” John soothed. You clawed at your eyes, quickly finding comfort against his chest. “I'm sorry that happened,” he whispered, his own throat growing tight at the lingering scent of your fear.
“We can talk to an omega specialist,” you mumbled, once your tears had finally died down.
“You sure, lovie?” Kyle spoke up.
“Could just lock the bastard in Johnny’s room till he snaps out of it,” John jested. You chuckled dryly, still refusing to remove your face from his chest. The two men sighed, sharing a glance with each other.
This wasn't how they wanted this to go down.
“If there is something we could do, would you be open to being marked?” John hummed, pressing you even further against him.
You were ready.
You had been during your heat.
You had waited longer than most omegas to be marked, not that that's saying much. It was more of a privilege than anything. Your pack was letting you consent to it on your own.
“Yes,” you agreed aloud. “I’d want you to mark me too though,” you added. John quirked his brow, an almost amused look on his face.
“That’s a lot, sweetheart,” he reminded. “Besides I’m not sure Simon’ll let me that close to his omega,” John purred. You grumbled, shooting him an angry look.
“I don't want to just belong to one of you. I want to belong to all of you,” you pressed. A flame sparked in the bellies of both men, their hearts skipping a beat.
“You already do,” John hushed, brushing your hair away from your forehead. “All ours. Which is why we have to take care of you. I'll schedule an appointment with an omega specialist today and you go write down all the questions you have, yes?”
“Yes, alpha,” You agreed.
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Simon groaned causing Johnny to sit up in his seat.
“Morning, L.T.” Johnny yawned. Simon groaned again, a familiar ache and neediness in his body, along with a deep ache in his already bruised jaw. “How ya feelin’?” Johnny pressed.
“What happened?” he groaned. He could hardly open his eyes.
“Cap knocked you out. Right hook,” Johnny responded. That would explain it. The captain had a deadly hook. He was lucky his head was still attached to his neck.
Simon suddenly snapped awake, causing Johnny to throw himself forward.
“Pup?” Simon questioned, his eyes bearing into Johnny’s for assurance. He could still smell you against the sheets. His stomach twisted with a painful groan.
“She’s alright,” Johnny responded quickly. He didn't believe him. Johnny could tell. His eyes still searching for any signs that he had fucked up beyond repair. While it wasn't a good situation to be in, it wasn't Simon's fault.
Johnny knew why this happened to Simon. Simon’s walls were still up. Granted, you had shortened them quite a few feet, yet he was still holding himself back. Johnny could see it. He could see the way Simon stopped himself from letting his alpha take care of you. The way he’d whisper to Johnny to get you seconds once you cleared your plate instead of getting it for you himself. The way he always put your raincoat in plain view so you wouldn't forget it- instead of just reminding you.
It was only natural that his alpha wanted credit for these acts. He wanted to be seen as a worthy mate.
“She was a bit shaken, but she won’t hold it against ya,” Johnny assured. Simon's back flattened against the mattress, not in ease but in defeat. “Wanna hear what the doctor said about you?” Johnny's tone was too teasing for Simon's mood. “She said your alphas pitchin’ a fit because you were away from our girl,” Johnny smirked. “You wanna mark her,” Johnny whispered. The gravel in his voice usually sent a tingle up Simon’s spine, this time it made Simon kick him off the bed. “Bastard,” Johnny grumbled. The thud alerted John.
“Find my tooth while you're down there,” Simon requested of Johnny, shooting a glare at John.
“Don’t hold that against me, honey,” John soothed. Simon flushed at the name, rolling over onto his stomach. “I’d want you to do the same to me if I was in your position,” John added. Simon felt a wave of sickness wash over him again.
“How is she?”
“I just told you ho”- John held up his hand to cut-off the Scot.
“Go cuddle with you omega,” John directed, nodding his head towards the door. Johnny huffed at the cut-off, but would rather be doing that anyway. “She was scared,” John said once the door had shut. “Had all of us scared,” John continued. Simon whined low in his throat. He was with his alpha- his captain, he didn't need to be strong anymore. “None of that,” John soothed. His hand grabbed Simon by the scruff so his head was in his lap. “Wasn't your fault. She’s sitting at the kitchen counter writing questions to ask the omega specialist. She wants you to mark her,” John explained. A pleased rumble echoed in Simon’s chest at the idea- but stopped due to another.
“She’s not being sedated,” Simon snarled.
“Course not,” John assured. “Kyle’s been talking to one over the computer, apparently there is a pill that can spur on a heat. We’re looking into that,” John explained.
“I can wait till her heat,” Simon assured. “I can pick up a mission till her heat”-
“That's not feasible Simon,” John sighed. “First of all, we can't send you out there in this condition. Second, who knows when our girl will even get her heat. Third, your being away will only make the symptoms worse.”
“She gonna hate me after this?” Simon asked, mostly to himself.
“Do you want to mark her?” John asked suddenly.
Yes.
He's been biting back the urge to sink his teeth into you since Inverness.
Simon settled for a grunt.
“Then she won’t hate you, Simon,”
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“Thank you for seeing us on such short notice,” Johnny thanked, peeling off your raincoat for you. The doctor smiled at the interaction.
“Of course. The situation, as it has been described to me, isn't one that should be taken lightly or pushed back,” she responded. “How are you doing?” She asked softly, turning towards you. She had eyes that looked exactly like Kyles. It instantly calmed you.
“I’m alright. Nervous. Thank you for asking,” you tried to smile.
“Your alpha- John, sent me over your medical history and I think the best option will be Camilcotazine. Are you familiar with that drug in any way?” She asked.
You were. One of the doctors at the omega holding house wanted to put you on that to regulate your heats. You declined because of the side effects. Instant two-week heat.
You nodded your head, explaining why you chose not to go on it at the time.
“Well, that's exactly why I want to prescribe it to you,” was her response.
“How long will she have to take it?” Johnny asked. You suddenly realized you left your paper with questions at home.
“For about three months,” she said, making both of you wince. “We can't tell if the medication is a good fit for you during the first month, because it will throw you into a heat regardless. The second month is to see if your heat begins to regulate itself and the third month is to see if it matches the second month,” she explained. It made sense, unfortunately.
“That’s fine,” you spoke up. “What if my heat lasts longer than it is supposed to?”
“The good thing about Camilcotazine is that it's a very commonly used medication. It has gone through thousands of tests and has been used for omegas for over fifty years. 1/7 omegas are on or have been on it. I am very confident in its ability,” she explained.
You looked over at Johnny.
“When do I start?” you breathed.
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Hi friends!!! The next few chapters are going to be veryyy spicy! Hopefully that is something you enjoy

 see you in three days! 🧡
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cynicalrosebud · 4 months ago
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Masterlist
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Hello! You can call me Cyn! I’m 25, Ojibwe Native, and really tired!
I write for Call of Duty mostly, OCs, male readers, female readers, I do it all! Depends on what gender I'm feelin' that day. I have a proclivity towards hurt/comfort/whump fics, so please be mindful of the tags.
Friendly reminder that all of my work is my own creation and is protected. Do not repost on other sites, copy, or steal my work. This includes lifting text, using it in AI chatbots, or sharing it without my explicit permission. I work hard on my stories and creations, and I kindly ask that you respect that effort by not reusing my work without proper credit or authorization.
If you'd like to share or use something, please reach out to me first for permission. Thank you for understanding! :)
My best work can be found under #Cyn’s Best
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Incorrect Quotes:
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9
Part 10
Ghost is scary
Subs deal with so much
Price’s Lecture
Echoes of Duty (COD Sentinel AU)
Masterlist
Worldbuilding
Sentinel and Guide SAS Handbook: Special Operations
Rumor Has It (Poly!TF141 x oc!Male)
Masterlist of Chapters
Blurbs and Drabbles Masterlist
141 + Nikolai x Rumor Kinky Drabbles Masterlist MDNI
Rumor’s Dossier
By Trust Alone (Soap x Mexican!Reader)
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
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K9 Hybrid AU
AU Worldbuilding
Hybrid Gear and Civvies
Handle It (K9!Hybrid!Reader x Handler!Alex Keller Masterlist
Loyalty & Instinct (K9!Hybrid!Reader x Handler!Kyle "Gaz" Garrick) Masterlist
Lacuna (K9!Hybrid!Reader x Handler!John Price) Masterlist
Collateral Hearts (K9!Hybrid!Reader x Handler!Simon “Ghost Riley) Masterlist
Ka-Freakin-Boom (K9!Hybrid!Reader x Handler! John “Soap” MacTavish) Masterlist
Kinktober 2024
Fic List
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SFW Alphabet COD
Ghost - He Riley Loves Me
Price - Price Check
Gaz
Soap
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Soldier, Poet, Kings (TF141 x Reader)
Jojo's Bizarre GhostPrice
Parallel Lines (Price x Reader)
Gentle Descent (Alex Keller x Reader). MDNI
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Tactical Observer - Poly141 x Reader - Request Fic
Tactical Observer Part 2 - Request Fic
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Requests are open! Nothing illegal or gross and please stick to COD characters but otherwise I’m available!
I also accept requests for fic banners
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141 Dividers I made!
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Dividers by @drizztdohurtin
Banner by @saradika
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spicyspiders · 6 months ago
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Loads of request/ writing ideas
Feel free to ignore all of these mostly male reader sorry ofc you can choose whatever gender u want ur the writer!! These have been eating away at my brain for a while
Male Reader x graves
Male Reader x gaz
Husband reader x Price
Bf Reader x gaz
First date with any one on 141 or all of them ur choice
You team has to work with the 141 (male reader,female reader or gn reader don’t matter) you can make a series about it leading up to smut or jus one write yk
You teach graves a lesson (smut) male reader
(Maybe he’s like being EXTRA bossy or out of line picking at the smallest things and u snap and idk smut..)
Drunk night out with poly141 (fluff or smut wtv works)
Skincare (fluff) with any person from cod
Husband price and house wife/husband reader where they stay home and idk he takes care of them (fluff or smut ur choice )
Hand necklace ( smut ) anyone from cod
Bookstore reader x anyone from cod ( smut or fluff idk you choose )
Roommate soap ( smut )
(Idk how u feel abt preg reader..) but preg reader or single dad reader x anyone from cod ( fluff )
Neighbor Kyle ( smut )
Poly141 x Reader smut
Or hear me out.. you were on one team (ur own) got moved to the 141 after a altercation see JOHNNY after he basically left u ( he said he would help u get out of a toxic household and jus ghosted u..) (pre military) you can choose how it goes either smut fluff or angst up to u Pooks
Idk man these have been nawing at my brain for a hot minute I’ll add to the list can I be 🌞 anon so I can continue adding?
Yeah you can be the 🌞 anon. I'm going to go through this list and put a link to the ones that I've already written. I'll put it under a read more since this list is pretty long.
Here is a link to my Graves x male reader tag. I've only written one for him, but it's something.
Link to my Gaz x male reader tag.
Haven't written a story where Price and the reader are husbands, but here's a link to my Price x male reader tag.
The first Gaz story I wrote kind of has this depending on how you read it.
The next four points on your list I don't think I've written.
I haven't written a drunk night out, but I've written something where Price, the reader, and Ghost go out to a bar together. Here's the link.
It's not skincare per say, but I've written a fic where Ghost helps the reader shave his face.
I don't write fem reader fics, but this one kind of relates to Price x husband male reader, which I haven't written.
Does hand necklace mean choking? I'm sure I've written something that has choking in it already, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't write it again.
I haven't written anything like this before.
Or this.
I probably wouldn't write anything with pregnancy in it, but maybe maybe something with a single male reader.
I've written anything like this.
It isn't exactly poly, but I've written multiple stories where the reader is with all of 141. Those can be found in the Gaz and Price links I've put above.
The last bullet points sounds intense. Johnny said he would help get the reader out of a toxic situation but then ghosted them? If I wrote this, I'd probably change some stuff about it if that was okay. Like maybe the reader is in a toxic situation that Johnny tries to help him out of, but then realizes he doesn't have the power to help him? I couldn't really see Johnny ghosting him, more so he ends the relationship (or whatever it is that they have) because he feels like he can't be what the reader needs.
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onebigfangirlworld · 2 years ago
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Masterlist
On the Outside Looking In Universe
Mob AU!
Peace and Quiet (rooster x bob x hangman x reader)
Complete (Soulmate AU, rooster x bob x hangman x reader)
F1 AU (jake seresin x OC)
Sugar Daddies in the house tonight (icemav x reader)
Still Growing Up Now (Iceman x Maverick, Iceman & Original Female Character, Maverick & Original Female Character)
Honor and Duty (Iceman x Maverick, Iceman & Original Female Character, Maverick & Original Female Character, Rooster x Hangman)
Angsty poly!141 Blurb (call of duty fandom, ghost x reader, john price x reader. kyle gaz garrick x reader, john soap mactavish x reader)
mob boss john price blurb (john price x reader)
untitled poly141 blurb   (call of duty fandom, ghost x reader, john price x reader. kyle gaz garrick x reader, john soap mactavish x reader)
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ryuzakemo128 · 1 day ago
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MDNI 18+ Omegaverse Part 2
Part One
Note: Big things happens in this continuation.
word count: 1542
Ghost still remembered how you were standing on top of the building when you shot the tracking bullet into his shoulder. You didn’t aim to kill, maim? Sure. You don’t take lives. You just run from others and keep them tagged for as long as possible to know where they would be. You didn’t care if they were special operatives or the Queen of fucking England. No one had the right to have you or own you. Ever. 
“I still remember how Price thought you were seeing things.” Soap snickered, “I still can’t believe it.”
“Well, whatever it is, just produced a strong smell of vinegar and my nose is hurting.” Gaz complained, whined, even. Your makeshift solution is working to your advantage. Even if it's drowning your dirty, grimy baggy clothes under hot water and white vinegar. They’ll end up trying again quite soon.
As you got changed into clean clothes, your naked body came into the view of the door window. Which to Soap? It was like he hit the fucking jackpot. Watching you pull on medical scrubs. Soap saw your back tattoo, “The gates of hell are open night and day; Smooth the descent, and easy is the way: But to return, and view the cheerful skies, In this the task and mighty labour lies.”
Soap yanked Price over to take a look at your tattoo. His hunch told him something, you weren’t just anyone, and you weren’t just a random omega the General wanted to contain. “I don’t think we know nearly as much about her as we think we do.” Soap told him, dragging him to the window and shoving the binoculars into Price’s hands. 
Gaz remembered your herbal cigarettes, the lavender burning and how Price would try to scold you for your habit. “And what? Leave you smoked up like a bastard in heat or somethin?” you told Price. Breathing lavender scented smoke into Price’s facial direction. Dodging his attempts to snatch the cigarette from you.
Price, at the time, growled, “What is with you? You’re slipperier than a greased-up pig at a county fair, and more elusive than the fucking Loch Ness monster.” The spunk you had before? Increased tenfold. 
“Look at you, tripping over yourselves still, fucking alphas who can’t track for shit huh?” you taunted with your walkie-talkie you found in the office. “Round And Round It Goes... Where It Stops, Nobody Knows. Round and round you go, when will I stop? Nobody knows.” 
You grabbed your stuff, and you left really fast, “Tell your mother I’ll fuck her soon.” you spoke into the walkie-talkie. 
“We’ve got to get to her before she’s gone. She’s a fucking ghost, we’ve been tracking her for months, and she’s always one step ahead of us. This might be our only chance before she disappears again.” Price told them. Soap was too distracted by the fact you flash banged him with your gorgeous fucking tits. 
Which Price had to admit? A smart thing to do when you’re dealing with four hungry, aroused alphas on your tail. Your tits were a flash beacon even after you headed out of the room with your gear. The limping of your leg and once soap has you in his grasp again? He wouldn’t let you go again. 
Crawling through the ventilator shaft, until you were dragged out by your feet by someone strong enough to get you out of there, and his deep voice hitting the base of your skull like a drum. 
Dragging you from the vent, one swift tug at a time. Before long, you were carried over to Price and Ghost. With Gaz stalking right behind him, intensely staring at you from behind Soap. He had you draped over his right shoulder and your belongings in his other hand. While Gaz carried your sniper and bone knife. 
Once Price taken a closer look at you, removing your shirt and replacing it with a clean, warm, dry shirt. As Price looked for one suitable. 
Soap’s eyes widened as he recognised the tattoo. He’s seen it once before. It’s an incredibly specific tattoo. Only one person he knew of had it. Someone who was thought to be dead. Yet here you were. Very much
..alive. Running around like a scared rabbit. Soap’s heart is racing. 
He knew you weren’t going to go with them quietly. Not with that tattoo.
“Guys, I think we might have stumbled upon someone important, she’s not what we thought she was.” Soap whispered to Ghost outside the medical examination room. 
Ghost looked at Soap sceptically, “What do you mean, Mactavish?”
Soap took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice calm, “The tattoo on her back. It’s not from a book, it’s from a person. The person who had it is... or was... a legend around these parts.” He paused, his eyes searching the room as if he could see through the walls. “Her callsign was Venom, one of the best snipers the military had, until she disappeared. She was thought to be dead after her last mission, but if this is her... she’s been hiding here all along.”
Price’s eyes narrowed as he digested the information. “Venom? That’s a name I’ve heard before. If she’s who you think she is, then she’s worth more than gold to Shepherd. We can’t let her go.” He turned to Gaz, his voice low and commanding. “Keep an eye on the exits, she’s clever. We don’t want her slipping away again.”
Still processing the information, his gaze sharp and calculating. “If that’s true, then we might have a bigger problem on our hands. Get a clearer visual, Soap, and make sure it’s her. We don’t want to spook her before we get a good look at her face and confirm her identity.”
Soap nodded, his eyes glued to the small window in the door of the medical examination room. “On it, boss.” He whispered back, his heart racing with excitement and a hint of fear. Venom was a legend, known for her sharp-shooting skills and unyielding spirit. If she had indeed survived, she would be a powerful ally or a formidable enemy.
Then she would be you, wouldn’t you? When he saw your face? Soap held the new photo with the one they have. They were a perfect match. You were indeed ‘Venom’. A legend from their annals of history straight into his sight. 
He felt his cock thicken, a growling in his chest, his animalistic instincts were now coming to the forefront.
“It’s her, boss. No doubt about it. She’s Venom. I’ve seen that tattoo before, on the back of the woman who trained me.” Soap said with a mix of awe and fear. “I don’t think anyone is crazy enough to be out here for this long. 
Price's eyebrows furrowed, “Venom
 I thought she was dead. General Shepherd killed her.”
“So did everyone else,” Soap replied, “But she's very much alive, and she's in heat. We need to handle this with care. She's not going to come quietly. Or willingly for that matter.”
Price nodded in understanding, his mind racing with the implications of this revelation.“Alright, keep an eye on her. She's a ghost for a reason.” He turned to Ghost, “What do we know about her other than that she's a damn good shot?”
Ghost's eyes narrowed as he recalled the intel he had read, “Venom went dark after her last mission. Rumour has it she took out a high-value target that was off-limits. Her disappearance was sudden, and her file was sealed tighter than a drum. If she's the one in there, she's got a vendetta with someone or something, and it's not us.”
“But she's in heat,” Gaz pointed out, his voice thick with the same primal need Soap had felt earlier. “That
.. That changes things completely.”
Ghost nodded, his voice a low rumble, “It does. She'll be more
 vulnerable. Hesitant to trust.”
“Vulnerable or not,” Soap said, “We can't just barge in there. We need to earn her trust”
“But how? She’s not going to listen, and she’s stubborn like Price.” Gaz said, stroking his jaw, contemplating their next move.
“You’ve been out here the entire time?” Price asked you, both in awe, frustration and a little admiration in his tone. “You’ve been living out here alone all this time?”
“You make it sound far harder than it actually is. Did General Shepherd let you think that, or are you really that stupid enough to think it?” you answered. “With the right kind of knowledge, you can go far and wide. Took out the tracker from my neck, day one, surprised you pups are still working for that bitch.” 
General Shepherd. You were at odds with him from the sound of things. Whether that was a good thing or not? Another thing entirely. Another thing which now had to wait until they had you removed from this ancient building. Regardless of whether you wanted to leave it or not.
“So are you workin for him or what?” you growled. 
“That’s none of your fucken business.” Price snarled at you.
“I think it is and you’re going to tell me regardless of what you think or how you feel about it too.”
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ryuzakemo128 · 14 days ago
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who wants a royalty au of poly141 with pirate hunter reader?
Think about it. Four dukes meet a princess who is coincidentally a pirate hunter.
Dividers: @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics
If you would like to have a say/ input for this idea: Link to a poll.
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The Defiant preys upon other vessels belonging to pirates, bandits, assassins, slavers, marauders, and thieves. Described as a beast with an insatiable appetite. Its prey deliberately chosen before headhunting those with influence inside those few communities. Targeting the ones who gather the most power amongst the pirates, slavers, and marauders.
The defiant is maintained by the pirate ships, she cleaves through in half with the obsidian blade in the front of the war ship. A blade made from obsidian and steel.
The wood of the ships would be used to fix damages incurred, and anything left over would be stored as cargo. Anything of value would be secured in safes to prevent theft from third party groups and individuals. Ensuring nothing of the wreck is left behind once they're done.
The Defiant's crew likely assess the materials on the conquered ships for quality and usability before dismantling them.
Usable wooden components are carefully removed and sorted for potential repairs or reinforcements.
Valuable metals, fabrics, and other resources are extracted and catalogued for later use or trade.
The obsidian blade is used to efficiently cut through enemy ships, minimising damage to the Defiant while maximising the harvestable materials.
Skilled carpenters and blacksmiths on board The Defiant repair and reinforce the ship with the salvaged wood and metal.
Any excess materials are stored in the ship's hold as cargo, providing additional resources for trade or barter.
The Defiant gets large shipments from outposts you have created all over the world, hubs of intelligence gathering, recruitment, trade, repairs, and maintenance. 
Your ties to people within the black market, information brokers, contraband trade, blacksmiths, mercenary services, protection rackets, money laundering, hidden workshops and safe houses. 
Planting disinformation whenever the target needs to be forced out of hiding. 
While also maintaining a close eye on the region as a hub for their spy network. One that you have meticulously established over the years to help hunt down more pirates, obtain more resources and expand their range of influence. 
Working on your own for this long has been taxing on your mind. So how do you do it when things constantly require your attention for one thing or another?
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They called you, ‘Ghost of the High Seas’, ‘The Iron Maiden’, ‘The Merciless’, ‘The Pirate Killer’ and ‘The Human Shark’.  
However, once someone got your loyalty, they would have to do something so heinous and vindictive against you to lose it.
You didn’t give out demands.
You gave out requests.
For things which for sensitive souls in the royal department often took as forceful demands with a dramatic flourish. 
John heard a rumour of how you asked for something. But a Duchess took it as an aggressive demand.
Which he thought was either a declaration of war or an exaggerated complaint about you. Either way, you weren’t to be crossed, regardless of how simple your requests actually were.
You didn't need to raise your voice to get what you wanted; a simple, firm look usually did the trick.
John chuckled to himself whenever someone complained about how you managed to make it sound like a demand. Your diplomacy was as subtle as a sledgehammer, or a knife in the back. Depending on who you were dealing with. 
It worked surprisingly well in your favour.
It was all part of your charm. But you didn’t think you had charm. Something which he vehemently disagreed with you. 
To him, you had it in spades, enough to sink a merchant’s ship. His first meeting with was in court. You were mumbling, grumbling and scowling about having to wear a dress.
“‘I must take care to maintain a vigilant watch over you and all matters of such impropriety.’” you were as sour as a cat trying to get the taste of lemon off their tongue. 
The dress you wore, a midnight blue colour with matte silver trimmings, and silver embroidery in the skirts. The skirts hovered just above the marble floor.
Custom-made as well as custom-designed to suit your personality and fit your physique perfectly. The dress in made of soft feeling velvet. The underskirts of the dress have both satin and silk underlay. Underneath the silk and satin is a layer of cotton for added comfort.
The three throwing knives sat firmly. Comfortably in your garter. It provided another level of security in case you felt cornered by someone you didn’t trust. The fan you used to cool yourself down had feathered tips along the edge, matching your dress.
It was all part of your charm. 
Which had earned you the respect of many and the fear of those who knew you well. Price had seen it in action during your second meeting. You'd simply looked at a man twice your size and said.
“Might I entreat you for the loan of that map? Your generosity would be greatly appreciated.” and somehow, it had ended with him handing it over without a fight. It was uncanny.
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“I am wholly indifferent to the duration required for its completion, provided that the task is executed with care. Such an undertaking demands an ample allowance of time, for one cannot hasten the attainment of perfection, even should the final result fail to appear flawless to the discerning eye of another.” you told your second-in-command.
You weren't petty, vindictive or sadistic. The preferred term you loved to call yourself is more, realistic, tinged with cynicism in your terms and conditions.
Strolling right past the four of them. Blatantly ignoring them. Not even giving them a sideways glance.
Your mind wasn’t focused on any of them. You had a target on your mind. The focus totally on your own mission. Your own priorities.
"Didn't your father give you a warship at sixteen?" John would overhear in complete disbelief. A warship for your sixteenth birthday? Was your father mad or just incredibly wealthy?
"I didn't just hear that, did you hear what I just heard? I'm not going hearing things, am I?" Kyle asked the other three.
"The defiant is more than enough. It dwarfs every warship stationed at this dock, and you know it." you protested. "It will cleave those pathetic pirates in two, or I will die trying."
The other person's voice is muffled. Your voice was loud enough to echo own the hallway. Simon couldn’t help but wonder how long you’ve been at sea for. Some say it has been almost eleven years. But that couldn’t be right. It would mean you were sixteen when you started Pirate hunting. 
“Did you hear that Price? Eleven years. What does eleven years sound to you if they were spent at sea the entire time?” Gaz asked Price. 
“Either a living legend or a madwoman.” John answered.
“Possibly both.” Simon interjected. 
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When Price had the misfortune timing of coming across you in person a second time. Your face, had a sickening, twisted Cheshire grin painted across your face. The two sword slicing through pirates like a hot knife through butter. Slicing and cutting them down to size. 
It was, by the lord above, it was enjoyment on your face. Unhinged joy radiating as you continued to cut them down. 
Then a loud sound came from your throat. 
Your war cry sounded like a siren's song to your crew, a battle hymn echoing  through the port as you led them further into the fray. 
These pirates had no idea what was coming for them, who was coming for them, but the four shadows lurking in the alleyways certainly did. Watching with a mix of horror and fascination as you and your loyal band of warriors descended upon the marauders like the wrath of Neptune's own hand.
You weren't just a killer; you were a strategist. Knowing what how to strip things down fast enough to leave someone with nothing to work with. It’s a system you are familiar with. A system you crafted your own purposes.
The stragglers were picked off by your archers. As the fight quickly came to an end. 
“Look, take a real good look. The defiant cannibalises other ships as it is MEANT to be. To devour, to eat, to survive. And we do it well. She does it well.”
Price couldn't help but begrudgingly admit you had a point. The way your crew moved with precision, stripping the enemy vessels of their resources, was surgical. It is adamantly clear the Defiant is more than just a ship to you; it is a living, breathing entity you had tamed and turned into a weapon of war.
“Awful thing for morally minded people, to be sure.” you stated. “But sharks eat, lurk, move around, they don't stand idle because they're pretty or have a fancy title. They survive.”
“And you know what we do? SURVIVE.”
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Perhaps it was the time Johnny seduced you into walking to their home in person a third time, whispering honeyed words into your ears like he knew what you were capable without really knowing what kind of person you are.
“You and your questions. I love them. Please tell me you have more.” you answered, taping the tips of your fingers together.
Price gripped the pommel of his sword upon hearing your voice coming through the front door. As his lover, their lover Duke John MacTavish, made his blatant seduction attempt in front of him, Duke Kyle Garrick and Duke Simon Riley. Their anger thrown towards you, as if you should have known better, despite not knowing he was spoken for already. How could you have known that? 
You tapped the tips of your fingers together nervously. “I will take my leave. My deepest apologies, your grace.” you were a rank higher. Tipsy sure. But you weren’t going to stay in a den full of lions. 
Simon blocked your exit, leaving your heart beating fast like a rabbit running from its predator. As the adrenaline building up inside, finally kicking in. “Goin somewhere luvie?” he asked. 
Price placed a hand on your shoulder, you were certain you were going to die right then and there. Was it the way your hair had crimson red flowers woven into your loose braid? Was it the matching teardrop earrings in your ears? 
“Your grace, if I may.” you said, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice. As if you were willing your courage to come back to you. 
“You may not.” Price uttered into your ear, guiding you back into the depths of the room again. “As you might observe, your... reputation has indeed found its way to us. Yet, it is our friend Johnny, who, possessing a certain flair for eloquence, appears to have made no small impression upon your good self as well.”
“I can always find someone else.” you protested. Meekly. 
“But why would you need to? Why would you even want to?” Price cooed into your ear. “You have four willing men at your service.”
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ryuzakemo128 · 7 days ago
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MDNI
Imagine retired! hitman! female reader. Think John Wick style.
"I'm retired." you say.
"I don't kill anymore." you remind.
"I don't need to go back." you protest.
But as soon as one of them gets hurt? You don't hesitate in making it personal.
The mask is on.
The gun is out.
And your rage is felt.
Your rage is real.
Your facade is gone.
"Hell is here. Repent while you can." uttered from the father to his son who harmed your love.
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ryuzakemo128 · 9 days ago
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Who eats alone, dies alone.
Pairing: Poly141 x Outlaw! Female Reader Content Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not eat, kidnapping, murder, cheating, affairs, coercion to get sex and a 'family', reader is bisexual, tall and plus sized, misogyny, violence against women, violence, and other things that will make your stomach turn. Don't read if you're squeamish. word Count: 3074
Masterlist
Credit 4 Dividers: @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics
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You weren’t a small.
You were tall.
You were never considered a pretty little young thing like the women you envied around you. The anger at your circumstances, at yourself, burned inside you like a furnace and the only thing to fuel your wrath was bloodshed.
You're useless, aren’t you if you can’t be like the surrounding women?
What use is your existence if you're scaring people away?
Your charm lured in a victim for your boss. But you didn’t care.
Your boss being a pretty young blonde with enough money to make the oil barons wish she was their wife.
You shot three people in order to get to your target, you didn’t even look at them.
The gun felt light in your hands, the three bodies dropped pretty quickly. 
“Get in.” you ordered. Slamming the carriage door after getting in with him to deter from leaving. You pointed the gun in his direction, “I would hate for someone to get the wrong idea that we’re together.” you spoke in a low husky tone. The smell of his fear drifting to your nose. You might be enjoying this a little too much. Might.
You brought out the handcuffs and snapped them wright on his wrists. Your gloved fingers making sure he can’t simply run away without look too suspicious. 
Ghost called out to Price whom was shooting at the caravan as it rode off into the dirt and dust. They got there far too late. Like they always do. Too late to make any kind of real proper change. 
As soap looked around the medium-sized carriage for an escape route, “Sweetheart, Sugar, darlin. You’re goin no where. You’re stayin on that sweet arse of yours and accepting how things are for time bein.”  You whispered into his ear. 
“I don’t want this to become permanent. So I suggest you compose yourself. A lovely woman will make sure you’re well-fed and cared for. And you’ll be thankin the good lord for everything she is.” you winked at him. Right as the carriage bumped and jostled around along the uneven terrain. 
Price saw you in person the following week with information on a new target. The one who took Johnny MacTavish. The same women who killed three men without a single sign of remorse in her eyes. 
Finding none made his stomach drop.
His heart beats faster now. 
He knew you. The woman kicked out from the church his parents always went to on a Sunday morning. He remembered how a man kicked you in the stomach until you coughed up blood from the blunt force to your stomach. Always kicking himself for never standing up for you. 
Had he known you were forced to take this path alone, then. What would he have done? 
Your mother eventually passed from a cancer which ate at her mind as well as her soul. Your father cheating on her with the maids inside your manor. He thought his amassed wealth would grant him a front row seat straight into heaven by the time he died. Not that he have ever personally read the actual thing himself. He knew a few proverbs and apparently it’s all he ‘needed’. To your poor mother’s dismay, who had actually read it in her youth.
Your eyes looked into his, a wall of steel and stone standing before him. Unlike the woman who was beaten by men just because she couldn’t control her sexuality. The faint scar along the left side of your jawline, a memory and a reminder that men could never be trusted.
Why did you take Soap so aggressively? So much show of power from someone in a short amount of time. It was like you were begging to be shot down. 
But Price knew better than to take a book by its cover. He’s seen the same look in your eyes as the men he had taken to be his lovers years ago. The look of someone who had seen too much, felt too much pain, and was now numb to the world around them. Someone who could endure any amount of pain or punishment and keep coming back for more.
Price still speaks to your father. Not that he would admit this to your face. ‘A monster by association’ you would call him. Not like you would be completely wrong. But you wouldn’t be right at the same time. Though he knew you wouldn’t care for the complexities or details. 
They’ve seen your type, your kind and your brood before. Thrown away like yesterday’s garbage. Thrown to the curb like you weren’t worth a damn thing. Not like you shown it on your face how much it bothered you. Not like you could get in somebody’s face and scream at them before. Not like you can now.
You never felt so free in your life. 
A pity, things came to a head this way.
He didn’t want you dead. He wanted you to bring MacTavish back to them. But it was certainly clear you weren’t going to do to just that. Not like you could defy your boss’s orders in the way he desired you to. If you did, you would be on the streets again, and who was he to tell you to leave a home you found on your own? 
Maddening to be sure. To be stuck between a rock and a hard place. You were making your own way to support yourself, your own way to bend the world to your own image and your own liking. Crafting it to your own whims and desires, like you enjoyed the thought of playing god to serve yourself alone.
Price had to regroup to the others. Before things got messy like it had last time. Three dead in the attempt to blockade you. Like a ram, you barrelled through like they weren’t worth a damn thing. Ruthless in your loyal servitude. A pity. It should have been him you were serving instead.
To have you bent over. 
What a sight that would be. 
But he knew your boss. The dinner party he’s invited to indicate as such. 
Hoping he would be able to sneak Johnny out of there. While she played hostess to her dinner guests with a fake smile. One which never seemed to reach her eyes. A plastered, well-rehearsed smile which looked haunting if you knew sadistic ways. There wasn’t much he could do for him from this far away. 
If you were there? It would be borderline impossible to get him out of that estate. No matter what. He couldn’t do a damn thing. 
“If she’s there, we won’t be able to get him back, Kyle.” price protested, waving at the naive man’s suggestion. “She’s like a dog with a bone, relentless, tenacious, a loyal bloodhound. And I don’t think it’s the money keeping her loyal, either.” 
He wasn’t wrong. You weren’t loyal to her for the money alone, were you? The money made things easier to swallow. Easy to deal with the eccentric nature of her whims of her sexual drive. You couldn’t be bothered to argue with the semantics of why you worked for her. The captives didn’t need to know. Anyone outside wouldn’t understand either.
Not in the ways you would have hoped to get. You would repent later. Repent tomorrow. But tomorrow is always one day away, and you were allergic to the thought of confession. To be brought to your knees because of something as fickle as truth. To escape the wooden pressures of the crucifix and sermons spoken from inside their little chapels won’t touch you again. 
Not while you still live and breathe. 
You were in the hands of a powerful woman married to an oil baron who was away for months at a time. Known for his thing for bringing in young mistresses to breed like some kind of rabid dog. You ignored how some woman would be paid to live there with his wife. Normally as well paid maids and servants. What better way to keep your marriage and the women you found attractive all in one place? 
According to him, it didn’t sound nearly as insane as his wife’s sadistic streak of kidnapping young men from the streets to play with as her one-way lovers. A way to cope with the sadistic desires from his wife, or did he enjoy it too much to take much of an issue with her actions? Who knew. As far as everyone else is concerned. Those men disappeared from the face of the earth.
Gone. Never to found again. Not even their loved ones ever knew what happened to them. But you did. Some of them died trying to escape. Mauled by vicious guard dogs on their front lawn or starved. 
You still remember when your boss spanked you hard enough to make cum like crazy. Not that you could ever explore that side of you. Not like you ever could. Not with the parents you have. “Call me mummy.” she’d hiss into your ear as she’d finger your clit. Masterfully. 
She knew your secret. The kind which could get you killed if the right kind of people knew about it. It’s how she kept you in check. The strangle hold on you was real. Even as Soap was forced to watch the same night, he was brought in to her estate. 
A bisexual woman of your standing? You wouldn’t last a week by yourself. You didn’t want them to that secret. The other being shunned by the church you used to attend with your parents. The church disowned you and threatened your parents to urge them to do the same. When your parents refused because they didn’t trust what the church tried to say.
With your mother dead.
Your father lost to himself with the lust of women and greed of the green dollar bills. 
Picking up a gun, learning how to shoot, learning how to intimidate, and learning to forgive yourself for hurting so damn much. 
You were finally good at something.
Scared men paid more. Scared men didn’t argue. And scared men didn’t survive.
Those who crossed you wished they never saw you. Those who survived knew what kind of monster lurked beneath your eyes. 
The most dangerous thing someone could be is a dangerous woman with nothing to lose and everything to gain. And you played up your dangerous look, and attitude to the absolute maximum. Unhinged in the ways you felt alive. Unhinged in ways men would be praised for. You didn’t need a mirror to know you looked every bit of the part of a dangerous gun slinging outlaw you made yourself into. Like you always wanted to be. Like you are meant to be. 
A cold-heart gunslinger because otherwise you would have been dead years ago. How your trench coat bellowed and how your bandana remained firmly on the lower half of your face. Hiding your identity. Keeping others from trying to find you or tracking you down. Covering your mouth in the covers of darkness. Either way, it worked well for you.
The stallion you rode on while the carriage was getting repaired in the workshop just outside of town. The black horse, a symbol of your capabilities and tenacious spirit. The woman you served had the audacity to still call herself, ‘Lady of the Sapphire Manor’.
You weren’t like her. You were never like her. Never fed into someone’s desire for company like she did with you.
The same manor is technically yours by all rights and reason in terms of inheriting after your mother passed on. It was little to no wonder as to who should own that manor. 
Your father was the first person you murdered. Tied him up on a wooden chair in the backyard, stacking every portrait containing his likeness painted or printed onto them into a bonfire formation. Piling them up around him like a final act of self realisation. He was asleep until you poured that gasoline over him. 
The cold, biting, gasoline-soaked person who gave you life as Soap watched from the balcony in the second story of the manor. Soap saw you getting ready to murder your father in cold blood. This wasn't any old stranger you could emotionally detach yourself from. This was your bloodline.
You didn’t blink.
You didn’t flinch.
Looking over to the woman in the balcony for approval. Her approval. ‘It’s like she needs it, like she craves it, to be owned completely instead of wandering around and wondering if you’ll ever fit anywhere.’ Soap pondered watching this as he remained tied up in his wooden chair. 
The match flicked to the match box, the fire burning the match stick to the gasoline covered man. As his pleas for mercy were ignored, as his screams splitting the night sky as the flames licked his flesh until he was nothing but burned flesh and bone. The flames reflected in your eyes. It’s clear kidnapping, keeping people hostage, tormenting hostages weren’t enough anymore. 
You’re no longer satisfied with small amounts of murder, mayhem, chaos, and pain. You wanted Soap to see the real thing. To smell the burning flesh from people who were the real monsters in the world, and you wouldn’t be satisfied until he saw everything. 
He wasn’t like the rest. He didn’t belong in your world. Just like you didn’t belong in his. You have a part to play. You played it so well.
A monster. A terrible beast. Unloved and unlovable. You had to play the role of the monster to survive.
Soap found him high as a kite walking to his lovers without his pants on with only fifty dollars to his name. Pockets full of opium. No memory of how he got inside the manor. Plenty of memories of all the horrors lying inside the depth of Sapphire Manor. Inflicted by you for the amusement of ‘The Lady’. 
“We’re dead price. DEAD long before we knew she existed. You don’t see it. You’ll never see it. I have seen it. We’re dead.” his nonsenual muttering as Soap gripped his face, rocking him side to side like they were in some kind of long term hospice centre on giant wheels. Too afraid to stop moving in the case, he heard the screams of the man he watched burn to death come back. 
“She killed her father Price. She turned him into a human bonfire and watched him burn.” Soap continued to blabber on and on. 
This all happened in a matter of four days and five nights. Breaking him until he couldn’t trust what he saw in the dark. Always checking to see if you were standing in the darkness. Checking outside his window every five minutes, sometimes hallucinating you were standing outside. 
You were never physically there. You haven’t been since you left him in the middle of town to walk home alone. Likewise, you weren’t a babysitter and you got what you wanted from him. An excuse to get more from your boss. A pay raise. 
Torture isn’t a one shoe fits all scenario. It is usually tailored to the individual targeted. But somehow your methods were brutal enough to break every man The Lady held within Sapphire Manor. The letter you had left in his pants that you gave through the mail slot. 
‘The lady holds no interest in a man who's lost his wits, Soap. Perhaps it's time for you to leave us. I return you to your ‘family’ what ever that is. Lest this be a reminder to keep your nose out of her opium business and shove off elsewhere. 
You turned him into a broken man. Like you have done so many times before with so many other men. A master of torture. A musician in the realm of pain, fear, and madness. You weave it well. You play with it like an artist who poked and prodded, working with your clay. Moulding people over and over. Swimming in the sea of your seemingly eternal madness. 
Taxidermy people sitting in various rooms, permanently frozen in their state of distress, stuffed and poised like hunters did with their animal trophies. Redesigned, redressed and posed in ways you wanted them to look. Another thing, The Lady took pride in her home. People would assume they were fake and none the wiser. Unless they knew of the method of how they came to be. They will never know the gruesome side. 
Your methods of torture evolve after each ‘failure’ finding what works and what needed to be changed. The opium haze of your victims made them easier for them to ply the information from their lips, easier for you to manipulate. You weren’t always so good at this, your first attempts were clumsy and lacked finesse, but with each soul you crushed, each man you bent to her will, you grew more adept, more skilled, more terrifying.
When it came to dosing them with morphine on the second day? The effect of the morphine made them susceptible to suggestion, one tool of many you used to help get you what you wanted from them. You didn’t have to get to the actual torture if they gave you what you wanted. Gentle whispered promises to stop if they talked. 
Was it really so hard to imagine soap gave in so quickly?
 You didn’t even need to get your hands dirty with the actual torture. 
Who knew imagery of darkness, formed and sculpted by your own hand, was enough to break people? 
Price shouldn’t blame him from folding so quickly. If you call being stuck there for four days and five nights relatively quick. Which, in terms of torture? 
It was a record.
The only one who went mad in such a short time. A sick, twisted form of pride gurgled inside you. Chewing at the leftover rage you kept in the furnace called your brain. 
The Lady had eyes everywhere in her manor, and you were just one set of eyes under her service. A gatekeeper. The one who decided who kept their sanity or not. If they even got to see the light of day again, that is. 
What you are now? He wouldn’t have guessed you would have become. He would have called anyone mad for thinking this would have happened anyway. That you were doomed from the start.
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ryuzakemo128 · 1 month ago
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Pairing: Poly 141 x Reaper! Forensics Pathologist! Female reader
Masterlist - Part One - Part Two - Part Three
Note: Only the reader's hair colour is defined. Everything else is up to you. Also the third image is what I image you wearing in this fic.
“Confused is all. As to why you of all people are at my doorstep. Don’t you pups know what death looks like? Or do you prefer to experience it yourself?” you raised an eyebrow at their interference. Your long black onyx nails tapping the back of your clipboard.
A reaper right in front of their face. Disguised as a Forensics Pathologist, a mortician, a keeper of the dead.
John Price, the stern-faced leader of Task Force 141, took a step back, eyeing the woman with a mix of wariness and curiosity. “We've seen plenty of it,” he replied, his British accent thick and commanding. “But we're not here for a lecture on mortality, Doc.”
“Pity. You look like you need one. Several. Of. Them. Perhaps then you will promptly understand how important my work is.”
Your hair looked like molten lava, the layers of charcoal, auburn, and copper framing your sharp face, which was devoid of any make-up except for the crimson lipstick that stood out against the starkness of your teeth.
“Do you think you scare me scotsman? I know more about life than you lived in a year.”
Your eyes bore into Soap, holding his gaze as if challenging him to dare.
“Shoot me foolish man, go on, do it, see what kind of 'damage' you won't be able to do.”
Because no one can kill death. And they will all come to her eventually.
Death is the end of everything.
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Divider Credit: @cafekitsune
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ryuzakemo128 · 30 days ago
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Grim Reaper Part Nine
Pairing: Poly 141 x female reader / Female reader/ You x Her mental health x König
Content Warnings: Violence, bloodshed, injuries, Premeditated murder on the brain (Female Reader), swearing.
Words: 756
Note: Sorry for a short one. Wanted to get this one out. Next one will be longer I promise.
Masterlist - Prequel - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine
Supernatural AU — Poem
Credit for Dividers:@cafekitsune + @strangergraphics
Summary: Was I stupid to love you? Was I reckless to help? Was it obvious to anybody else? That I have fallen for a lie. You were never on my side.  Fool me once, fool me twice. Are you death or paradise?
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Was I stupid to love you? Was I reckless to help? Was it obvious to anybody else? That I have fallen for a lie. You were never on my side.  Fool me once, fool me twice. Are you death or paradise?
Was I the problem? Did I do something to make you hate me so much? 
Why didn’t you just leave me instead of lying so many times to my face?
Was I stupid to love you? Was I reckless to help? Was it obvious to anybody else? 
I hope you rot in this hell you have made yourself. It’s my last gift I will give to you.
You knew how my life was before I met you. Yet you still did this to me. 
Cold. Calculated. That is all you will ever be.
If I had the power to curse you. I would have done it long ago. 
Once I leave this house, this country all over again. Do yourself a favour. Stay away from me.
Stay far, far away from me.
Otherwise, I can and most absolutely will kill you myself.
If you wish to keep your life.
Stay in your country and I will stay in mine.
I don’t want to be pushed into a corner. But you keep being adamant on doing so.
Don’t blame me when I bite you. Blame yourself for ignoring the warning signs.
You are the reason we are no longer married. Take accountability for your actions and shut the fuck up. 
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König. You still don’t know if that’s his actual name or just simply a call sign. He never told you either way. 
But what does it matter? 
The man who had once been the epitome of comfort and support in your life had become a shadow of his former self. The trust that had once been as solid as steel between you had been shattered into a million pieces.
Leaving a gaping chasm of doubt and anger in its place. 
The coldness in his eyes, the way he looked at you now, it was like you were nothing but a stranger to him. 
Someone who had merely crossed his path at the wrong time.
"I will leave, and you won't see me again." you snarl, getting up to get your things.
König remains seated, his expression unreadable. "Reaper, I know you're upset, but we need to talk about this."
"There's nothing to talk about. You chose to cheat. You made that choice. Suffer the consequences. I'm not the one who needs to explain anything. You're the one who broke our vows.” 
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“My life is in my hands. I will not become who you are.” You told him. Your knuckles turning white from the way you turned your hands into fists. You were so tired of the kind of excuses coming from the mouths of men who neither cared nor wanted you around. 
You weren’t going to let König know you again. To choose death than suffer through his presence a second time. It made so much sense to you. You do enough talk. What did you learn from your mistakes? Did you even learn from them at all? 
If he can’t see it. May he drown inside his endless well of pitiful tears. 
You are not his wife, his friend, his punching bag. The call sign ‘Grim Reaper’? You earned it for a reason. Too bad he’s too blind to see it. 
What has eyes but cannot see? 
Escape.
Escape and run faster than he can hope to catch up. 
If he can’t take the hint, then
..you would have to kill him yourself.
Can’t be too hard to kill a six-foot ten adult man, right?
You can hear the shouting between him and his girlfriend. A sickening, twisted grin spreads across your face. Sweet revenge for the child you lost years ago.  Weight began to lift from your shoulders. It wasn’t over by a long shot. But now you know how to twist the knife to get what you wanted in order to leave. 
To head back home where you felt like you belonged completely. 
Home. Your home. 
The one where you don’t have to hide from broken bottles, yelling, shouting, endless need to feel like you have to explain yourself. 
Could it still be there when you go back? Will it still be there now?
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ryuzakemo128 · 10 days ago
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How Did You Find Me?
Pairing: Duke!Poly!141 x female reader/ you cw: drug use, protestation, smut, sexual tension, your ex shows up, hinting at possible opium repeat use. Words: 627 Masterlist Divider Credit: @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics Summary: How did they find you there?
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John interrupted your time with your ex, he noticed you were blindfolded and your ex’s cock was about to slide into your wet, sopping warmth when John decided to walk into your bedroom. You didn’t think he’d find out so quickly. You were mistaken when you thought you could hide this from him. 
What were you doing with your pathetic excuse of an ex? You should have gone to them instead if you were this desperate. 
What are you doing getting all hot and bothered, squirming around for a guy who would pretend your relationship wasn’t real to satisfy his mother’s concern? 
Eyes burning with a fury you could feel despite the pastel pink silk blindfold covering your eyes. You picked it out, thinking it would be a fun time to spend separating yourself from the four dukes whomst thought were losing a lover a month ago. 
You never thought they’d find you this fast. As you were always careful about who was looking at you, who saw what part of you and where. How did they know to find you in some dingy little brothel on the coast of Somalia? 
The thought of you getting yourself caught in such a compromising position. Both terrified you and aroused you at the same time. 
But the voice cutting through the fog is unmistakable. High from the opium you took to take the edge off. Thinking, ‘They’re not going to know. They won’t find me down here’ and ‘I’ve done a little prostitution work for the guy. Who says I can’t do it again?’.
It wasn’t until you were carried off the bed by someone else completely, it wasn’t until the blindfold is ripped from your face that you see someone other than John. Simon’s glare through the bright sunlight, sun rays spilling through from outside peering through the windows. The sudden bright light making you squint your eyes. 
Was your ship that recognisable in the dark, gloomy skies? What urged them to find you like this? Who told them to look for you? Why did they look for you?
The low groan from the depths of your throat as the room spiral, just enough to make you sick if you opened your eyes again. The nausea building inside your stomach. The combination of gin and opium. 
A dreadful idea on your part. One could also say it was a godawful one. A careless action to undertake.
“Who do you think you are? Recklessly endangering yourself in a
..place like this?” Simon hissed into your ear.
You tried opening up your eyes again, “I can explain everything.” 
The four dukes weren’t having any of it. They spotted you after months of trying to find you again. “I’d rather not hear your excuses right now.” John wiped the opium from your nose, his anger palpable, clearly appalled with the state they found you in. 
Your creamy nectar all over the centre of your thighs like a begotten, exiled son, a symbol of your lost innocence to a man who didn’t even bother to remember your name after he’d had his fill. 
The desperation mixed in with the opium, the sex, the lust and the carnal need to be taken like you were some kind of thrill seeker. Seeking out new tastes only to forget them as soon as you have taken the first bite. 
It wasn’t the first time you tried opium. As you so drunkenly state on the way to your lovely Defiant. Leaving your ex behind. Right inside the brothel’s room, heart pounding inside his chest. Fuming with rage at their interference. 
By the time you were awake again or conscious again, you were inside your bedroom heaving, vomiting into your bucket. 
How did they find you there?
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ryuzakemo128 · 7 days ago
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who wants an Italian housewife who's secretly a serial killer fic?
I'm talking hot curvy housewife with two kids. Educated. Smart.
I'm talkin "Be right there dear. I have an awful mess to clean up." and dissolving a dead guy in a bathtub of acid.
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ryuzakemo128 · 11 days ago
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MDNI 18+
CW: Self esteem issues, female reader thinking negatively. Depression based. Implication of being at least 6'4" or above, heavy weapons specialist.
Pairing: Poly141 x plus-sized! Tall! Female Reader
Masterlist - Part One - Part Two
You were used to being pushed aside or asked to give your friend's number because they were far more attractive to look at. Who were you compared to them? Nothing.
So you stopped hanging out with your friends as much, making excuses as to why you needed to take a rain check. "I'm not feeling up for it. Maybe next weekend?"
Your friends complain about how you never hang out as much anymore. But what can you do? Tell them you have no luck in the dating world and that you were waiting for whatever god there was to kill to you and take you out of this world.
They wouldn't understand.
They never do.
What are you to someone if you're only good at killing people?
What use are you beyond wielding a gun heavy enough to shatter bones from the recoil alone?
Who are you?
WHO ARE YOU?
You help everyone.
But who helps you?
You care for everyone.
But who cares for you?
To call you little in spite of your height towering like skyscrapers above.
Who do you crawl to when you want nothing more than to crawl within your shell and perish inside your bones, inside your hearth, inside your supposed comfort of home?
Does anyone realise you're gone?
Or do you feel so cold inside, feeling like nothing could hope to warm you. If it ever can ever heat you up?
Who are you?
What are you?
Where are you?
Where did you go?
Where are you going?
Can you please be ok?
Can you please call home?
I miss you.
Please come back.
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ryuzakemo128 · 25 days ago
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Snippet of future one shot
Pairing: Poly141 x female reader (maybe?) / Johnny MacTavish x female reader
cw: cheating, affair, Johnny runs away from home, swearing, Johnny's ex-girlfriend appears.
Words: (so far) 989
Johnny didn’t know where he was going. But he had to go away from all of them. He didn’t want to see any of them. Ever again if he had anything to do with it. The longer he spends away from you. The better it would be.
“I don’t want to hear your excuses because at the end of the day it’s all it is. Excuses, upon excuses. I hope you’re happy with yourself.” 
Johnny didn’t know where he was going. But he had to go away from all of them. He didn’t want to see any of them. Ever again if he had anything to do with it. The longer he spent time away from you. The better it would be.
A mantra to keep himself from spinning out of control. His hands gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.
You saw his tinder profile go back up. Your heart dropped to your stomach, hoping it wasn't him. Your heart begged for it not to be him. 
In Johnny's defence, he didn't know you knew them already. “I want a transfer out of task force 141.” He told Captain Price. It wasn't a request. It was a demand. He was demanding a transfer. 
Price looked up at Johnny, he could feel the anger he had for him, Simon and Kyle radiating from Johnny. He didn't know Johnny could be so pointed, so harsh, so willing to leave them for some other team. 
If looks could kill, price sworn he would be dead already. 
Johnny wasn't dumb like you would have loved to call him behind his back. Demolitions, explosives, that doesn't scream dumb ass like you told everyone around you. Laughing at him behind his back like he wouldn't have caught you in the act with his team members. 
He punched John Price over and over that night until he had to be dragged off. Which didn't stop him from punching Simon, the guy who pulled him off. Who knew such a short guy could hold so much anger? 
When you saw him with his ex-girlfriend the next morning, what did you expect would happen? Did you really think he would crawl back to you on his hands and knees like some kind of dog? No. 
He has more self-respect than that. Far more than you have ever given him. 
Now that you see him crying into the shoulder of his ex-girlfriend. Her arms wrapped firmly around him as his sobs racked through his body. 
Grim, his ex-girlfriend who he broke-up with because things weren't working out between them. They decided it was better to remain friends afterwards. He never told you because you never asked. 
And because you never asked about her. You are about to lose your boyfriend for good. 
In hindsight, you should have asked if had dated anyone prior to you. Too late now, isn't it? You got what you wanted from him, and now he's gone. You pushed him so far, he snapped. What kind of person does that to someone who wants to be with you? 
Perhaps he didn't see it at first. Perhaps he only thought you were fussy about what kind of treatment you preferred to get from him. 
So you listened in to their conversation, you couldn't help yourself, Part of you wanted to know. 
“Sometimes you don't really know a person as much as you think.” She mused, her voice, rich and deep. Not quite deep as Simon's. But deep enough to feel like it scratched something deep in the back of your skull. 
“I wish she would have just broken up with me. I don't know if I can go back there. I don't think I want to see her.” Johnny's breath hitches, swallowing down another sob building up again. 
He didn't want to touch you, you would brush your hand against his, and he would flinch at your touch, pulling away from you completely. 
“She's touching me more now. But I don't like it anymore. I mean, I used to. But now I don't. What the hell am I supposed to do?” 
“Break up with her.”
You swallowed hard when you heard her answer. 
Short. Straight to point. It didn't leave room to budge or for doubt to creep in. 
“I can't break up with her with no place to stay afterwards. Everything is in her name. I forgot how much control I gave her. I don't think I'll be able to get out of this break up alive, let alone sane.” Johnny groaned, thinking about the next steps he wanted to take. 
Grim pulled up in her Ford F-450 Super Duty, something Johnny felt rather intimidating because of how it looked. But right now it was a comforting sight. He knew he shouldn't feel guilty about his choice. But what else could he do? All his anger is dried up, and now he's just exhausted.
Grim put classical music on as they pulled out of the drive way to head to her home in Coventry. In the state where she used to live with him. The place where he could just exist without having to pretend to be someone else. Someone you liked to see more of because it meant you paid some form of attention to him.
Running away from his problems like his mother said he would. What else could he do? What more could he give? 
He didn’t know what to do. So he turned to his ex-girlfriend like a drowning sailor yelling for help in the open seas. Where were you? Possibly in one of their beds. He didn’t care to know more than that. 
He reactivated his tinder profile and put his notifications on ‘DO Not Disturb’. He didn’t want to hear anything from them or you. 
When you came back into your apartment, all of his things were gone, and he was nowhere to be found.
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