#poly taskforce 141

Getting fucked by John Price in his office as the rest of the 141 team stand on the otherside of the door tugging at their dicks as your sweet moans leak out from under the gap in the door. 

The desk squeaking across the wooden floor boards with each thrust of John's hips. Papers littering the office floor as a result of John sweeping the desk clean before hoisting you up onto it and spreading your legs. 

John knew the guys were on the opposite side of the door as they didn’t keep their infatuation with you very secret. He knew they all seeked you out when you came down to the base, wherever you were, the guys were close behind. All of the ogling at you, practically drooling at the sight of you. So, it’s why John made a point of fucking you on his desk, where he knew everyone would be able to here. 

Your moans bounced off the office walls as John plowed deep into you, his dick hitting depths deep inside of you. The guys were going mad on the other side of the door, with Johnny most likely being told off for trying to open the door, his excuse being that he just wanted a peak.

Whilst you continue being fucked silly on John’s desk having no idea that theres a group of guys outside the door desperate to join in, desperate to have their hands all over you body grabbing and pinching, whilst their mouths suck and lick all over you. The boys weren’t sure how you’d react to them joining in, which is why they’ve held themselves back from bargaining in and filling your mouth with someone's cock.

 It wouldn’t have been the first time they’ve all had sex with a woman at the same time, but it’s not something John had gotten round to talking to you about, and until then they had a strict rule of no joining in.

But they were desperate, they had been chasing you around base for months now in hopes that something would naturally happen between you and the guys but you were loyal to John and only John. And until their intentions were brought forward by John, they believed it would stay that way. Yet they couldn’t help themselves from cracking the door open the tiniest bit, just so they could get a glance at what they all so desperately craved. 

From the small gap they were able to see you spread out on their bosses desk, legs spread, tits free, nipples hard and perky, bouncing with every thrust of their captains hips, and your face had the most fucked out expression plastered on it. Just the sight of you had the guys close to finishing in their pants.

John gives the guys a quick smirk with a cheeky wink before planting his grip on your hips and driving into you, desperate to have you finish so he can fill you to the brim with his cum. His grip is bruise inducing as he bends to suck at your nipples, his tongue tracing the pebbled skin, nipping at it gently with his teeth before moving on to the other one to give it the same attention. John was a generous man, what can I say?

Your legs shake around him as his dick hits deep inside of you over and over again, sending you spiralling closer to your orgasm. Locking your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck you let your head hang back as you wait for your approaching orgasm to hit you. It’s only then that you realise the door had been opened and not only that but there were three sets of eyes staring directly at you. 

The realisation that people were watching had you clamping down around John’s cock, your orgasm suddenly seeming much more powerful than before.  And as John finished deep inside you, you couldn’t help but stare at the men on the other side of the door. The sight of them watching you as their captain fucked you had unlocked something deep inside of you, something you never knew about.

After escaping Makarov, you attempt to make a life for yourself as an assassin, putting your training to good use. But no one can escape Kate Laswell.

TF141x Reader I use names because I hate Y/N and I can't write without a name, it won't be used much though.

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You knew you weren't a good person, you'd killed too many innocents during your lifetime, spent most of your life on the wrong side of the gun, pulling the trigger at the wrong people, throwing their bodies to the side as if it didn't bother you. But it did.

You tried to even it out when you were no longer under the control of someone else, killing those who deserved it, refusing to take the large sum of money a domestic abuse victim offers, the weight of the innocents deaths already enough on your shoulders. But the guilt never left you, it lingered like your shadow, relentless even in the brightest light.

Regardless, you were proud of where you stood now, in control of who you hunted, punishing those with crimes worse than yours, freeing victims from the chains that held them down the same way yours used to. It was poetic in a way, how you'd grown from villain to hero, not that you would call yourself that, the ghosts of your victims never letting you forget, but no longer shying away from your gun, knowing now that the gun you held was yours and not your masters.

Those unaware of the crimes your victims committed called you the Reaper, recognising your pattern of a tarot card left at the scene of crimes, not that there were many. You usually hid the victims, but some deserved to rot in the open, letting mother nature take over them, punishing them further, even in death, allowing the threat of you to scare their accomplices into submission, though they'd usually end up dead too.

You'd built a decent life for yourself since escaping Makarov, returning to England, living in a slightly run down flat, despite the money in your bank, never feeling worthy enough of a comfortable home, and wary enough to know being too comfortable would get you caught.

Working part time as a bartender made the town you lived in warm up to you, residents no longer asking prying questions about where you'd appeared from, the scars that littered your body, where your money came from.

Despite the friendliness, they didn't hesitate to point in your direction when a CIA agent came looking, your last contractor didn't even give you a heads up before she scattered, leaving you unaware of how you were being watched.

The eyes on you weren't subtle, but you assumed it was just another drunk until you turned to face her, stopping in your tracks at the sight of a new face, definitely not drunk. "Althea Montgomery?" The customer service smile drops of your face, no one in this town knew your last name, you made sure of that.

"Sorry, I don't know her, what can I get for you?" You try to regain confidence in yourself, eyes drifting to the badge she pulls from her pocket, "you can't lie to me, Reaper."

Turning on your heel, you beeline for the back exit, the agent quick behind you as you sprint through the kitchen, only just managing to grab your bag from the hook it hangs on as you shove the door open, wrangling your gun from the bag as she stands before you.

"Who are you?" Your voice wavers, grip on your gun tightening like your desperation to get out of this situation. The birds chirp as they fly past, blissfully living their lives in a way you envy, especially in this moment.

"Kate Laswell, CIA. I'm not here to arrest you." She holds her hands up to show she means no harm, yet the gun you hold stays in place, too many possibilities running through your mind, fear clouding your judgement.

"What do you want with me?"

Kate takes a breath before answering, "I have an offer for you."

----

You hold Kate's phone in your hand as you stand uncomfortable in your own flat, Kate sitting comfortably as she observes the place. This conversation couldn't happen in public, and you weren't afraid to leave everything behind to get away from the CIA agent.

"I want you to join a team."

The scoff leaves your lips before you properly process her words, "a team?"

"Yes, a taskforce."

Your eyes widen as you chuckle, "you want me to join the military?"

"Not just any military, this taskforce are-"

You cut her off before she can finish delivering her practiced speech, "now, why would I do that?"

"Vladmir Makarov."

The name makes your skin crawl, the flat growing cold as if a thousand ghosts are consuming the place, your throat runs dry, the echo of a hand resting there restricting your breathing as you stare at Kate whilst she gouges your reaction.

Staying silent seems to be your only option as no words crawl to escape your mouth, not that you think you could even talk with how your body locks up, every muscle freezing in place as his name settles in the air.

"It's only a matter of time before he does something drastic enough for me to send this Taskforce to solve. I want you to help."

"Help?" The word comes out as a whisper, "Vladmir is a hard man to catch, Kate Laswell."

She frowns at your use of his first name instead of his last, thinking for a moment before speaking, "you were kidnapped on your way home from school when you were 16, parents killed after you were reported missing, the rest of your family were slowly killed off whilst your whereabouts remained a mystery."

"I don't know what he did to you, but I'd like to imagine that you'd like to avenge your family deaths."

"How do.. how do you know he killed my family?" You ask wearily, grip on her phone tightening as if it would give you all the answers you wanted.

"Makarov has very cruel methods, I'm sure you're aware of that. The taskforce 141 have wanted an excuse to find him for years, and I think he's about to give us one."

For the first time in years, you begin to feel almost hopeful, to finally be able to hunt down and kill the man responsible for the way your life turned out, but the threat of being in a team lingers. The fear of being under the control of another person, another man, sets alight a fear inside of you that you'd thought you'd squashed.

"The taskforce 141 are good men, Althea." She talks as if she can read your mind, "I can offer you a lenient contract, with a good exit clause. At any point if you feel threatened by any of my soldiers, you can leave."

The offer hangs above your head like a sword, you think for a moment before trusting your voice, "they aren't to know who I am, my true name, my past or my present. They cannot know, Laswell."

Kate nods with a small smile, as if she'd predicted you would ask for this, "deal."

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Getting back in my writing era ig

You, Soap and Gaz (and Ghost) have a bet on how Price's hat always stays on.

I wanted to ask if u could do a cod story with a dislexic reader? It's so common, but no one does anything with it! And it has so much potential!! Like imagine reader who keep forgetting their names and just stears at them like 😀 because they forgot their names, and it's been 4 months of knowing them. Or reader who can't do their reports because they can't spell 😭 ( or can't read their love letters because they can't read cursive🥲) I just think it would be both amusing and frustrating for the 141 😂(or eny one in the cod universe) it can be fluff or smut 😏

Thank u so much, and remember to treat yourself for working hard 💓

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader, John Price x reader, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x reader, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x reader, implied poly 141 x reader, but it can be read as character x reader. Word Count: 541 A/N: Hi love! Please don't be uncomfortable asking things! I'm so sorry for the long wait, I got so busy with school, my internship and all the ideas I wanted to write that my requests completely slipped my mind! It's a bit short, but I wanted to get this one done. I'm also very busy writing for kinktober! I made them as headcanons, I hope you don't mind.

Please note that I don't have any experience with dyslexia. I didn't even know that there's more to it than having trouble with reading/writing, but I hope I've done it justice!

I feel like they would help you with it as much as they can.

Price would print everything (like paperwork, briefings ect) for you in the dyslexia text font so it’s easier for you to read.

None of them would rush you to read things, they’d just keep you company while you read.

If you have to turn in paperwork, Ghost would wordlessly grab the papers from you to check them for any grammar mistakes you might have made.