You're walking the footpath in town after shopping in Manchester, maybe you're visiting or just moved there. You crave community, so you're saying hi to the people who look the friendliest or seem to have common interests with you.
Most people waved or smiled back, and if you're lucky, they'll return a compliment you've dished out.
Then, walking toward you, is a tall man, muscular and built just about to the heavens. In any other scenario, you wouldn't have said a thing, but this man happened to be wearing merch from your favourite band, a black hoodie with the logo. It was simple, but any fan would recognise it.
"I really like your hoodie." You tell him as he'd pass by, a bright smile on your beautiful face.
He'd look at you, but his feet wouldn't stop as he grasped at anything to say back.
"Thank- uh- I- f-mm. Good- Have a good.." He stumbles but keeps walking, as if nothing happened. You keep walking too, fighting a grin as you turn away from him.
"Fuck's sake!" You hear the man's voice growl at himself from behind you, clearly frustrated with his own fumble.
i have more cod art ideas but havent had the time yet to actually do them cause i entered in an art swap event and have 2 comms to do MY STEAK IS TOO BUTTERY AND LOBSTER IS TOO JUICY 💔💔💔💔
Have you ever heard of like the old tradition that executioners were sometimes allowed to pardon a female criminal if she agreed to become his wife since it was harder to get married as an executioner. I feel like you’d go crazy for that premise. Also I love you.
ive been brewing over this all daaayyy its plaguing meeeee
he's a quiet man. he does this solely because its a necessity. maybe he's heavily scarred under the mask, unable to hold any other job or wife-
so when you beg for your life, he gives you an out.
"it's death," he says quietly. "or a prison with me."
the ones who sentenced you fight, of course. they call you a witch, a monster-
but at the end of the day, his axe is clean and he calls you his wife.
I dont think you see his face for a while. he settles into bed after candlelight is out and leaves before the sun rises. he doesnt sleep next to you, asks you nothing, silently eats the food you make.
"If you're not going to treat me as a wife," you say. "Why even marry me?"
He moves his spoon in the glop you had made for dinner. You were never a perfect housemaker.
when you do see his face, its worse than you imagined. its scarred, teeth exposed through his cheek, skin pink and shiny. It's only for a moment and he moves quickly, snuffing the fire.
"Don't-" he warns in in the dark.
"Come to my bed tonight," you say. "Snow is coming and the house gets cold."
HELP MEEEEEE Does anyone know who posted that one drabble where it was something about soap and gaz dressing up as dionne and cher from clueless for halloween and price seeing it... i stg i thought i liked it but i cant find it anymore 💔💔💔
You had a plan, but never could have anticipated… this.
Ghost/Soap/female reader - throuple fic
Please read this post
AO3 / all works are 18+
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Part Seven
Part Eight
Part Nine
Part Ten
Part Eleven
Part Twelve
Part Thirteen
Part Fourteen
Part Fifteen
Part Sixteen
Part Seventeen
Part Eighteen
Part Nineteen
Part Twenty
Part Twenty One
Part Twenty Two
Just imagine sitting in Ghost's lap while you do his makeup.
He asks to try your mascara. Voice soft, not nervous exactly, he knows you'd never mock him for asking. But timid. Like deep down he still feels like he's not allowed to even try.
Before every mission he takes his time applying his eye black. Each stroke deliberate and careful. Giving himself a quiet moment to stare in the mirror before he smudges it. Messy like all the other soldiers do.
But with you it's different. He watches your tongue poke out of the corner of your mouth as you focus on each gentle brush stroke. You cup his cheek like he's something precious to hold.
You can't bear to cover his pretty blonde lashes. But when he looks up at you so sweetly how can you refuse. His cheeks turn pink when he sees himself in the little mirror you hand him. His eyes dark and almost sultry. It makes his stomach flutter.
Almost immediately though he's overwhelmed by the feeling. His lashes sticking together and he mumbles apologies before asking you to take it off. And you do, kissing his cheeks in between each swipe of makeup remover.
Reader joins 141 and immediately notices hybrid Simon hasn't shed the velvet from his antlers, we grew up around a buck or are a buck idrc.
It's itchy and horrible and shedding the velvet would be almost euphoric but nobody ever taught Simon how, in fact he was shamed as a child and called disgusting for rubbing on things to try and shed the velvet so he doesn't anymore even though it's bothersome.. We HAVE to help him!! Now!!
This got me reading abt velvet shedding then reading abt velvet harvesting (didnt know that was a thing) and now im sad :( anyways here's som fluff to make it better! ^^
When Laswell tells you there will be another hybrid on your team, you're ecstatic! As a wolf hybrid coming from an otherwise all-human team, you've come to appreciate the special bonds that only hybrids can really understand. You don't care what type they are, just that there will be another with instincts and special restrictions so you aren't always the odd one out.
Then you actually see him. Ghost, a giant buck who easily towers over you even with all your muscle and height. He cuts an imposing figure, definitely an outlier for most bucks you've met, but there's just one thing...his antlers. They're still fuzzy and soft. Shouldn't they be gone by now?
You really don't mean to be insensitive, so you wait until it's been a few weeks and the velvet is still there. It looks uncomfortable, and probably is with how ghost is more agitated. So you corner him in the gym late at night.
He's been working out later than anyone else recently, so it's not hard to get him alone. You narrow your eyes at the fuzzy antlers, no way you're allowing your pack to suffer. Yes, maybe you have to wrestle him onto the mats and maybe you get a black eye for the struggle.
But it's all worth it when your claws scrape over that velvet and ghost freezes, then goes absolutely boneless with a pleased huff. "See?" You happily tear off pieces with your claws "This is what's been bothering you, hasn't it? Why didn't you take care of it?"
"... it's annoying." He finally huffs, shifting his antlers so you can reach every spot. "I used to scratch shit, ruin lockers during basic. Got told off for it."
You frown at that, growling lightly at the idea that no one's ever gotten him a proper post or anything. "It's okay. I'll help you with them, yeah? Then next time we'll get you proper equipment."
Afterwards, with ghosts antlers finally revealed, you insist on pulling him into your nest. You've basically been cuddling him on the mats with how you sat on his chest to get to the horns. Curled up under your blankets with your packmate, you can't wait to see him use his new horns on the field :)
₊⊹ 1.7k wc.
⭑.ᐟ your husband wants an open marriage, but little does he know that will result in you finding someone else.
ᝰ.ᐟtags: oc hubsand + angst + infidelity from oc + eventual smut
read part one > here!
Monday morning came a lot faster than you anticipated, as if the universe knew what you were doing. Last night you called Mia and told her about the whole ordeal that left you feeling a storm of emotions.
Part of you knew your marriage was over.
The relationship grew stale and while you tried to fix it, soak up some of what used to be between you and your husband was now dried up and brick hard like a dry sponge.
Anxiety pulses through your veins, making the spot below your neck throb visibly, the soft leather of the car seat barely feels real, nor does the sun shining through your windshield, which does little to warm the dread in your belly that quickly turns into an iceberg freezing you to your spot.
But you were not about to let your husband show you up, get a date, and fuck someone else when he hasn’t fucked you in months.
You check your reflection once more in the visor to make sure your hair and little bit of makeup are in place even though you kept the window up on the drive over, suffering from the heat because your husband refuses to fix the AC. You snap it shut with a soft sigh.
John Price is inside the building in front of you, where your husband happens to work and spends a lot of time, but where does he go after?
His words come back and hit you square in the face like a baseball, shattering everything you thought you knew about your marriage and who he is as a person.
“I want an open marriage.” Who asks for one already with a person in mind? Someone with an intent to cheat but who wants permission because it's easier to beg for forgiveness than to just ask your wife to have a side relationship?
Apparently not such a good one if he wants to fuck your co-worker, who literally squealed and gushed over the phone when you told her about him asking her out. You could hear her voice still, shrill and filled with that sort of excitement you used to get when your husband asked you on your first date.
“Here goes nothing.” Gathering up all the courage you have, you push the door open and walk up the sidewalk, each step slower than the last as your hands fidget and smooth down your skirt. You tugged on a simple skirt and shirt, nothing fancy, or said, “Hey! I want to fuck you to piss my husband off!”
It wasn’t just that you wanted to piss him off, it was mostly about you taking back the power and your sense of direction you lost over the last year in your marriage and well, maybe a little bit of it was you wanting to give him his own taste of medicine, hold his nose shut and make him swallow it.
You already called a lawyer this morning because, like hell, were you staying married to him.
John is probably in his office, maybe waiting for you already? You talked to him a few times at the holiday party they have, where he was nothing but a gentleman, paying close attention to what you spoke. He even leaned in when he didn’t hear you, and his musk was strong, earthy, and all fucking man.
Did your husband tell him already? What would he think about getting involved? Would he? Your mouth felt like you stuffed cotton in it and it didn’t matter how many times you try to swallow to wet it or your lips, your nerves felt like they were flayed and then seared on a grill.
A few seconds later you realize you're inside.
The small lobby is lit up with soft buttery lamps that didn’t make your eyes strain, with a few couches in the corner and a desk. A cool breeze from the AC helps the heat that flushes through you when the secretary greets you when you see him by his office or what you think is talking to someone else, nodding his head.
You look at her, her words not registering when John approaches, and all your blood rushes to your ears from the nerves tingling all over like tiny thumbtacks being rained down on you. “Your husband isn't here. He’s at lunch. You need anythin’?” He asks kindly with a smile that crinkles.
You snap out of your trance and smile back, trying not to fidget with your hands too much. “I know, I came to see you actually.” You say and give him a look that all but begs for him to take you to his office.
The secretary is now leaning in subtly, her eyes trained on the computer while listening. “Come to my office then.” John smiles and waits for you to step next to him before he walks with you down the tiled hallway, where he reaches a heavy door that has his nameplate: Captain John Price.
When your husband enrolled in the military at the tender age of nineteen, he insisted that you two get married so he could take care of you, so young and dumb and helplessly in love, you agreed. Now it’s biting you in the ass and speaking of ass, John has a nice one, plump and very round too.
Mentally you scold yourself and let your gaze travel up his broad body, settling on his eyes that most definitely caught you checking him out, but he didn’t say anything, just smiled and opened the door, his large palm stretching out to show you to the chairs he placed in front of his desk. “What’s goin’ on?”
You walk inside and feel your heartbeat triple and the butterflies in your belly flap harder like a whirlwind of buttery soft wings that could make you float, your muscles like jelly as you walk to the chair that John pulls out for you, a broken thank you parting your lips, and then you sink into the cushion, now fidgeting.
John took his seat behind his desk and leaned back, the chair creaking. His eyes stay trained on you, warm and gentle, waiting patiently for you to tell him why you’re here, a soldier’s wife? He’s always wondered what you saw in your husband, but seeing that John didn’t even have a girlfriend, he couldn’t speak on that. “Has my husband talked to you?” You ask and pull on your fingertips, watching him.
“About?”
That fucking bastard! Of course, he wouldn’t talk to him.
Your thoughts unravel like yarn being spilt from a bowl, the colorful strands, each one depicting your emotions, left a mess in your skull as you blink and gather up the rest of your courage. “He…asked me for an open marriage the other night, he wants to fuck my co-worker and I asked about you.” You reply basically in one breath and opt to stand up now, the chair making no noise as it slides back.
John wasn’t expecting to hear that. If anything, he thought it was some type of drama at home that was being brought to work, and while it was being brought to your husband's job, it wasn’t the type of drama John was thinking of. He ran a palm over his beard, watching as you paced in front of his desk anxiously.
He stands and walks over to you, his hand resting on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. Your wide eyes meet his, your legs already quivering because what the hell were you thinking? “I think a beautiful woman like yourself deserves to be wined and dined first, yeah? Here’s my number.”
His answer brings so much relief that floods your body your knees give out and John is right there, one strong arm hooks around your waist, holding you upright. “Okay.” Is all you manage as you rest your hands on his chest, your gazes locked for a moment as you count the dark blue flecks in his eyes when he pulls away to scribble his number on a piece of paper and hand it to you with a softer smile than before.
“A man who doesn’t know his wife’s worth isn’t a man worth keeping around.” John whispers in your ear when he leans in to kiss your cheek before he walks out with you to your car, where you two stand, your eyes unable to meet his as his words replay in your head like a broken record. Does he like you?
It’s been about five years since your husband started working on this base, sometimes he would be deployed to a different one, and hopefully soon he would be shipped out again, giving you the house to be alone without him talking about Mia and how well the date went while she blows your phone up.
“Thursday at six? I’ll pick you up. I’ll tell your husband too.” John says, his voice tightening when he says "husband," and all you can do is nod again and flash him a smile before returning the cheek kiss. He opens your door and closes it and watches as you drive away, mentally doing backflips the entire ride home.
Part of you couldn’t believe he actually said yes, that he was going to take you on a date while already married and you know this should make you feel guilty, but you can’t, not while your husband wants this. His car greets you first, gleaming under the sun. Confusion and irritation seep into you as you get out.
He greets you by the front door, face blank and lips drawn into a thin line. “Mia had to cancel our date on Thursday. Do you want to keep the reservations?” He asks, watching as you hang your keys up and laugh.
Full-on bladder-bursting laughter spills from your lips, the last few days of knowing your marriage was finally over have stained your sanity only temporarily, thankfully. You wipe at your eyes and pat his chest with a mock smile. “Thursday? I’m busy. John’s picking me up, by the way. Fuck you for asking him.”
His eyes widen only for a second, then they turn into slits. “Who asks their wife for an open marriage and then, when his date has to cancel, asks her to go on it with him to a dinner set for another woman? Anyway, I came home to look the dresser for a dress, but I think I’ll go out and buy a new one.”
You grab your keys and turn on your heel, leaving your husband speechless like he did on Friday night.
Touch starved reader x TF141 who hates being touched unless they’re the ones initiating it.
You had grown up in a household where physical touch just really wasn't done as a sign of affection, and you hated asking for help. So it was easier to push the narrative that you just liked your personal space and hated to be touched than it was to ask for a hug.
This eventually leads to you becoming so fucking touch starved that it hurt some days. And because you were never touched, often times it made you uncomfortable when you did receive physical contact. An unpleasant tingling feeling left in the wake of contact.
The pats on the back, the handshakes, the brush of the shoulders when squeezing by someone leaves you with a pit in your stomach and the space where you were touched tingly.
Your team knew that you were big on personal space.
Gaz and Soap leave you out of their rough housing, Prices praise came in the form of nods and quick smiles and words of affirmation.
The only time anyone touched you was when you all were sparring. And the closer you got to your team, the more you looked forward to training, to them touching you.
The second after a takedown when you have the pressure of another body against you. The hand offered to help you up. Hands on your shoulders, legs and waist as you moved through the moves of a take down.
You wanted nothing more than to tell them that you wouldn't mind if they were the ones touching you. That Price could give you those pats on the back in congratulations.
That Johnny and Kyle would throw their arms around your shoulders as they walked to training.
That maybe Simon would move just a little bit closer on the couch so that your knees could touch.
But if there was one thing that you hated more than paperwork, it was asking for help, admitting a weakness, admitting that you needed help.
But when you’re drunk, that’s a different story.
A few months in, the five of you find yourselves at a pub celebrating a successful op.
And with the burn of liquor running through your system, it’s harder to contain the want to run your hands through Soaps Mohawk, or wrap your arms around Kyle’s waist.
So you don’t.
No announcement, no warning, just slumping down into Kyle’s side, your head resting right where his shoulder meets his neck. You feel him tense and freeze, feeling the three other pairs of eyes finding where the two of you are now pressed together without even opening your eyes.
“Good there Sgt?” Price asks, mentally tallying the number of drinks you had. Not enough to get you drunk but enough to make you pleasantly tingly.
“Good now sir!” You mumble, pressing yourself closer to Kyle. His hands tentatively find your waist and squeezing.
“Thought you didna like bein touched?” Johnny grumbles from your other side, eyes glued to where Kyle still had his hands on your waist.
You shrugged. You might regret this in the morning, but right now you were basking in Kyle’s warmth, every place that was in contact with him tingling.
“Long as I initiate it or know it’s coming I don’t mind.” You're quiet after that, opening your eyes to find the rest of your team openly staring at you and Kyle, jealousy poorly hidden behind their eyes.
“Miss being held.”
It’s said so softly that you wonder if only Kyle hears it.
But you feel Soap tense behind you, so maybe not. Your eyes flit to Price to see his hands fisted on the table, then over to Simon’s shoulders rise and fall as he inhaled deeply.
It’s on the tip of your tongue to tell them that you think you would be ok with them touching you, that you would probably like it way more than you should. That you’ve thought about them touching you endlessly over the past few months as you’ve gotten closer to them.
But Johnny beats you to it.
“Can I touch you lass?”
You nod, and then your being hauled off of Kyle and onto Johnnys lap, his arms immediately finding your waist as he buries his nose into your neck. You can’t help but giggle, the alcohol clouding your mind and preventing you from thinking you were too much for asking, no, begging for this.
“Not fair Tav!” He whines, reaching back for you. “They chose me first!” But you catch his hands in yours, bringing one to your mouth as you press the other just over your heart, giggling again at the pout taking over his face.
Johnny only managed to keep you in his lap for about five minutes before Simon was demanding that you be passed over to him, promptly ignoring your halfhearted grumbling about how you weren’t an object. Surprisingly, Simon was the touchiest out of all three, skimming over your thighs before traveling up your sides and over your arms, lacing your hands together under the table before starting his pattern over again.
John had his hand planted on the inside of your thigh as soon as you were close enough to touch, and soon enough Kyle’s hand found your other thigh.
I hen John finally got you into his lap, you were drunk off contact, fighting to keep your eyes open as you basked in his warmth.
His chuckle was warm on your neck, fingers tracing small circles on your hips while Johnny played footsie with you from across the table.
“Ready for bed then love?” And then you locked up, already mourning the loss of their touch.
You felt the hum of John’s laugh, “Don’t worry sweetheart, we aren’t going anywhere.”
-
So this was just supposed to be a little blurb and then I got carried away and got this. God do I want a fucking hug right now. Or to be fucked, but mostly just the hug.
FANART FOR @softaestluv's DEER!READER SERIES!!! kinda a scene i just made up in my head to excuse drawing the big large 141 around 3 tiny little fawnis T.T Ive reread every post from there so many times its not even funny and idk if the fawn spots actually look like spots but i tried.......
also i stg i havent drawn this much fanart for an interest of mine in forever but bro these authors are giving me brainworms so badly /pos .......,,,,,,, NEVER STOP WRITING 😭😭😭
REPOSTING THIS BC I JUUST NOTICED A TERRIBLE MISTAKE 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 UGHHHH I HATE MY LIFE Omfg . Whatever. I dont even care. GO MY JOHNNY (also reblogs are greatly appreciated :D)
