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</T|W> slight dub-con or no explicitly stated consent, senting, a/b/o style rut, edging, riding, multiple rounds, depiction of slight injuries, and thier healing.
</C|W> Smutt this time :p, bottom oc werewolf, top amab reader,
Lucas had come in with a dislocated shoulder and some nasty scrapes. Come to think of it, a lot of the wolves had been showing up with these kind of scuff marks.
You didn't really ask. Just patched them up, but if someone would know and wouldn't care that, it's you asking. It would be Lucas.
As you lifted his wrist, warned him of the pain, with a flat palm against his collar bone just over the dislocated socket. A quick shove and slight twist of his wrist had the joint back in place if a little sore.
His breath hitches with the movement, and he holds onto the coat you use with treating wounds. His hands cramping as he grips onto the stained fabric, holding you there to ride out the pain with his forehead resting gently on your sternim. The puffing breaths shifted the loose shirt under him while you ready the disinfectant over his shoulder.
That's another thing the wolves have taken to. Touch.
Any of the 'pack' as you call them would negate any distance and practically beg you for some form of skin contact. You weren't sure why, but you knew that's how familial relationships are stabilized.
Lucas was the only one to hold on. Or hold you there. Every other wolf would just brush up against you and then let you step back.
"You know."
He looked up at you, his chin resting on your sternum. Eyes looking a little to dilated for the adrenaline drop he should be in now.
"I've seen your groupies more often this week."
"Sorry." His arms wind tighter round ypur waist. Not even pouting about the name-calling. "Lots of the pups are going through the 'fight for my mate' phase of growing up."
"Thought that was just a wives tail."
"Nope very real."
"And they need some big strong Alpha to break it up?"
This odd rumble vibrates against your chest. It's almost enough to distract you from patching his spine up.
"I'm more to stop the ones that go past just play fighting."
"I need to clean your neck. And well, the other cuts." You pause when those same dark eyes flicker up to you. Clearly, you weren't clear enough.
"You need to move, so I can help you."
"Help sounds nice."
"Yes so move"
Lucas only shuffles back, unlooping his arms but still holding on to you. Forcing you to kneel down so you could actually clean and tape the wounds he came here for.
Those ink filled eyes still stare as you start on the cuts along his ribs and chest. Hardly flinching when the antiseptic cuts through the dried blood, and you have to push against him to stop the renewed bleeding. His pupils almost seem blown, and the scientist in you wonders if this fight for a mate actually releases a hormorn that keeps his eyes like that.
It's almost like he's looking at the prize of the fights that's been happening. Well, you haven't seen any of the disputes, displays, whatever they really are. So you can speculate their use.
"All done," with a pat to his chest, to pull his attention back from the dazed look he has. "Anything else? Or are there more."
"I don't know. I don't think you're done."
"What? Did I miss anything?"
"Yeah,"
Lucas smirks, leaning back on his hands. Shirt right there at the end of the table, but he refuses to put it on.
"I need a kiss to make it better"
Red flushes all through your neck and up your ears, eyes going wide. This was just a joke right?
But you leaned down, hovering just a breath from him. It was almost serene. Just standing there in the cold open room, this thick emotion hanging off the air between you and him.
Lucas was the one to break the quiet moment.
The split skin of his lip was near sharp as he kissed you, just a soft press at first. But then you lean up against him. Feeling every breath he took with the rise or fall of his chest against yours. His skin radiating heat like a furnace.
Those ruff hands gliding up, under your work coat to trace your jaw and settle along your neck. That same rumbling noise vibrating agaisnt you as he growls.
Some wolves can growl as a sign of playfulness, a fake growl for lack of a better term. It's more a tease or verbal invite to play. And he keeps growling as he pulls you impossibly closer. Arching up into you, just to grumble louder.
The old and ratty matris you use for the more hurt patients, bending under your weight. Lucas opens his eyes to stare at you with a golden ring, elipsing lust blown pupils. Fangs nip ever so softly over your lips and toungs, with soothing kisses placed after the harder nicks.
Must be the full moon looming to rise at the end of the week, amoslt two days of hyper wolves apparently now fighting to prove their love.
As if sensing your distraction, Lucas hauls you up, dropping you beneath him. Those ruff hands are still tracing any link to skin it can find along any gap between your waist and shirt. Happily feeling over the scars he watched you patch up. Panting down your throat between taking your breath away with each searing kiss.
Straddling your thighs, striping your jacket, and shirt with rushed movements. Leading your own hands to his skin, begging in all but words for you to touch. Careful of the buises, you hear those playful growls start up. Now you can feel it vibrate in his chest against yours.
The air around you in this old place warming with each brush of hands, or roll of hips. It's burning this feeling of lust deeper into your soul than you thought would still be possible.
He's careful of the claws dawning his fingers when tracing the skin under your belt. Easily catching on the fabric and forcing you to detangle him from it.
When you've both shed the last layers, you start to realize why his pack mates jokingly call him Alpha.
All it takes is one slip of your fingers over his waist, against his spine, and he's practically presenting for you. Back dropping down so he could roll his ass back into your hands.
"Please."
Lucas laps his ruff tongue over your throat. Chasing the beating pulse thundering away under it, a thick fur scratching at your thighs.
Seems he's partially shifted. Ears replaced by his canine form, tail flopping over your knuckles as you need the muscle under it. But..
There was this. Fairy tail, of sorts.
It was some girl who would brag about her partners in bed. But if what she says is true.
"Hmm, that feels good."
Bingo.
"You're very good at this."
His tail does wag when complemented. Good to know.
It's just the simple sway the end, but maybe.
There's a simple lubricant in the top draw, and an audible thumping follows your breach of him. It's almost distracting, but none the less adorable.
With your dick now fucking up into him, rendering his mind completely blank besides those breathless little noises that he can't seem to keep in.
All it takes is him rolling his hips back into you for it to finally gain a rhythm. And for you to say,
"Fuck. You feel amazing."
The sudden moan and long whimper had almost worried you, and yet he clamped up like a vice. His dick jumping in time with his heart rate so, so close.
One hand on his throat, and the other rubbing along the base of his tail, you methodically take him apart. Finding every spot that makes his gasp, every angle that makes his back draw tight or mouth hang open, every place to scratch raised red marks, suck darling bruises. All of it.
You keep him lost in the pleasure but never enough to cum, even when hes close its easy to pull at his hair, scratch at his hips, to keep him feeling good. But not enough.
Right when you know you have him on the edge, right when you know he's desperate enough to listen.
"Good boy"
Lucas practically locks up. His orgasm rushed through him without any warning, his own cum dripping past his jaw and neck. Breath ragged, although he can't be to worn out.
As his tail still thumps against the inside of your thigh. Eyes practically glazed over before he started moving again.
"Just like that." You comand into his ear, watching it flick with the ghost of your breath against it, "good boy~"
I love, love, love the whole monster dynamic or unusual traits that are explained by "Oh, it's not human. That's why" honestly, I just like weird people with weird quirks. So eh.
•Part 3 will be linked when done
Edit: it's done!
《《《(masterlist)》》》
</[T|W:]> injury and death, death related trauma, mild body horror, medical malpractice, inhuman depictions, sexualization of disability, sexualization of insecurity, use of multiple cultures and religions (could be wrongfully used, if so. Tell me!!),
</[C|W]> reader is dark with intrusive or dark thoughts. But strictly SFW. So no smut. Aslo intended male reader,
The first time you arrived on this content, you were hog tied, a thick steel cord used to immobilize you. The guards even muzzled you as if you could bite them with any kind of force that could necessitate this kind of restraint.
It was half for the humiliation of dragging you over the dirtied port, the gravel and sand, and salt that scrap into your already tattered cloths. The burn against the neglected and painful remains of your body. Half that this was to make you look dangerous.
The hulking man carrying you hardly glances at you as he dropped your limp body on the deck. Considering it doest get a reaction out of you, it doesn't startle the werewolf there.
Most humans only want to interact with the inhabitants that look human. Considering most affected by lycanthopic bodies, appear human. At least sometimes. The guard preferred them to be present at the coastal office.
And that's how you were left.
No paperwork, no notice that you were coming.
Just.
Dropped off at the wolf's feet and abandoned to whatever they would do to you now that you're here.
It's the first time in a while that you could just shut your eyes and ignore everything around you. The guards weren't too kind to you while you were in their care.
They had set you up, those werewolves, with a home. A small, dingy, half abandoned thing surounded by nothing and no one. And gave you time to heal.
They would visit you, that leader you met the first day specifically; though many jokingly called him 'Alpha' when he was around his friends. But when he had come to you on the fourth day. Your body now regaining strength. He walked into a startling scene. He hadn't even smelt the blood.
He, Lucas you later over heard him being called, watched as you methodically cleaned the many wounds that engulf your body. Shirt discared beside you, seeing the full expanse of those injuries new and old on display. You're only covered by a pair of boxers as you work. Watching how you took thick strips of the bandage to temporarily cut blood flow above as you cleaned each wound on your arm.
Holding the loose edges held between your teeth, your free hand disinfecting the rotting edges of skin and muscle. He was ready to jump and stop you when he watched you grap the bisecting scissors, and yet he didn't. Only forced to stare in abject horror as you started to cut the rotten edges of the gashes of. Small snips that carved out the dead tissue. Leaving fresh rivets of blood slowly dripping down your skin.
It had taken him a few moments of standing there to see you were struggling. The pain flaring up from your work, becoming overwhelming while thin tears stream down your face. Yet you utter nothing but silence into the blood-stained cloth between your teeth.
That's when he actually apaoches the bed, being careful to wait till you put those scissors down before he asks what he can do to help.
"Sit here. I need to wrap it."
Lucas was slow to follow. He was so terrified that you were doing this wrong, hurting yourself in a delusional want for the pain to stop. He couldn't help but ask.
"You know what you're doing here, doll?"
"Yeah." Your hitching breath makes your voice stutter, "done it before."
That makes his chest tight, a feeling he associated with his werewolf friends. Because. Well.
"You've done it to yourself before?"
"No. Just inmates."
"You some kind of doctor?"
"Not a practicing one."
That arm now taken care of, you focus on the other.
Lucas loses his train of thought to the picture of the malnourished man before him having an illegal medical office.
"Your not a doctor?"
"I am." You mutter to his absolute confusion,
Pulling his hand to your shoulder, handing him the end of the ternicate, he holds it on autopilot. Lucas stares as you start the process all over again. These look like they are from a whip
"I don't work as one." You clarify. Using the conversation as a mid point for the dance between pain and relief. "I worked as a mortician."
"What."
"I worked with the dead-"
"Oh, yes. I got that but. Why? Why not be a doctor if you can. Well."
"More people died where I lived."
He can tell it's only half a lie, but he can't exactly see what.
"Never needed to save anyone."
All he could do was say, as sincerely someone who couldn't understand, that.
"I'm sorry you ended up here."
It stuck in Lucas's mind.
The knowledge that you were a doctor. Someone who could help.
But was it his place to ask?
Could he ask you? Was it too soon or too late to even try?
When he brought it up to one of the old Naga that enjoyed his company, she told how helpful someone like you could be.
To human.
Very few doctors even touch the non-human side of medical care. And even fewer would actually touch a monster. So it was a slim to none, chance you knew how to help any of them.
They weren't even sure of your own humanity or lack thereof.
"But tell you of it, Lu," she wound her coils tighter around herself. Resting her head against the shimmering scales, "If, and it be a big if. That man be a healer, he will fulfill the oath all doctors take."
He watched her thin tongue taste the air. The ugly edge from where it was docked, disappearing again behind her lips. It made certain syllables painful to say. It made her speech irregular, and some Grammer off, bit aleast she had her toungue.
"Many healer, medicinal or not. Will treat all who fall. It be only thier know how that keep those they help alive."
The vampiric monarch that lived out South was the best bet to test what Dai said.
Lucas had taken you on a tour, showing you how they tried to help each other on the huge city they gathered in. It was late dusk, but he knew he could still try.
The thralls that romed inside were lethargic as he led you further in the hotel looking housing.
Many of them hunched over in the halls, huddled close. If escaping the setting sun or your presence, well. You weren't quite sure.
And just as you try to move towards the excite, a shrill hiss breaks out behind you. This young girl, with a sqeaky hiss, was doubled over. Clutching at her shoulder.
"Oh, fuck. Sal, I'm so sorry!"
You could see the sizzling skin before she near calapsed.
Moving as if by spell, you cuaght her befote she could actaully fall. Careful to place her more gently down against the wall.
It's hardly a thought as you lift your sleeve, still holding that child so she wouldn't hurt herself. You rip open the berely closed wound there on your palm. The blood seeoping into her shirt and engulfs the wound in a few quick seconds.
You have the gash re-wrapped before the teen who bumped her is there to hold her as the blood heals her.
"Dai was right," Lucas whispers, as quiet as he could. "She said this could happen."
"And what had Dai spoken of the man holding my niece?"
The old morge on the outskirts of town was now yours. Lucas said it was just an empty lot, just a place for you to finally settle. Even if it was run down.
The citizens each pitching in to help set the place up, a carpenter Tanuki who was just passing by or the siren that just so happen to be an electrician needing a spained wing checked, and the slow trickle of each patient started up not long after.
It started with the bigger things, a broken bone here, and a deadly illness there. Just the worste most couldnt handle, like pregnancies or viseral injuries. But then you started to step up and werw seeking out people to help anywhere you could.
In the bay sector, where most aquatic or amphibious residence stay, keeping them from friction burn during shedings. Or the construction sights, who always had a sprian or a bruise or a nick you could see to.
Always with the same excuse. Just that you needed some food and then you were dragged into a group to eat with them and well, might as well clean and fix up that cut they have while you're here, right?
No, it's no trouble. Saves the trip if it gets worse, doesn't it?
You met Dai, found the Monarch of those Vampire's hunkering down in the hotel. Finding his name was Emile, or that's what people gave him as a nickname. You even met the rest of the shifters, or more specifically, the leader who would collect and help that specific type of shifter.
Day in and day out, you kept going, kept looking till you found the ship you needed pulling up to shore.
Not a lot of people knew you dealt in black market trades. Only the ones who needed to know, did.
Most just thought is was a simple trade.
You know, some fresh goods for medication. Or knowledge for medical supplies. And yes, sometimes. It was just that.
At the end of each week, you would filter into the decks where you were first dumped here to meet with some of your contacts. Trading what you scavenged from ypur work to keep the shelves well stocked.
It wasn't like you made any money, nor had you ever asked for any. So it wasn't a stretch to say this was the only way to keep things as they where.
That isn't to say you didn't keep some things.
Quills from a lionfish who contracted a bacterial infection on some of his spines. Fangs from that vampire girl, Sal, as she started sheding them. Small bundles of feathers from the flock of sirens that fly with avians.
It was all just so much better.
That was until the second spring hit the city.
All I can imagine is a reader who lives in a continent full of monsters.
One of the only humans there, or well. Human adjacent.
You make some of your money by being a health care worker for the monsters here, not a healer per say but the closest thing to one any of them can get. You're the go-to for cuts, scrapes, bruises, and dislocated limbs. Even for the more, not human side of the residents.
There's nowhere else to go. It's you or deal with it alone.
You learn their stories, or their scars, even the trauma they have to carry. Like the deep forest Naga, whose flares dull when the clouds start to gather. Or the lycanthop who couwers at any loud sound. You are the only one the youkai trusted to help.
That's not the only way you make your money to keep the medical office stocked.
Many of the creatures or monsters can "shed" certain parts. Like the vampire's teeth, they shed those fangs neat yearly, or the avians, the false angles, who mault. But other times, when things like corpses or amputations are a must to hold. You can use those parts, too.
What did those human rulers who exiled you expect?
That a mortician would just be happy to sit down and watch the people around them fumble with basic injuries and watch those small little cuts fester and rot, let alone the major injuries that come about.
You had a fucking medical and veterinary doctorate so you where going to use it.
If that means dismantling the dead or selling off the things you don't keep for study or as trinkets to keep that medical practice open?
Then gladly.
"Just, please... please. I'll beg."
Poly_TF_141 x sex-demon_reader Prt:2
Read part 1 here 》 ....
A_N:... Continuation of the previous! This is part two, and to do with Werewolf Soap going into 'heat' but not the abo kinda heat. Soo, expect more wolf like behavior, and again, the same warnings apply.
CW.|.TW:... Sexual content. Intended male reader. Bottom but Dom reader. Polly-cule TF 141. Religious depictions of demons. Allusion to Reader having an Eating Disorder and the recovery there of. Ghost x Soap x Reader
It had taken some time and effort, but finally, finally, you were OK with the casual emotion that the team shared with one another.
Being a permanent member of the team seemed to help. You even put on weight in the recent months that you've actually fed semi regularly, although it wasn't anywhere near what you should be getting but it was miles better then the months you used to starve through.
Price made sure that any time between missions, there was some form of sexual intention in his team.
Not the hardest thing when all of them have been intemit with each other for years before you joined in with the physical side of things. And Price let you have your fill of him whenever he saw that drop in you again.
But someone else came knocking that night.
A blushing Soap who was leaning heavily on your door frame, looking almost shy for his bulkier body. He hardly says anything as you beckon him in. Eyes still down cast even as he leaves the door ajar and is sitting all but an inch away from you.
"I wan'ed te ask ya if yeh would..." he starts, blush spreading down his neck. "Can ye. I just wanted.."
That's when you felt a pulse of a sweeter emotion, a spiking arousal that was tainted with a primal urge. This absolute need for something so deeply sexual it was practically making your mouth water.
"Your lycanthopic urge?" You question,
"Aye, my heat kinda snuck up on me." He answers with a curt nod. Still not looking at you.
Your fingers find his chin, easily lifting his stubble edged jaw, so he was nose to nose with you.
Soap had dilated pupils, only elipsed by this thin sliver of his irus. Those needs already making his mind want to lean in and chase those lips of yours. Instead, he flicks his eyes back up, that emotion growing thicker, sweeter, with the movement.
"Just please..." he half begs, already so desperate. "Please. I'll beg. I'll go away if ye don't wanna, but I just.."
"Ok, I will lend you help."
You've hardly gotten the sentence out before Soap jumps you. Stealing breathless kiss after breathless kiss.
Guiding your hands to his skin, slipping them under his clothes, and soaking in the warmth with your skin on his. He gets so touch starved, so sensitive to it, when he's like this.
You near fucking his throat with a long split toungue isn't helping him think any more coherently. He tried to ignore the gentle tangle of your hands as you started getting him undressed. Body more demonic with the crackling desires streaming from Johnny's need for intimacy.
"You still got your mind in one peace there lad?"
A deep rumble follows from the door, Ghost standing there with his head tilted. Commenting, "Dumb Mutt just got one thing on his mind."
"You came to watch or pass along something or another."
"Oh, I wanna watch."
Simon crosses the distance from the door to your bed in two quick strides, fingers gliding in the panting Soap's hair. Pulling him back by the grip he has on the werewolf's Mohawk.
"Mainly to see this one don't hurt ya, hun. But to see if yah would need help."
Johnny rolls his hips against your thigh, toungue lulling out past his fangs and bruised lips. Eyes unfocused as he tries to keep his body still while miserably failing.
"Can get a bit one tracked and forget who's helpen 'em. And Price warned me yah got a habit of ignoring yourself."
"Acceptable. Just help me strip him before he cums in his pants."
"Alright hun."
You end up kneeling with Soap, hopelessly humping against your thighs with you stretching out your back so you can reach for Ghost as he leans back. Your hands trace over the fat of his thighs before using your tail to wrap around Johnny's waist, keeping a firm grip to help him actually get what he wants.
His cock already painfully hard, pulsing with each beat his heart had. He was happy to be pulled to where you wanted him, all but panting into your nape as he ruts up against you.
It's always that first breach that knocks the breath from you, but Soap sits still after he's fully sheathed. Just trying to feel as much as he can with skin against skin as that lusty haze fills his mind.
When he does start moving, it's at a brutal pace. Hardly pulling out before shoving back in all the way. Jolting your whole body.
That thickly suffocating emotion had your throat vibrating in the closest thing your kin could produce to a purr. Easily keeping him steady and against you with your tail. You could feel his back tense and ripple with each roll of his hips, with your tail snugly against his waist as he licks along any skin he can.
You heal too fast for him to see the hackies he's working along your shoulders, but the darker marks of his teeth do stick just a bit longer.
It's Simon who traces the rivets of your ram like horns, eyes watching the hitch in your breath. Fingers ever so gentle as he traces all the dents and scrapes along them; careful to rub his palms down the curve against your skull. And you can taste the lust that's just as strong from him.
When Soap had cum with a snarl, as he bared his teeth against your spine, you could feel how the tired feeling was pulsing along the need to keep going. He was hard and needy as he couldn't set a rhythm with the fatigue settling along.
He must have tried to get off before getting the courage to ask for your help.
Feeling a bit sorry for the werewolf, you roll him over; turning to face Simon as you hover over Johnny's body. Watching as Soap mouths over Simon's dick through his boxers, those sex blown eyes watching him.
When you started the roll off your hips, against the shivering Soap who moans egging you on; you saw Ghost lift his gaze. Watching you ride the other with ease.
"Shit." Ghost comments,
He hefts himself up to his knees, nearly covering Johnny's face with his crotch. The wolf didn't seem to mind. Just mouthing and licking at all he could reach. Soaking more of the fabric with his spit.
"Price gave this view no justice when he told me 'bout it."
Redoubled your efforts as more warmth flooded you, but Soap didn't soften. He only meets every roll down with a thrust up.
"Don't know why any of you enjoy it, and not the action."
Johnny is whimpering under Ghost, body trembling in over stimulation. Mind lost in the throws of the absolute pleasure you're helping pump through his very soul.
"More ta do with ya looking like yah enjoying yaself then the act alone."
"You have to be none-"
Those fingers dance over your horns, finally pulling a quiet noise from you. He leaned into you, sharing the quick hiffs of air you're both taking.
"That," Ghost repeats the action. You don't moan this time, but the effect is still evident. "Is what we enjoy of this."
"Prove it."
"Gladly hun." Before his eyes roll back into his skull, "Fuck... watch the teeth soldier."
Soap had pulled his boxers off with just his teeth, getting to his dick. At the comment, Johnny bared his teeth against the intimate skin of Simon's inner thigh. So close to him that the danger runs his blood just that bit hotter.
And for all that Ghost likes the danger, that bit of pain, he doesn't actually want to bite him. And not nearly as hard as he bites at you.
"He will tire out soon, just a warning."
Simon clasps at your horns, pulling you closer by them.
"Not for long hun, he'll be up and wanting more in no time." He presses his lips against yours, mumbling with a smirk, "and I wanna tag team him when he does."
Why didn't you say anything?
Poly TF 141 x sex-demon reader (male intended but has depictions of fem):
A|n: Based on this writer's amazing work and this artist's au. And now this is very long.... I can't just write porn can I? Of well.
Prt:2 is done <3 》》》》》
Be warned I use more Catholic or deamon depiction of our succubus(male) reader, so please expect some body horror esk depictions. Also, the 141 are all in a polycule in this story.
CW: NSFW halfway through after the line break, sex addiction or dependence depicted for reader, threats to health, kind of eating disorder esk, talk of threats/acts of noncon and dubcon to reader (not focused on), polyamory, some talk of religion, why is this so long? And angst??? Ok....
Thinking about being a demon who became the 141's spy. The blood of the damned that ran through you, making you that much more dangerous and that much better at your job.
You fell under the deadly sin of lust, but it's been so many decades that you can't quite remember how you came to be. Maybe reincarnation, maybe you were summoned. It doesn't matter anymore, but it still hindered your intake into the military. You were practically a veteran by the time Price picks you up and drags you into his team.
None of the 141 had ever worked with anyone demonic for an extended amount of time. There had been the call ins and times when they picked up failed missions, but none of them ever really worked with a demon.
Ghost, as a wraith, was the closest any of them had gotten to working with anyone similar to you.
You started out as someone they called to scope out information before a particularly threatening mission. You were just the help, the one they called when they needed a spy. Until they leaned about how every other task force would drop you within a month of calling you thiers.
Price had worried that it was something to do with you or your attitude towards teamwork when he had taken you in, made you one of his men.
That was before he noticed this kind of cycle you would go through. Just when a mission would start, you would pull back. You would separate from everyone, not cold turkey, yet you just wouldn't be present. The training room was one person short, or their would be one less person here on the quieter afternoons he didn't even know this team had.
It was after the missions that you would be more than present again.
You were there again when Soap wanted to run his lycanthopic body to exhaustion just so he could feel just a little more human with the pains it brought. When he was hyper, feeling like he needed to move, you were there to shove him. Drag him into a game of tag or chase or anything to help him move. Soap has never been good at sitting still.
When Gaz needed to be called from the purch he picked to preen his damp or irritated feathers on that was away from the busy noise of the base. Or when his Avian blood told him to take to the sky, you were happy to be taken for a flight or watch him loop around, watch him stretch his wings, across the star splattered skies.
And there you were outside with the nocturnal Ghost, saying you didn't need the sleep most nights and got bored. Even when his form would flicker, tendrils of shadows lashing around his open skin, something that made most run. You stayed with him, hummed a tune you can't remember the origin of, in a language probably only those as old as you would remember.
When Price was struck with phantom pain, when he would feel this pang on his wing only to realize it was from the one that didn't exist anymore. You were there with him. Happy to share a cigar with the smoke that smoldered was neither from his drag nor you. There to sit and fill in paperwork long into the night shift, to just exist around Price when the team was still settling in, or licking wounds.
In the more common areas where Soap would annoy Gaz into another game of cards. You were there to keep the peace.
It had taken Price longer than he was willing to admit to know what was going on. It wasn't some manipulative, carrot and stick, trick no. And it almost seemed like you hadn't consciously been doing it. Before it clicked.
You were a demon, a succubus, to be specific. You fed off of the emotion or the intent of sex.
And you only got that when you needed to get someone to talk. You only lean into it when it's needed for a mission.
He honestly felt stupid, like a leader that failed, but he was quick to right that failure. It wasn't like this team didn't run off and blow off steam together or that they left soap to struggle through his heat alone, nor did they leave Gaz to sit and brood alone. None of that.
And if you were a part of his team, this team, then you can't be starved. Can't be left to weaken, to crave, no. Price wouldn't stand it.
So he talked to the team. Told them his theory, his plan to fix it, and when the team had gotten over the hurt of leaving you alone and weak. They jumped at the opportunity.
Starting small.
Being more openly affectionate around you, never quiet reaching out but still letting the emotions linger.
Those play fights that Ghost would tap out of suddenly just kept going, and those thick visceral emotions none could quiet place the origin of; would hang so heavy in the air you could practically catch it between your teeth.
Those days Gaz would pull back, preen his wings alone; became fewer and far between. Now, the nearest team mate had a lap full of fluffled up wings and pleading eyes. And could Gaz use those honey coated eyes of his to glance up through his lashes and beg.
The quiet chuckles and this ever so pleased emotion would wind around Price's incisors, a satisfied thrill of the dragon flooding a palpable semblance of the satisfied job.
Price started talking about to the team, and they started trying to be more connected, more present, with you so you could have that nourishment. And if that meant that private room doors were left ever so lightly ajar during late nights spent with each other. No one mentioned it.
Soap was the first to notice the actual change.
Your eyes would flicker, puplis vibrating softly before it was shut down, and you would disappear. Or you would actually pull back. He was also the first to tell Price. And thier leader waisted no time.
"You good there, lutenent?" His voice calls softly into your quarters.
"All good Cap."
"Not so sure about that one soldier." Price presses on, taking a step further in to push the door more closed, "You don't play well with this team?"
"No, I have no qualms with any of you. Sorry if it seemed so."
"Ya do always talk so proper like you know?"
"Apologies, old habits."
Price steps closer, easily taking the space offered my your open thighs. Letting that simmering feeling flush his skin.
"Maybe we should start making new ones. What do you say, Sugar?"
His hand hovered just over your throat, careful to keep you feel safe. Price of all people knows what a demon can do when cornered, and it wasn't like he wanted you to feel put off.
He sees what Soap saw, just as his palm cups the edge of your jaw, your pupils flicker. Body dropping almost leaning agaisnt him.
"Why didn't you say something, Suguar?"
"Not of my use in this team."
"You don't need to be useful to eat." He sounded almost angry, calming all the more when you do lean into him, "you never need to earn a meal. Just ask. We all want to help."
That night, he let you ride him.
Laid back against your bed, held your weight by your thighs, and let you set the pace. Even if he was so hard it hurt, or if your dark lion-esk tail would flick across the sensitive inside of his thigh. Or when he's come twice and is practically drooling before he notice just how much more like your kin you look.
He doesn't stop you from flicking a forked tongue over the overwhelmed tears, he only noticed the change at the hitch of your breath when Price tangles his scared hands in your hair. Accidently tracing the curving rams horns that has twisted around your more pointed ears.
Singing your praise, even as you tried and failed to explain that you don't matter in this, just his pleasure.
He shut that down real quick.
Open_<p1nn3dm3ss4g3.exe>....
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... 〔 Yes/No 〕 ...
Answer_accepted...
《LvL: [19] | 》DoB: [21/01/2005]
《Gender: [T Male] | 》Residence: [RSA]
All communications are 【(open)】, Axar is ready to help!
</「more_contact_options.link」>
For a disability I do not have, unless, with a reputable source, explaining said disability in detail. Includes both mental and physical disabilities
Strictly female reader. I will write reader or characters afab but not directly female. Gender neutral or fem looking are complete fine.
Any rape or non-con scene. I will write cnc and tag it as such, but not actaul non-con
Copraphillia, urophillia, scat, or the like. Blood, however, is ok. As well as light piss kinks that are not with the previously stated things.
Pedophilia (MAPS don't exist. Fuck off), Zoophillia, Sexual age/pet regression, infantalism, ABDL and such. Nothing sexual with any kind of underdeveloped mental or cognizant abilities.
○Note: This list can change or be added to○
If you are unsure, feel free to ask. I will warn you that I can be a smart ass or sound rude, but that is not my intent. It is just how I was raised.
○Note that all are tagged on this post for ease of filtering○
#not_writing [all none writing posts]
#personal_notes [just thoughts or ideas]
#authors_notes [related to writing posts]
#minimuim.exe [the smaller (under a paragraph) writing posts]
#wip.txt [uncompleted, but puplished works]
#re_blog.exe [rebloged post from other blogs]
#anti_AI.doc [fuck Ai and all its scummy doings]
</Old_man_[Prince]> who_wears_glasses_×_male_reader_
</Avian_[Gaz]> sub_[Avian_Gaz]_x_Gender.Not.Stated_top_Reader
</[Part:1]> Includes:_[Price]_[Soap]_[Ghost]_[König]_[Alejandro]_×_Reader_
</[Part:2]> Includes:_[Rudy]_[Gaz]_[uncompleted_Keegan]_[to_be_added]_×_Reader_
</[Part:1]> Dragon_[Price]_&_TF_141_×_Succubus_Reader_
</[Part:2]> Wraith_[Ghost]_×_Werewolf_[Soap]_×_Reader_
</[First_thought:_will_be_intro]>
</[Part:2]> more_thorough_Introduction_
</[Part:3]> Alpha_werewolf_x_male_reader_
</[Uncompleted]> Vampire_monarch_×_reader_
-Old man price with glasses x male reader ● | ♡
</Poly_[Lovers]_Group.Chat> Tattoed_Top_×_Soft_Boy_Switch_×_Bottom_GN_Reader_
Honestly never written who Gaz before but it's fucken fun! Love the weird boy.
No idea who else I should add??? I'm looking. I'm a looking.
COD Men x K-9 Unit reader (WIP)
Reader works with a K-9 unit, and his partner is called Mutt, who is a mix breed of Alaskan Akita and Doberman(Mutt is also a service dog as reader has paranoia and C-PTSD). Readers call sign is Riot. The 141 boys needed help tracing a terrorist and John called in some favors to bring Riot and Mutt into the field. He helped the Los Vaqueros as well.
After the mission back at base, reader interacts with the men, and they end up interacting with reader.
Mentions of panic attacks, anxiety attacks, C-PTSD, war, and / or war related violence. Unhealthy coping mechanisms, past trauma. Death of a family member. Torture, scars, and flashbacks.
-Growing up alone, with only his mother. He adored the way you worked with Mutt. Sure, seeing the hulking mass of pure muscle and fur that was your partner is its own kind of scar, but he still adores how smooth you two are when out on a mission. -That fear is cemented when you suddenly whistle sharp and turn almost slaminginto him. Only for a hostile to drop under your hound who tackled them. Holding the enemy soldier down with snarls and jaw snapping in an obvious threat. He leans the cues you give that insight a violent recation, just a show or an actaul attack. All so he can predict the behavior. Not liking the scar. -The way you and Mutt act outside of the field had confused him. Why the hound was still so focused on you, why were you so reliant on Mutt. It's only the years he spent in hostile land that gives him a clue. You survived something. Mutt helps deal with the leftover pain it caused. -Rudy only sees that pain later, finding you down on the floor with Mutt desprerate to get you calm. He's seen how Alejandro deals with this kind of thing, but he didn't want to leave you here. Just to wallow in the panic. Making sure you heard him approach, to mutter. "What's, Oh, mierda. Hey. Hey, Riot?" He'll kneel down beside you when he knows you've noticed him. Making sure to keep his voice calm and quiet. "What, come on, que puedo. How can I help you?" "Talk. Please, just. I can't be in my own head right now. Talk to me. háblame. [Talk to me]" "Ok, ok. Did I. Or have you ever heard how Ale and me met?" "No- no. I don't thin-nk?" "Silencio ahora [quiet now], I'll talk. We met..." -You start seeking him out and learns Mutts call for him. He sees how much that takes out of you and when your drousy and half passed out? That's when you start talking to Mutt. Growling, yips, whines, and just going back and forth with each other. -Its the times he growls back at you, that you snap awake. He'll laugh it off, but after he sees how much fun it is for both of you? He'll growl at you just to tease you or walk up behind you just to growl a breath away from you. He loves it, sees you jump only to recognize it as him, them chase him down across the base. Even in the field, you also play along. On the days when it's quiet and you two need to hunker down for a sand storm. It becomes a norm of you scaring him so bad, he'll jump a foot in the air. -Rudy will start ruff housing with you as well. Even helping Mutt shove you around when you both get the free time to be home. It started small, little shoves and shoulder checks escalating to wrestling. He still growls at you. Hell, he even laughs at you and Mutt, yapping at each other when the two of you ruff house. As much as he doesn't want to admit it, he enjoys the quiet, too. Not nearly as much as the adrenaline of chasing you or you chasing him down, but it's still comfort. -The darker nights for you, the flashbacks, the way Mutt will help with it, he learns it. He slowly starts to ask, saying. "You can tell me fuck off Roit, but. Quiero saber como ayudar [I want to help you]. I need the story to do that." "Ok, well. It ain't una bonita historia [a pretty story], but you asked so nicely so. Yeah. I'll tell you," -After that, he becomes as much of a guard dog as Mutt is for you. Rudy will become the caregiver his mother raised him to be. What he became for her.
-His first impressions of you and Mutt were nothing to write home about. You were sent in to help get him out of the hostile area after he was surrounded on a search and rescue effort. He was warned beforehand sure, but nothing will ever prepare him for when you came bursting in with a bloodied hound and a flustered Soap on your tail. Following you out as Mutt killed as many men as Soap shot. To Say it took him a minute to comprehend the level of 'fuck all of that' would be an under statement. He came around to Mutt, but it took a while. -You took him with you to the training grounds. After how shocked he was to see you and your K-9 partner, you asked if he wanted to learn how you both worked. If that could make him feel safer around Mutt. And yes. Maybe just maybe you showed off more than you explained, but you did explain how most of your commands were mixed words from several languages. "Wait, so they'll just drop?" "It's called recall training, so sort of." "Recall? Like controlling how far they go?" "Yip, watch." The whole having perfect control over Mutt took Gaz a bit to accept but watching the hound bolt down a fucking run way before you whistle sharp and Mutt suddenly skids to a stop, and then continue at that break neck pace only to come right back to you at a single call. -Gaz, seeing both of you still moving so fluidly outside of the field just felt like a side effect of working together so long. He doesn't think about the layers of scar tissue over your throat. He doesn't care that you disappear every now and gain. Why would he? Is what he wanted to think until the late nights spent on quiet runs through old hostile infested land. When you start talking him through the pain, ebbing from the through and through bullet hole. Holding down on the slow pump of blood, asking him stupid dad jokes. Hoping the mere spite of saying what cap. Price would is keeping him awake. "It'll be fine... just" "How does dark Vader like his toast?" "No. Roit. Please stop." Gaz begs with a breathless chuckle. "~on the dark side~" Full on laughing now, he half snorts. "I said stop!" -He almost chalks the echoing howl that bounced back and forth as a hallucination from blood loss, but considering that the team found you both as quickly as they did? It can't be. Gaz corners you when you both have nowhere to be and are off duty. It's almost embarrassing to sit down and explain that yes, you howled to Mutt, and yes, that's how you find you K-9 amist all that open land. Now Gaz will ask what else you can copy because damn was that awesome to hear. -Becoming more and more comfortable around each other, he gets to hear you howl more often. Even being there when Mutt first tackled you only to growl. It turned into ruff housing quick, both you and your hound growling back and forth. So, who cares that he also likes wrestling with you. He doesn't, and he sure as hell doesn't tell you how stupidly cute it is that you growl at him when he even gets the upper hand. Never will he let you know how fucken adorable he finds you and Mutt. -Gaz owes his life to you. If not, when he was shot , then definitely when Mutt would have his back as you had to crack down a lock. He's not at all as scared as before, he adores how the hound you work with. He enjoys the dumb sad jokes you two shoot off back and forth, over global coms just to annoy Price. But he loves, likes the way you sound exactly like Mutt. Yes, he will go 'grr' at you sometimes, but the sounds of you and Mutt trying to locate each other over the dark field will always be his favorite. Means, you're still alive. It means he can still fight to pay you back later. Not right now, but when that day comes, he won't be the one to let you die. And don't you dare force him to be a fucking lier.
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Planing on doing the Alejandro x K-9 unit reader.
Boys just a flirt so I need ideas on how he would interact,
Like is he a, "Bark for me boy" like ghost?
Or if he a, "I can be good if you asked me to" like Hangi?
Wait no. No no no.
He's a, "Oh you can beg better then that"
Nvm.
[Still like multi opions on that post btw]
Cant stop thinking about the COD men interaction with a K-9 unit reader who copies their K-9 partners noises.
Everything from growling with the hound to whining or even having dog like mannerisms you know?
<first part is done it!!!!>