War, Royalty, And The Conqueror PT1

PLEASEJADGW I AM NEW, SPEAK ABT THE THE SOFT COCK FOR ME AGAIN

Thinking about hooking up with a divorced father whose only company for the past years has been the bear bottles in his fridge.

He’s greedy as ever as he sloppily licks into your mouth, lips tasting of whatever he had at the bar, practically moaning like a little slut while grinding down on your cock. His poor worn out coach is barley able to hold your weight but he couldn’t care less about that as he continues to hump you like some horny teenager.

Everything’s going well or at least you think so and soon you find yourself nestled between his thighs, hands swiftly pulling down his pants along with his boxers, hungrily watching as his cock spills out.

There isn’t much to the size but there’s some girth to his dick, shaft flushed an angry red and tip already weeping from just a little teasing.

Suddenly you find yourself eager as ever to get your mouth around him. However you don’t get much further than that before you feel him go soft in your mouth, with the older man looking absolutely horrified, apologizes rolling off of his tongue as he tries to get out of your grasp “fuck fuck- I’m so sorry I don’t know what happened,”

You don’t respond nor do you loosen your grip leaving the man looking both frazzled and confused where he lays pinned beneath your body. “What are you doing son? Let me go!”

Before he can say or do anything else you sink back down on him again, leaving the man loudly gasping as he bucks up into you “ahah! Fuck!”

As you work your mouth on him, you can’t help but notice how much smaller he feels. Cock fully soft yet so girthy. The weight of it on your tongue leaves you feeling numb but instead of having it be a frigid cold that encomposes your bones it’s a certain warmth that starts from the top of your head and works its way down to your toes.

The man beneath you seems frozen in place, looks at you with wide eyed and mouth agape as if he can’t believe this is happening. “ Jesus Christ You like this huh?” You hear him say but there’s no bite to his words, sounding more in disbelief if anything as his hand tentively cradles your skull.

Instead of responding you take him all the way down, obscene squelching sounds mingling with his whines and whimpers, only fully stopping when you’re buried in the fringe of curls and you got his balls pressed snug against you.

“Okay okay fuck you really like this yeah? Show me ah - show me how greedy you are for this soft cock then,”

Without wasting another second you do as he says,this time going at a much slower pace since your goal isn’t to get him off anymore but rather to feel all of him, and that’s exactly what you do as you bob your head down, mind focused on how hot and velvety he feels under your tongue.

“Fuck just like that, suck this old man’s cock,” he says through gritted teeth, the hand in your hair turning rougher as he yanks on it. “You know my wife never liked it when I got soft, fuck- she ah- she even left because of that but you? God you suck it like you were made for it,”

His words paired with the bitter taste lingering on your tongue makes you hungry for more and before you know of it you find yourself sucking harder, head bobbing erratically and losing yourself in the feeling of him jerking against the roof of your mouth, the way you can easily take more and more and more of his soft cock without chocking up, and the feeling of his spit slicked balls sliding against you with every thrust.

“God yes ah yes yes,” he gasps out but it’s not long before he pulls you away from his cock and you’re almost ashamed of the pitiful sound that escapes your mouth.

“Shh shh easy there, “ he coaxes out as he strokes your head “we’re going to have plenty of fun I promise, go and get that bottle of lube for me yeah?”

Betrayal of the Queen

Part 1

Endings:

Forgive

No forgiveness(Kofi/Patreon Only)

Yandere Sons take out the old hive(Kofi/Patreon Only)

A/N: Hii, this was available to kofi/patreon early, and some of the endings will be exclusively there! Also, the relationship between you and your bee hybrid sons is completely platonic! It’s pretty obvious in this fic but I get weird questions and just want to clarify. Thanks!

They regret not appreciating your kindness and soft nature when they appoint their new queen.

She was taller, more lithe and graceful. They threw you out the second they saw her on the street. Your sons of course followed, shocked and devastated that their own fathers and fellow hive would do this to you!

You had served as the queen for nearly five years now, creating the new generation and caring for them with all your heart.

But you were a bit fragile, not able to bear as many young as the previous queen. The hive had loved you at first, adoring you endlessly, but when they noticed how little eggs made it to the birthing stage, they realized that you may not ever rebuild their hive in the way that they hoped.

They slowly began to stop caring for you as much, leaving your care to your sons. Some of the hive even went out and flirted with other females, leaving you to incubate those eggs with only your children by your side.

Most grew resentful, seeing you as nothing more than a burden to the hive.

By the fifth year, the only bees in the hive that had remained loyal to you were the very ones you birthed.

Your children disliked how you were treated, but stayed because taking you away may cause issues. Your safety was their top priority, but they were also deeply in tune with your emotions.

The hive stopped even pretending to care near the end, shunning you for not being a good enough queen. They buzzed around haughtily, being so bold as to bring other females into the hive right in front of you!

Your heart ached. At first you had truly loved that hive, sacrificing most of your human life and your body to bare eggs in a womb that could barely maintain them.

You had done so much, yet they didn't seem to care.

In their hearts they knew they were being cruel. But they were selfish and greedy, wanting the hive to flourish... but that couldn't happen with you around.

"She'll be banished."

Your sons stared at the council member in shock as they announced the decision. "Are you joking? She's the queen, you can't-"

"It states that if a queen is no longer fit to rule, then she will be banished and a new queen will be chosen. When a queen can't lay the right amount of eggs, she cannot function correctly."

One of your sons, the prince stepped forward, his wings buzzing threateningly. "You've treated her like garbage for years, and now you're going to abandon her? Is that really how we treat a queen?"

"Hardly a queen, if you ask me."

A female said, crossing her legs. The prince turned on his heels, hissing. "You shouldn't even be in this hive, the queen is the only female allowed-"

"She's not the queen anymore. Get her out and leave."

The bee hybrids watched in awe as every single son of hers stood. "If she leaves, we leave with her. You've all become so greedy, taking advantage of our mother and pushing her to her limits and expecting her to just roll over and take it. You're a disgrace to the bee hybrid name."

You were in tears when your crown was taken, crying into one of your son's chests. Your sons took up about 1/3 of the hive, and left with you.

The new queen had been already lined up to take your place. She was thin, tall, and beautiful, all that they could have asked for.

But she was also manipulative and cruel.

"The drones? Do we really need to help them? They're replaceable, aren't they?"

She crossed her legs, staring on in boredom as a worker bee reported to her. "But my queen, the drones are stuck in a storm, shouldn't we at least try to help them?"

"Of course not, I don't really care if they live or die.

I'm the queen, the most important. Shouldn't you just be happy I'm here and producing eggs?"

It quickly became obvious that the new queen cared not about her subjects, only about expanding her power and rule. The people starved, the babies hated their mother. She refused to even look at them once they were born, moving on to start another clutch.

The new queen picked only the most handsome and fit bee hybrids to mate with, creating only a small gene pool. This meant that the ones she mated with were constantly tired, and the others were increasingly sexually frustrated.

A few bee hybrids sat in a common room, depressed.

"Remember when the old queen would come down here and listen to our woes? She would mate with all of the hive, not just a select few..."

"The old queen made sure that the elders were taken care of. Not a single senior was left behind."

"She was so warm and soft, the new queen has no warmth in her body or soul."

They missed you.

But could they ever say they deserved you back?

Thinking of the years of neglect and mistreatment, of how they had taken your love and kindness for granted…

It all came to an end when the queen came before the council. She was as cold as ever, her eyes empty as she spoke.

"Thank you all for making me your queen and being so... stupid."

Her vacant eyes glanced over the room, and suddenly the smell of decay became almost overwhelming as her body began to wriggle and shift.

"That previous queen of yours had been keeping us at bay for nearly five years, and you let us in easily."

The new queen was ripped apart, parasite wasp larvae falling onto the ground and wriggling towards the nearest bee hybrid, attaching themselves and burrowing into their abdomen.

The room erupted into a frenzy of bees being eaten alive while others tried to escape. Even after leaving the room, several council members were seized by infected bees, taking them down with the rest of the hive.

Only around 100 members of the original hive survived, and while they flew away from the remnants of their home, all they could think about was you.

In all your years of being queen, you had been fighting to keep them safe. You tried so hard, barely able to lay eggs due to the intense stress of taking on the imminent threat of the parasite wasp hybrids alone.

You hid all of the pain, all of the work you did just to give them some peace of mind… and they repaid you by abandoning you when you needed them most.

You hadn’t failed them as a queen, no. They failed you as a hive. The hive wouldn’t exist without you, and had quickly fallen to ruin with your absence.

All they could hope for was that you would forgive them.

~

You smiled to yourself, one of you infant sons sleeping on your lap as your new hive buzzed around you. Without all the stress that had been piled on you, incubating eggs was easy.

“Mother, I’ve prepared your dinner.”

One of your sons nuzzled his antennae against your forehead in a sign of innocent affection before setting your plate on your nightstand. Even when they got older, they were still your babies.

Your sons had quickly formed a hive with you after you were banished, and now you lived a happy life with them and the new bee hybrids that joined.

Any bees that had been ostracized were welcome to join, and your sons personally interviewed each new possible mate of the queen to make sure they wouldn’t betray you.

After all, they loved their mom, and wanted you to be happy over anything else. They didn’t care if you laid eggs or not, they could spend the rest of their days snuggling with and taking care of you and be perfectly content.

But you wanted to have more children, to make a new hive where you’d be loved and happy.

Of course, any wish you had would be fulfilled. They set off and gathered any bee hybrids they could, wanting their mama to find her confidence in being a queen again.

It felt nice to be able to mate again, to be loved intimately. The new bee hybrids were loving and gentle, appreciating every soft curve of your body answ kissing away any tears you shed from your lingering insecurities.

Your sons worked on building a hive and producing honey while the new bee hybrids helped you with creating new children to add on to the hive. You felt like one, big, happy family.

It all came to a halt when the bees guarding the entrance to your hive brought forth an intruder.

You instantly recognized him as a council member from your old hive.

Memories of all the awful things they said and the circumstances of your banishment came to your mind, making your breathing quicken.

“My queen-“

“Don’t you dare call her that, you scum!”

The prince said, standing in front of you protectively “She isn’t your queen anymore, you made that decision yourself.”

The council member hung his head in shame. “… I know. Trust me, we all regret that deeply.”

You gently pulled the prince to you, giving his antennae a gentle caress to calm him down. Even if he was a prince, he was still one of your sons, and they were all angry on your behalf.

When you stayed silent, the former council member continued. “The hive… it’s gone. The new queen was a pawn for the parasitic wasps.”

This caused your hive to buzz anxiously. Many of the new members were from broken or destroyed hives by those hybrids.

Some were just little ones, torn away from their mothers, watching as the queens that birthed them were killed. Their tiny bodies trembled as they clung to your side, of course you had adopted them.

“Why do you darken my doorway, saying such things in front of the children?” you said, gathering the terrified babies into your arms. “You have no business here, I’ve been banished.”

“My queen-“

The prince was across the room in a split second, holding a knife to the former council member’s throat. “Don’t make me tell you again, scum. That is my mother, not your queen.”

You lifted a hand, and the prince backed away slightly, but stayed within arms reach. “… what about the new queen’s children?”

“… most of them were infected with the queen’s parasites. Those that we could save were in a dire state, while the rest perished.”

You let out a distressed whine, clutching one of the orphans' hands to comfort them. It wasn’t easy being a mother and hearing about the death of children.

“And what do you want from me?”

He took a moment to think before speaking. “Shelter for the children… they’re scared and hungry, most of them have severe injuries and illnesses as well.”

“… alright. Basil, please contact the worker bees and have them set up a temporary quarantine room, with enough room to accommodate 30 children.”

You sat back down on your throne, peering down at the former council member. He had been someone you had loved, even mated with years ago. A few of your sons were a result of that… yet in this moment you resented him and all the previous hive had done.

“I will only be taking in the children.”

Before he could protest, he stopped himself and stood. “I understand… please, do not hate them because of what we did. They are innocent in this.”

As you watched over the construction of the quarantine room, you occasionally glanced outside.

Your former hive members, at least, what was left of them was gathered around. They gave up their children, only wanting their survival.

When they spotted you looking, they stared up at you with remorse and longing.

They’d be staying nearby while waiting for the children to recover, and the threat of the parasitic wasps still lingered.

Would you ever be able to forgive them, especially if it meant joining forces and gaining knowledge to protect yourselves in a world that was changing rapidly?

Or would you turn your back on them, just like they had done to you? It was only fair, and how could you trust them when they already betrayed you once?

The choice was yours.

Which ending do y’all want to see first?

—————

SFW TAGLIST: @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @peachesdabunny @misswonderfrojustice @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @zyettemoon1800 @kassandra-hawthorne @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @omglovelylaila @midromiell @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @hammerhead96 @bubblez-blop @snugglyshoji @wanderlustingcastaway @amberexe2 @an-ever-angry-bi @rainejiang @lostsomewhereinthegarden @idkccdfnfz @xrenka @arcticat @v3lv3tf0x @ghostiegirl56 @aerangi @kxnnxy @joviaschaoticmind @danielle143 @roxy776699 @katsukis1wife @chaoticevilbakugo @rainejiang @lostsomewhereinthegarden @idkccdfnfz @articat @ghostiegirl56 @aerangi @kxnnxy @roxy776699

Soap Has a Musk Kink

CW: NSFW, what it says on the tin, musk kink, blowjobs, dom/sub undertones, Male Top Reader, Sub Bottom Soap, I wrote this instead of sleeping, this is dirty I need a shower,

As always y'all are free to ask me or send suggestions for what I should write next.

Soap has an unmentioned fixation with your scent, especially after any mission when you return smelling like sweat and blood and dirt and whatever else you managed to roll in. He's always the first to greet you when you return, hugging you despite your complaints about getting him dirty. You always see this as a sweet gesture instead of what it really is — his perverted need to smell you when you smell like war and testosterone and aggression and fucking alive.

Good Lord help him if it's his turn to spar with you; He needed to buy looser shorts because the combination of feeling your strong hands on him, your sweaty skin rubbing against his, and smelling your heavy musk whenever you pin him with your thighs in a headlock has him rock hard and tenting his pants in seconds. You never notice this, nor his little shuffle of shame to the showers, but the others do, and even he can't help averting his eyes when Ghost gives him a knowing look or Gaz snickers behind his fist as he glances between him and you.

Sometimes when you have a long mission coming up and Soap won't see you for a few weeks, he'll sneak in and steal a pair of your underwear. You'll notice their absence but chuck it up to loosing them in the wash, unaware that they're hidden under Soap's pillow. On lonelier nights when you can't talk over the phone he'll huddle up under the covers and burry his nose in your underwear, chasing your lingering scent as he fucks his cock into his fist while imagining what you'd say if you ever found out. Or he'll take your underwear into his mouth, lick and suck until the material is drenched in saliva and his tastebuds taste like you while he fucks himself on a dildo.

And when you finally come home to him, smelling of the same war and blood and testosterone, he turns completely pathetic.

He can spend hours with his head between your thighs with your cock balls deep in his throat, his gag reflex all but gone as he burrows his nose into your pubes and huffs your heavy masculine scent like it's the best drug in the world. He won't even notice when he starts gagging, mind so blissed out about your scent he'll gladly choke on you and when you finally pull him off so he can catch a breath — he'll whine and ask to let him do that again.

His favorite blowjob moments are when you tell him to clean you off after you shot a load down his throat. He'll happily clean every inch of your sweaty skin, from the tip of your dick down to your ass and perineum, looking up at you with lust drunk eyes and your balls on his face.

Or he'll beg you to sit on him and he'll be unsatisfied if you're not crushing him under your weight. Then he's polishing your balls with his tongue like a man possessed, nuzzling his face into them until every labored and small breath he takes smells like you, until all he can think in his oxygen deprived mind is you.

And please for the love of God mock or praise him. Call him a 'good boy' or a 'disgusting pig' and he's hard as a rock after just a few words. Hell, you don't even have to touch his pathetic cock, put it in a chastity cage and he's still leaking like a faucet.

Or better yet — praise and humiliate him. Call him 'your dirty little puppy' while he's choking on your cock and he'll warm it until you decide to tug him off, call him 'a good slut' as he humps his cage against your boot while nosing your balls and he'll cum on the spot if you don't pull your boot away in time, call him 'such a good pathetic boy' as you play and tug the chastity cage while he's sucking on your balls and he'll whine so loudly you'll feel it through your entire body. He won't beg you to be kind or cruel, so blissed out from the smell and taste of pure you that he couldn't plead for anything even if his mouth wasn't ocupied.

By the time you flip him on his back to fuck him good and proper it's as if he's already cum several times with the amount of pre he's leaked all over the bed, barely able to do much besides spread his legs wide and moan like a proper whore just for you. He tries his best to cling to you as you piston your hips, loud and unabashed moans spilling from his lips with every 'slap, slap, slap' of your balls against his ass.

And when you grow tired or near deaf from his voice, gag him with the same pair of underwear he'd stolen from you a month before. Put the pair you'd been wearing on your mission on his face to further silence him and the moment he registers your concentrated musk in his nose as you fuck him to the edge of his life he's coming so hard he blacks out, screaming your name at the top of his lungs that the entire base can hear.

It's not his fault he's such a perve, you just smell too good.

Cod ForceMasc Idea 3.:

tw:mild smut mention, kinda sexist? Maybe? If u close ur eyes, discharge mention, dub-con surgery, orgasm denial (kinda) anal

Simon who doesn't mean to ForceMasc you, he just can't quite help it.

He tells you you can just wear his clothes around the house and the store, no one around to impress when it's just you and him plus it's romantic. Less laundry too.

You can use his cologne too, he doesn't mind matter of fact he finds your floral perfume tacky why don't you let him take you out so he can splurge on something nice for you that doesn't smell cheap and sweet?

You don't actually have to shave your legs for this date night, you two are just gonna chill on the couch! You don't have to watch what you eat, you can just come to his gym with him he'll get to keep you safe and be your coach for free it's a win win really! You need to out some muscle on those bones.

Eventually you start letting him shave your head when he shaves his, long hair is such work isn't is luv? He throws out all your makeup because they were all expired, you can use his eyeblack if it's that important that you glam up like a drag queen.

It's just a night out with the lads you don't need to wear that dress or the skirt you can wear his basketball shorts if it's hot, you didn't shave your legs? Oh his friends won't care don't worry, no one's lookin at your chicken legs laddie.

He likes anal more, you don't mind right? Of course not, you're always so understanding, letting him get away with everything oh there's also less clean up when you don't cum <3

At some point all your frilly pastel clothes get too old and moth eaten to wear and he helps you pick through what to donate, gruffly poking fun at your lacey red thongs. He just picks up clothes for you no need for you to bore yourself.

Next thing you know he's booking you masectomy because he wants to save on sports bras -have ya seen the prices ya wee wanker? No need for em no more- and a phalloplasty because he wants to go hiking this summer -we can't possibly stop and find a spot every time ya need to take a leak, ya will thank me for it- and also because he's sick of the discharge stains on his boxers :(

At some point he starts introducing you as his boyfriend because it's just easier, you understand right?

cw: f slur (i blame @rodolfoparras)

thinking about a homophobic misogynist man who just can’t get off like how he used to before he met you. no matter how times he fists his cock, is balls deep into some random women; none of it mattered. it was never enough, he was never satisfied. but when he thinks about his last “session” with you… he’s throbbing and rock hard within seconds (aww is that pre cum on the tip?) he tries to brush it off as nothing more than a little meeting between guys, he’s not a fag and he’ll never will be. his actions speak other wise but he’s way too narcissistic and delusional to see his contradiction.

he’s in too deep in his fantasy to hear himself whining and moaning like a bitch as he fucks into the tight hole of his hand. his eyes brimmed with tears as he recalled you holding his legs against his chest as your fat cock drilled into his sore hole, your pelvis slapping lewdly against his ass. he called you every insult in the book, but you didn’t care. in fact, his bitching made you pound into him harder.

he spat on his pointer and middle finger and slid a shaky hand down to his hole. it twitched and clenched around nothing, he felt so empty. he forces his two fingers inside him to the knuckle, if there was a heaven, he just saw it. as the fantasy continued, he only got more desperate. he bucked into his fist like a mutt in heat as his fingers thrust in and out of his tight heat. his pillows are drowning in drool at this point.

you call him your pretty princess, whose pussy was made to take your dick. your digits wrapped themselves around his throat, his adam’s apple bopping under your palm. taking in as much air as he could before you took it with the thunderous pace of your hips.

he never wished for a third arm more in his life. before long, he let out a pathetic, little, tiny sigh of “daddy” as he came all over his hand and belly. he lays on his soaked sheets absolutely exhausted. his first good nut in ages. he thinks about you again, and remembers he has a huge cucumber in his fridge he was about to blend into his work out smoothie.

his cock is leaking pre instantly.

The end of a hard day

This is the first time I've written something like this, so please no harsh criticism :р(English is not my native language, so if there are mistakes, forgive me)

It was night outside, the stars were scattering across the sky like a million shards of a broken mirror. The moonbeams were illuminating the houses, the lights of which had already gone out, as fatigue after a hard day's work had taken its toll.The trees were swaying in the wind, like other plants. Only some residents who had worked until night were cutting through the empty roads, wanting to get home as quickly as possible. The same thought was in the head of the houltricker, another hard day that had left an unpleasant aftertaste in his chest, which he wanted to tear into small pieces. The medic's eyes were fixed on the road, and his hands were tightly gripping the steering wheel of the car, with some kind of nasty sound, similar to a grinding sound. His hair lay unruly on his shoulders, strands were coming out from under the elastic band, adding a special twist to his image.Fatigue was visible in his gray eyes. And then he was overcome by a feeling that the ground was gradually slipping away from under his feet, and there was a categorical lack of air. His mind was seized by panic, another bad experience with a patient who, after his psychological consultation, committed suicide, although everything was basically going well. He felt guilty, could not calm down and pounded the steering wheel with his hands, shouting something in the car. Passers-by probably thought he was a psychopath. Tears began to drip from his pale cheeks, which fell on his coat and black pants, he slightly pressed his lips, and then finally drove towards the house, bringing himself to his senses along the way, doing some breathing exercises. The dark red car finally parked near the house, in the yard, slightly disturbing the night euphoria. The brunette redid his bun, looking in the rearview mirror, and then glanced towards the window, checking if his love was sleeping, what if she was waiting? Seeing the light, a silly smile appeared on his lips, and his chest began to flutter pleasantly, as if a million butterflies had flown out to freedom. Pulling himself together, his feet finally came off the asphalt, he slowly moved towards the entrance, opening the door with a key. While his beloved worked, Semple was busy with household chores, and also went to college to hand in his diploma work. Because his chosen one has been working for a long time, and he has not graduated from any institution yet. Well, no matter, now he is almost officially a medical assistant. There was a sweet smile on the redhead's lips while he cleaned up and cooked dinner for himself and Houltricker. He danced a little to the music from the radio, slowly cooking. He knew that his medical worker would be late, because this was already the norm in their small family. At a certain hour, he looked out the window, noticing the car that had already become familiar, a smile immediately played on his lips, as bright as the sunlight, in the summer.And so, the key turned in the doorway and his boyfriend entered, Semple immediately ran out into the hallway, hugging Howl tightly.- Good evening, honey. Can you imagine, my diploma was finally approved, finally after weeks of humiliation and suffering! - the guy immediately changed the topic, starting to talk about his pastime, brushing strands of hair from his face.- Good, I missed you. - He kissed the guy on the temple, and then hugged him back tightly, burying his nose in the top of the guy's head.They chatted and soon went to the kitchen, spending the rest of the evening with dinner and watching a movie, probably a horror movie.

Leave a mark

MINORS DNI

Monster!John "Soap" Mactavish (with Poly Monster!141 at the end) x Male Reader

Cw: it starts off with Soap but the rest r mentioned and written but not as much as soap, marking with markers, nothing else I believe lmk

Silly thought but like imagine a monster reader who has crazy fast regeneration. Like deep cuts heal in seconds. Maybe you're a ghoul who just has crazy regen, or something like that.

Anyways,

Wouldn't a relationship between Soap, who loves leaving bites and see the aftermath due to his instincts as a werewolf and you who literally heals in seconds be interesting?

He loves getting fucked by you, but everytime he leaves a bit unsatisfied. It's not because you can't make him cum or anything, hell you can pull multiple orgasms from the guy and you have.

It's just that he can't leave satisfied knowing that he left a mark on you. He has bit you so much but the marks just won't stay. With the other members he can clearly see the marks he left on their neck and shoulders, even with Price who due to his dragon blood heals faster but the marks still stay for a day or two.

So everytime you two fuck, even if his ass if filled to the brim and his balls are empty he still whines because he can't leave his mark on you. You're a member of the 141, his pack, so it pains him that he can't put a claim on you like he has with the others.

So one day you get a bit creative.

One night in your room where he's riding on your cock, bouncing up and down while you lay your back on the bed, your hands gripping his hips and slamming him down on you as you cum. He leans down and bites as hard as he can on you as the feeling of you filling him up makes him cum. Pulling away and only being able to whine because he can't even admire his mark before it fades away.

"Aw, is puppy unsatisfied?" You tease and chuckle. And before he could insist that he was, you reached to the bedside table and picked up a red permanent marker, "why don't you mark me with this instead?" You say handing him the marker.

He huffs out a laugh at your little solution, but it's the best you got since you can't really make yourself regenerate slower. So he indulges, testing the marker on the back of your hand, the ink incredibly opaque so it stands out against your skin. Then he draws a bite mark at your neck then adds "Soap's Claim" in big letters, covering the whole left side of your neck.

He leans back, the bright red against your skin and the obvious letters, he finally sighs a sigh of relief.

It doesn't go unnoticed as well (just how he likes it)

The other members of the task force noticing Soap's eyes seem a bit brighter and his tail has been swaying peacefully the whole day. And that's where you enter, neck bare for everyone to see (it's the least you can do) Soap grins, happy to finally be able to show off his claim on you.

And now they want to have their names on your body too.

It's all color coordinated too now, Price who loves to write across your shoulder blades, with words like "Price's hoard" or just a simple "Price" with a heart next to it, it's simple but huge.

Gaz with a bright blue marker who likes to do it on your lower back (because he can also rest his head on your ass) writing something like "Gaz was here" and likes to draw wings on you. (Wing themed tramp stamp with 141 between the wings anyone?)

And Ghost with either white or black who loves to mark your chest, either a simple "ghost" or "Simon Riley" on each pec. Also likes to draw a ghost doodle on top of your heart.

And if you five fuck together, you aren't the only one who ends up having ink on you, but you'd have the most. And when you wake up to find a big arrow pointing to your dick and ass that says "Property of 141" written in multiple colors, you'd wish you could show it off.

𝕋ℍ𝔼 ℙℍ𝕆𝔼ℕ𝕀𝕏

Future poly 141 (if I wanna continue this or y'all want to know more abt this)

Here are some warnings: major injury, depiction of blood and....uh...heartbreak cuz of love (?)

The human kind always escribed phoenixes as mythological birds capables of incredible doings, capable of being almost immortals and representing good omens. Their golden orangesque wings and their red markings made them the symbol of the sun, therefore, life.

It is said that a phoenix once fought in the trojan war, along side Achilles and Patroclus giving them protection alongside their allies. The man was taller than any human could ever be, some text described him as 2.40 meters tall (7 foot 10) with short black hair and skin tattered with flames patterns on his hands, feet, back and shoulders. His golden eyes and deep lucent black irises were always focused on the enemy, never leaving them out of sight and using his personal spear and bow to gain casualties to laugh about. But the most outstanding feature were his wings, big and slender, filled with bright golden orange and red sharp feathers used as weapons.

It was you who did all of that, it was you who had a personality that had you killed many times and then be reborn until the modern days.

You had been alive for more than 2000 years in a constant cycle of life and death, the more you lived, the more you knew how to brawl, study and everything making you a respected being. But only one thing you didnt learn, and that was how to love. You tried over and over again, falling and then watching them die or cheat or abandon you.

There was this one girl, a princess of a powerfull kindom whom you really loved. It was clear she did the same as after some years she offered her body for you to worship and have a child, or so you thought. One evening, as she spoke of tussling in the sheets, she mentioned that she really needed to know if your love was true by chopping off your wings and offering them. The ones that made you fly into the scorching sun, between the lush green mountains of their pearly white peaks. You listened to her, with half lidded eyes and a gone mind too captured by her demeanors and features, you didn't notice the sharp pain scattering itself from your back. Your breath itched and then was gone, and so were your wings. Thick golden rivers of blood flew your open lacerations, carving paths of your lover back and forming deep lakes on the marble floor.

You couldnt yell from the pain, only managing to fall on the ground and squirming like a worm as your mind was becoming more foggy by the minute. You managed to shoot them open for a split second and you caught a glimps of the guard’s bloodied swords, they were beautifully adorned by your golden essence. You spat out a ‘’traitor’’ and an ‘’I will end you’’ before closing your eyes and feeling death wrapping itself inside your now broken heart.

You loved and that was how you were repaied. You woke up in your den on the peaks of the mountain you were once born. The cave was simple and you always hated that. Wanting more was the reason you left it for years before coming back there everytime you closed your eyes, now you wanted nothing more than to sleep in it forever.

Tears rolled off your eyes as you screamed at top of your lungs, animalistic rage speaking and screaming. Your wings were no more, your essence was no more, what was a phoenix without its wings? Nothing. Fake love tore your wings apart and that feeling nestled itself in your soul. Never again you would’ve loved someone again.

From fists, to spears, to daggers, to swords to guns you made your way into the world. Now you were in the military, you decided that this was going to be your forever life. Generals wanted you for your skills, sharpened for thousands of years and your reflexes, your knowledge and your loyalty as you had noone to be loyal to.

From humans to monsters was no easy passage. Seeing their bodies slowly mutate into feral ones wasn’t a shook to you, you saw and felt worse. Your mind didn’t care about your ‘’friends’’ of the battlefield, not until you saw a one winged dragon discussing with a wraith.

You were boarding on a plane towards Urzikstan, voices told that there was a new wanna-be-lord to be taken care of and you were chosen along many other people. As you had your head low and fixated into nothingness you heard some commossion, looking at that direction you made eyecontact with that green dragon. You sneakered and laughed, mocking its inability to fly and the way he was compulsively smoking before boarding the cargo plane.

He eyed your form before crumbling his cigar into smoking bits and yelling you to fuck off. As you sat on the metal seat, squished between other captains you felt some weak embers leaving your hands and falling off your fingers as they become just a non-existing spark.

That was bad, you did that only when you felt yourself falling for someone, that was not happening. Not anymore.

Little did you know that from love you lost your wings, and from love you shall recieve your wings back. In a way. Or another.

this isn’t a request but you’re the only writer i know who writes the monster!au so

dragon!reader and dragon!price are haunting my thoughts. dragons usually have to hold themselves back when sparring because they’re so much stronger than other monsters but with price & reader they don’t need to, to the point where the other members of the 141 are kinda wondering if they need to intervene.

what they do or don’t know is this is you and price courting, testing each other’s strength to assess whether you’re suitable mates. once you have decided you’re suitable it continues in the bedroom, fighting for dominance and testing each other’s stamina as price rides you or you pin price down and see if he can take all the strength behind your thrusts.

OH god I LOVE the way you think! I know @rodolfoparras also did a dragon price some time ago but I'm happy to let my monsterfucker out lol :D I'll consider this a spitball thingy but GOD DAMN did my hyperfixation hyperfixate on this :Ddd kinda rushed at the end but it's 3AM :/

CW:NSFW

What about if dragons measure not just raw strength, but all other aspects as well? They're prideful by nature and with so little of them remaining no self-respecting dragon will settle for a witless brute or a powerless scribe.

Price had lost hope in finding a mate centuries ago because he's even pickier than most of his kin; in his view, a proper one needs to be strong enough to completely pin him down, needs to be smart enough to see the insults in his honeyed words and give back as good as he does, needs to be clever enough to lead men as good as he does.

A proper mate needs to keep up with him on all levels.

And for a dragon of his age, that's an unachievable set of criteria. Oh sure, many of the dragons he's met over the years have tried to match him, but all fell short, leaving him lonely and unsatisfied.

Then he met you, a fellow Captain, a fellow dragon. Though only a few centuries younger than him, you're a wyrmling in his eyes, your scales like shining metal compared to his muddled gemstones. An arrogant wyrmling if the way you peacock for him the first time you enter the training room has anything to say about it— your wings spreading out and muscles rippling, back straightening out to make you taller, scales glinting in the artificial light; little details that anyone else can brush off as a simple stretch but to a dragon it screams of your interest in him.

His slitted eyes roam across your body, both equal parts disdain and curiosity. "Got somethin' ta say there boy?" His words are rough like sandpaper.

"No, no." You hum as you get into the ring, every little movement purposely done to showcase your hard earned musculature. "Just that you should skip out on this fight. Wouldn't want you to throw your back out old man."

"Old man huh?" His eyes blaze with the same fire at the end of his cigar, your words igniting something in his chest that had long been extinguished. "I'll show you old."

And suddenly he's in the ring, both of you trading blow for blow with the same savagery your progenitors had frightened mankind with for millennia, your claws leaving deep grooves in the concrete when you miss his side, his tail smashing a portion of the ground into dust when you avoid it, the ground between you cracking when you try to push the other away, loose scales and dust and debris littering the ground as you and Price wrestle on the ground.

Both of your teams watch from the sidelines, your team calming the other members of TF141 that this is just how dragons are, pointedly ignoring your victorious snarl when you pin Price down to the ground, your clawed hand harshly pushing his face into the concrete to the point you might break his nose as you bite the back of his neck, forcing him to submit. "I win,"

"Not fer long." He snarls back just as deep, feeling alive for the first time in who knows how long. "Best two out of three." And with that he jerks, remaining wing slamming into your side and knocking you off balance long enough for him to fling you into the wall opposite of him.

You don't know how many rounds you go before you're forced to stop by a very pissed off Laswell, who also pointedly ignores the obvious bulges in what remains of both of your pants, giving both of you a stern talking to about wrecking the damn training room.

You're ready to leave after being chastised like a child but Price is quicker, passing you with a "Good fight back there." rumbling in his throat, the soft scales of his wing brushing along your jaw. Your eyes nearly pop out of your skull when you meet his gaze, and Price has a good poker face but the smoldering look in his eyes and the low grumble in his chest makes it's obvious you've peaked his curiosity.

But that's just the start, the hard part is keeping it. While regular dragons may spend time with a potential mate conversing on scholarly subjects or having philosophical debates, you and him have a more practical way of assessing the other's intellect — Battle plans.

To your teams it sounds like a harsh argument, ideas thrown around and sharp insults tacked on top, their heads ping ponging between you and Price as you look over maps, trying to one up the other. Eventually your teammates leave you to settle this on your own.

"And I'm telling you, old man," You growl, both of you so close there's barely any space between you as you point at the map. "We can push a smaller team through the forest while we lead the frontal assault, our wip's not going to have anywhere to go then." You huff, holding your head up high to make it obvious you're proud of your idea.

Price gives you the stink eye, before he scans the map again, humming to himself. After a few seconds he lets out a scoff. "We don't have enough men for that." He says, but the sharp edge in his tone is dulled. "But—" His tail moves to brush against your own, your rough scales brushing against his smoother ones. "—It has some merit."

Price doesn't draw attention to the way your tails intertwine, wrapping together like two snakes, and neither do you. But the short purr that bubbles out of your chest says everything he needs to know, growing louder when he answers with his own, your shoulders brushing together. "Aight, back to work." He cuts your purrs short, but you can't hide the pleased look on your face as your tails remain coiled together.

Then comes the actual courting dance.

One late evening spent looking over documents in the privacy of his office, your tails once again coiled beneath the desk after successfully having proved your wit to him again, absentmindedly telling embarrassing stories of your respective teams. . . Price has a revelation. You might be it. "Hey lad."

You look up, your full attention on him. "Yeah?"

With a mumbled grunt too quiet for you to hear Price slides a hand beneath his shirt and pulls a large green scale from the meat of his shoulder blade, the wound healing before it can even bleed.

Instinctively you know what this means, for knowing how a prospective mate treats an extension of you will show how they'll treat you. But you still speak up, needing proof for your own mind that you're not insane and haven't been burning the wrong tree. "What?"

Price glares at you, "Don't play dumb," He says as he slides the large scale across the table to you. "It doesn't suit you." There's an underlayer of heat in his words, blue slitted eyes looking you over in a much more appreciative light.

You can't control the big grin that spreads across your face, "Oh, then what does suit me?" You ask as you follow his lead, yanking out one of your larger scales from your own back and sliding it to him. It makes the difference between you two obvious, his green scale muddled with age compared to your shiny one.

"Arrogant muppet." The gentle way he picks up your scale clashes with his harsh words, cradling it in his hand like it'll crack at the slightest of touches, his face reflected in the surface.

You grin, "Just confident." You feel his sharp eyes judge every minute twitch of your fingers as you pick up his scale. Price's poker face hides the way his heart melts at the loving way you brush a thumb across the surface, how it throbs when you don't immediately attempt to make it shine like some whelps once did, accepting him for how he is by putting it in your breast pocket.

God, he doesn't even know how much he'd fantasized about something like this when he was still young, vestiges of a purr escaping his throat at the tender way you treat his scale. "Right." He shakes his head and places your scale in his own breast pocket, handing you another stack of papers. "Get back to work."

You grin and do as he says, wings twitching as a sign of joy, your tail squeezing down on his and receiving a squeeze in kind.

Price feels like a horny teen when he lays awake in bed late at night with your scale held between his claws. He feels stupid for feeling so giddy at the thought of having a mate, a proper mate, yet his body thinks differently. Just holding it in his hand is enough to make him grow hot, your scent still clings to the scale and Price finds himself holding it close to his nose to familiarize himself with it and Hell his body loves it, cocks growing hard in record time and his thighs wet with slick. The poor thing doesn't even know what to relieve first, his free hand constantly going between stroking his cocks and fingering himself, mind craving the heat of another dragon that he'd been deprived of.

What Price doesn't know is that you're in the same boat, biting your arm to silence yourself as you imagine it's Price you're breeding instead of a pillow, splintering the headboard from how hard you're gripping it in an attempt to not damage the scale.

Then shit hits the fan when during a routine mission you two are ambushed, and while two dragons are no easy prey for mankind, humans have long since gone from using rocks and sticks. You catch sight of a sniper's scope glint seconds before the bullet targets Price, and in only a few seconds to think you throw yourself in the way, Price's scale in your breast pocket puts enough resistance to make you survive the bullet, but you feel it crack, and that. . . that sets you off.

Price doesn't even have the time to lift his gun before you're tearing through the battlefield like a man possessed, anger burning like a volcano in your chest for trying to hurt him, elemental breath and draconic strength unleashed to it's fullest potential.

And Price? Price watches the show with that same heat burning in his belly, forced to bite his lip to silence the pleased purrs as he rubs his thighs together while you tear flesh from bone, mate flashing in his mind. Look how he protects you His mind purrs, Good mate. Perfect mate.

"I'm sorry." You whimper when you've finally calmed down, the battlefield nothing but a ruined crater and the shards of his scale held tenderly in your cupped hands. "I failed, I-"

"Come here." Price cuts you off quickly and pulls you down into a harsh and desperate kiss, all teeth and tongue and need. He parts just a fraction of an inch, "You passed." He growls and only then do you notice the sharp arousal in his scent, your animalistic hindbrain jumping for joy as you kiss back because holy shit he considers you worthy.

And now that he's found his mate? You best believe his body is going to make up for all the centuries he'd spent alone.

It doesn't even take a week for him to enter heat, waking in a daze with his twin cocks hard and his thighs glistening with slick, your scent lingering in the sheets and your side of the bed still warm. The walls almost shake from how deeply he growls when he registers that you're not next to him, just enough sense in his head to throw on a towel around his waist before angerly stomping through the halls to find you, sniffing you out like a bloodhoud.

"Bloody muppet." Price growls as he yanks you by the horns back to his room, the scent of his arousal so potent you're struck dumb, letting yourself be pushed down. Price's claws slice through your clothes, his hole so slick and eager for you he doesn't even need to stretch, just jumps onto your lap and in one fluid motion takes one of your cocks to the root. "Fuckin' finally." Price hisses, instantly setting a harsh pace of bouncing on your cock that would have had a lesser race end up with a crushed pelvis.

You grip his hips for dear life, surging up to mark his neck and shoulders with bites as he does the same, his ass clapping against your thighs. "Mate." Price moans, hole clenching around you, his cocks leaking against your stomach. "My mate." He grips your hair and pulls you into a bruising kiss, "Going to last long for me yeah?" He asks, a bit of mockery on his flushed face as he feels you cum inside him, riding you through your orgasm as the sudden onslaught of sensations frazzles the intelligent parts of your brain. "Not going to disappoint me now are you?"

Good thing dragons have really short refractory periods.

"Not a chance." You snarl and flip him over suddenly, rumbling purrs escaping your chest from the surprised sound he makes. You attempt to pin him down and he squirms out of your hold, another bout of wrestling breaking out between you that has you two tumbling off the bed and onto the ground.

"That so whelp?" Price breathes out when you manage to pin him down, your strong hand keeping his face flush with the floor. "Do you really think you can keep up?" A pleased thrill runs down his spine from the sensation of your weight bearing down on him, his knees automatically locking up to hike his ass up, tail flipping up to display his slick hole for you.

"Do you?" You counter, one hand on his head, the other pressing both of your dicks together, your two tips pressing against his ass. "You're so wet and desperate, should have just pinned you down the moment I saw you instead of courting you." With one sharp thrust you push in, a pained and elated moan tearing out of his throat at the sensation of your twin cocks spreading him wider than any toy ever could, scratching that itch he'd had for who knows how long.

The stretch and burn and pleasure muddles his mind, reduces him to low animalistic snarls and growls as he does his best to push his hips into yours. "Hurry the fuck up." Price orders, whole body shaking from the way you set a harsh pace, bashing on his prostate, your balls slapping against his own, each hard thrust pushing and pulling his face across the floor. "I'll- fuck- fall asleep."

"You sure about that?" You push your weight further on him, forcing his wing to spread out, your own partially wrapping around him, "Seems to me like-" A bit of elemental breath leaves your throat when one particularly strong thrust has his hole clamping down on you, his back arching to push his hips as close to yours as one of his cocks spews cum on the floor, "-like you're not in a place to order me around."

"You- ah-fuck-ah- wanker." His insult would be a lot more hurtful if he didn't whine like a bitch in heat, both of you devolving into primitive snarls and growls with the only thought on both of your minds being the need to fill Price with as much of your cum as you physically can.

poly! tf141 hybrids x reader au 1/?

Warnings: reader is afab, language, allusions to sex

(Pls be nice I’m not the best at writing, also not proofread)

You who just tags along with your friend who wants to adopt a hybrid. You who walks by and an older mastiff hybrid with a bucket hat sitting alone in a cage catches your eye. The shelter worker stops and tells you about him. That he was a military hybrid but his last owner was KIA and he was put here.

You pause not wanting a hybrid but seeing him look so sad and without purpose you adopt him on the spot.

Bringing Captain John Price home was an awkward endeavor. His ears were perked on alert and his tail not moving as he looked around the big farmhouse. Getting used to each other was another thing on its own. The older hybrid was used to being in control with his owner and now you, a young thing is in control? AS IF!

This leads to fights where you try and stick up for yourself you really do “no the dishes don’t go there.” “You can’t even reach so why do you give a fuck?”

One fight gets so bad it ends up with both of you yelling and him storming closer causing you to flinch thinking he was going to attack you. The older hybrid stopped immediately and his poor fluffy ears pinned down sadly and his tail tucked inbetween his legs.

John tentatively reaches out for you softly taking your arm in his large hand

“I’m-“ he wasn’t one for apologies so instead he took you into his arms, first time you two ever actually touched, and held you in the middle of kitchen.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” His gruff thick accent bled into the silent atmosphere.

From that moment on you two were inseparable, no longer having your own rooms, space, etc. John Price was attached to your hip guarding his new found purpose, you.

Intimacy grew between you two something you never thought would happen. It wasn’t even a thought but John had other ideas the moment he made you his everything. It started with little touches on your lower back with “excuse me.” as he scooted by you in the grocery store. Those little touches became bolder when watching tv he would pull you into his lap saying some bullshit like he was anxious, bastard wasn’t anxious he just wanted to run his large calloused hands up and down your sides and plushy thighs, his hands sometimes dipping into the inside of your thighs, all ‘accidentally’ of course.

He would mutter “sorry” but keep his hand grazing up and down fingers scratching against your shorts. Your cheeks would flame and all you could mutter “it’s fine.” As heat pooled in between your thighs.

John knew he was affecting you, he could smell it. But he never went any further, just liked to tease and watch you squirm. A small smirk etched across his lips hidden behind his facial hair.

It only took a little while longer before you snapped. Both of you were laying in bed trying to go to sleep but his stupid large hands found there way to your upper thigh running his fingers up and down teasingly. His fingers went up across the front of your shorts grazing your cunt causing you to let out a small moan be for you could even stop it. His fingers stopped and your face flushed as your back was to him. You knew John had heard it, hybrid or not.

Next thing you know you are on your back and John was over you his eyes wide and his ears on alert, his tail thumping gently against the sheet.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” He said in a low voice hands gripping your wrists above tour head .