Nom

Hurt

super soldier!reader x lt ghost (and technically tf141 too)

cw: angst, gunshot wound, mention of needle pricks and piercing the skin

Part one Part two

a/n: phew this was a long chapter and i sped run the last two thousand words.. again. hope you all enjoy 💓

——————————

Ghost was enjoying the game; he always did. All he had to do was turn his thoughts off and stare at the screen and cheer with the others when his team finally kicked the stupid ball into the goal. That’s what it was supposed to be, so was his head still running? He couldn't shake it off, the unnerving familiarity that he couldn't quite place, all because of that damn soldier who looked at him with widened eyes. He had just brushed it off and carried the food and drinks back to the room with the few other operators who gathered.

“Soap! Damnit, how did you..” Gaz groans, although it was actually both of their faults that the drink had splashed onto them in the first place. Soap only scoffs, nudging him with his elbow as the soda starts to drip onto the floor too.

“Oi, ye know damn well yer the one who grabbed me.”

The two huff as they have to get up and head down to the bathroom just a little way down the corridor, washing their hands and wiping down their shirts from the splash.

“Hm? Wha’ ye lookin at?”

“Ghost’s rookie, or whatever. The super soldier– why’s the room door open?”

The pair give each other puzzled yet concerned looks, opting to go inform Ghost rather than try and investigate themselves. In Johnny’s opinion, he did not want to end up on the bad end of that kid–especially from the stories he’s heard–and Gaz couldn't disagree.

“The room door’s open?” As always, Price immediately fills with concern when the two report the news, thinking over the possibilities. You weren’t the type to be reckless like that; though if you were in a rush, it may have been possible. Still, it wouldn't be without a good reason and he couldn’t find a singular one for why you may have done that. Today’s just a regular day, that’s all.

“Ghost said the kid was celebrating their birthday. Maybe they went with whoever came to go out for a bit?” Soap offers, shrugging as he sticks another cheesy nacho inside his mouth. “What’s wrong Cap’?”

Price has gone deadly still, concern spreading across his features along with something akin to guilt. He was supposed to use the budget allocated for you to buy you what you wanted, to give you even an ounce of what you actually deserved, and he had completely forgotten despite the reminder now stuck on his lockscreen. Of course, he did warn you that he was a busy man and may not be able to make it, but dammit he was sitting here watching a football match. “That soldier.. I was supposed to be there, bringing all their party stuff. Yknow, snacks, cake..”

“They’ll understand, Price; probably don't even mind all that much.” Gaz offers, trying to console the obvious guilt seeping from the Captain’s tone. “They’ll just hang with their fellow soldiers. Y'know how the rookies like to mess around.”

“It’s not like that, Garrick.” His expression grows heavier, his hand rubbing the bridge of his nose almost the same way when a mission begins to run off track. “No one speaks to them apart from Ghost and me. They’re on their own.”

——

Ghost pushes the room door open, slightly confused on why Price has ordered him to go check, but he supposes having something go wrong with someone as strong as you was a reason for concern. Though, he really is convinced that it likely isn't a big deal in the slightest; maybe you, and whatever rookies idolised you, had decided to celebrate in the grounds–who bloody knows. He’s a bit surprised by how neat your room is, considering he’s never been in here before, but he had at least thought there’d be some snacks out or something for your supposed guests. He did find it a little weird if he was being honest, how you invited him to your birthday party. You were a young soldier and rookies loved to mess around; surely they’d come join in on the fun or at least take the opportunity to watch a good movie. And him? He was a gruff lieutenant who only wanted to push you to your limits. His hand brushes over the paper thin sheets, curious as to why they’re just as rough as the infirmary beds, not to mention the countless pill bottles on the nightstand. You may be trained by him, but he didn’t bother to look further than what the file typically specified.

His eyes catch on the wardrobe, spotting the uniform that you were wearing this morning hung up already. That was weird, and now that he looked at the contents better, your hiking boots and jacket were gone, only your combat trousers left behind. Just when he was about to check where you kept your knives, his eyes caught on the colourful wrapping of a present, instantly turning his head towards your dresser.

A box lies there, the lid half off. So you did receive a present, huh? He checks for a sender but no indication is left on the box–maybe they didn't bother since they gave it to you on purpose. Out of curiosity, he decides to peek inside, his stomach feeling strangely sick when he sees the gun laid inside the box. He was right to some degree then, that you were abnormal in the way you think, but was he ever so sane? He’s about to head back when he notices the paper beneath, folded over, and picks it up. His heart felt like it broke through his ribs when he read the first line, but the second? He was running back to the others, the box gripped tightly in his hand.

“Gaz, go check the cameras now; try to figure out where they headed.” Price’s voice is loud and authoritative, wasting no time in getting to the root of this matter, especially after seeing that note. Meanwhile, he’s got Laswell on dial, waiting for her to pick up. “John? What’s wrong?”

“Kate, I need the tracker on that super soldier now.”

———————

Ghost had wasted no time, Johnny in tow as they both headed towards the mess hall. It was on the second week you came; you had been late for training. When you eventually arrived, your clothes were wet, having just doused yourself in the shower. But what he did not forget was the remnants of crappy mess hall food stuck in your hair and the ridges of your boots, the sight not particularly one you donned often. Though what should’ve raised alarm bells in his head was passed off as nothing, and even when you attempted to explain, he cut you off, already demanding you to start with no warmups.

His boots thump heavily against the floor, purpose and vengeance written into every step as he searches for your pursuers. If that situation wasn’t enough of a clue, he was damn sure that the chef would’ve seen something that could relate to the matter. “You.” His voice is sharp, instantly catching the man behind the counter, who doesn't waste a second in giving him his full attention; it was almost as if he knew something. Of course he did; everyone knew that wherever Ghost went on a mission, you followed behind, and so vice versa. “Don’t waste my time now. You saw a soldier get food dumped on them. Who did it?”

“Sir..I dont know; there’s always arguments in here-“

Ghost’s hand slams down onto the counter, not oblivious to the flicker of fear in the man’s eyes, like someone who knew they were in the wrong. He wasn’t stupid; the lies were seeping through every stammer in his sentences. “I said, do not waste my time.”

“I-it was three male soldiers–” The chef spills all the information out to him, including their name and the troops they belonged to. Those soldiers would be lucky if they even saw his mask before they felt the blow.

“Lt! Laswell tracked them; they’re in the training cabins up the hills. Capt and Garrick are waiting by the front.” Soap rushes over and Ghost firmly nods, following quickly after him as he leads him outside the building with the others. Price mans the wheel as they drive through the forestry, bumping over branches occasionally; it’s dark out so eventually they have to climb out and walk the rest of the way, torches in hand. They’re drawing closer now, the tracker in Gaz’s hand beeping relentlessly. “Almost there-”

A loud bang echoes across the grounds, startling crows as they scream and caw all around. The four SAS look at eachother with widened eyes before running towards the cabin that is faintly in view. Three soldiers stand outside trembling at the sight of John Price himself and the man with the skull mask, a duo no one ever wants to cross, approaching them, rapidly.

—------------------------

You can hear murmurs outside, or perhaps it’s yells; you can't really tell after the gunshot. Ringing echoes in your head, bouncing off every corner of your skull and repetitively attacking your brain. Every sound has been slowed and muffled as your brain tries to catch up to speed with what's happening, except you’re not the average person, and your brain catches up too fast, too soon, making every feeling crash into you. Soft fur is held between your fingers, clutched desperately as a sickening smell fills your senses. You realise the yells are from yourself, twisting into screams as you clutch the furry creature held tightly against your chest. It’s You’re whimpering pathetically, the bullet that had sounded out from your enemy’s—no, comrade’s?—gun digging deep somewhere. The fox attempts to soothe you, nuzzling its dirty face against your neck, attempting absolutely anything to get you to stop the screams that make your eyes ache and your fingers tremble.

“Kid? Kid!” Two warm hands settle on your shoulders, snapping you back into reality. Men were shouting outside; your throat was dry, and there were no screams apart from the howls of the fox you tightly clutched. Your mouth was open, but no sound echoed, screams playing on repeat in your head like you’d been taught to when they stuck those needles in you. “Someone get a damn medic here now!” A stern voice shouts, but you don't understand until the fox nudges your arm, making a newfound pain sear through you as you look at the blood soaking the fur of the animal. You panic, beginning to squirm only to get soothed by deep brown eyes.

“Y-you—“

The words don't find your mouth, the man staring back at you as he strokes your hair, the blue eyed scot already looking intently at your arm before grabbing what supplies he usually keeps on hand.

“Gaz, Sergeant Garrick, I'm here to help. Stay awake for us now, okay? C’mon, tell me your name, soldier.”

You manage to murmur it out, but your attention is more focused on the way the fox snaps at Gaz’s fingers, stopping him from comforting you. “Kid, you’re gonna have to let go of the fox-“

You shake your head frantically, holding it tighter and it equally follows, staring at Gaz with menacing eyes. “No—It’s hurt! I can't— it got shot!” You exclaim, tears streaming down your face that you didn't know were there before.

“I can help him then, can’t i? I’ll treat him.” Only then do you release your hold, letting Gaz lead the fox away with outstretched hands and a spare piece of food as bait. But you don’t understand. The fox is fine, there’s blood soaking the fur sure, but it’s not in an ounce of pain? So then.. where was the blood coming from? You look down at Soap as he crouches before your arm, and only now do you actually notice the pain stinging your arm, the tremble in your hands and the way your lips hurt from how hard you’ve bitten down. You’re bleeding, badly.

The next half an hour is a blur, between silent sobs that wrack your body, Soap managing to wrap up your arm as best as he possibly can with the gauze he keeps in his attire and Gaz repetitively trying to keep you awake. Still, you’re nowhere near being actually awake, heart thumping behind your eyes as you move in a daze, your super soldier capabilities stopping any sort of pain processing— an emergency response only you survived the experiments to produce. You’ve never been shot at before, contrary to popular belief, but it means that your mind can't keep up with all the emotional surges that come with pain and stressful situations. You’ve barely comprehend that Ghost was outside, too focused on the fact Soap had wrapped you up in his embrace, letting your face rest against his neck whilst he made sure to ease the pressure on your arm. You were still, way too still for someone who had felt every emotion as far as your dulled mind could feel only moments before, breaths so quiet as your eyes glaze over. One hand rests beneath your thighs, keeping you upright whilst the other rubs your back,holding you tight as possible as you try to understand in the slightest what is happening.

————————————-

You wake up in a medical room, or at least you assume it to be by the mostly sterile walls. Drugs contaminate your mind, leaving you in a sleep-induced haze as you blink up at the ceiling. You can only turn your head to the side, noticing the bandages around your arm but there was a strange beeping now, echoing louder and louder. Two nurses enter, each grabbing your wrist and restraining you.

Everything comes back now, the needles the third nurse carries, the blank look in their eyes, the masks they wear over their faces and the scrubs always the same shade of blue. The beeping loudens, your legs kicking wildly as you panic, unable to control the fear.

“Stop- i didn't do anything wrong! I did what I was told!”

You yell, unable to sit there and watch it go in again; you can't bear to watch your own skin be pierced without a single feeling to go alongside it. They draw closer, their eyes gaping holes into nothingness. The intern nurse isn't here to save you, your parents are signing the papers beside your hospital bed and your legs are strapped down, chest so tight you can barely push another breath out until-

Calm, quiet even, a warm hand pats your head. “Hey.. hey..” Your eyes blink open again, Gaz standing before you. It was still late, around 8:30 or 9 pm based on the position of the moon outside the window. It was slightly open, a few bushes outside, and not the best for an easy escape considering it opened inwards. It would’ve been better if—

“Kid?”

You blink up at him again; his hand was steady on your hair and properly rubbing at it now, looking at you with soft eyes. Still, you can't manage a response, only nodding quietly. “You’re safe now, okay?”

Safe. What an odd concept; would you ever really be safe? Have you ever been safe before? The soft beeps of the heart rate monitor pull your view to the side, your bare arms rubbing against the paper-like sheets and making you instantly recoil. Just the mere thought of being on these infirmary beds made you want to throw up, and it didn't help that you could faintly see an old needle in the bin beside the bed, fresh pin pricks on your arms. You were never supposed to have one again.

“Is your heart always like that?” He asks, gesturing to the monitor that you now finally look at, despite it being the first thing that caught your eye. It’s beeping, steadily, in an almost eerie way.

“It hasn't changed once, always a steady beat even when we hadn't bandaged you properly yet.” It makes your gut twist, knowing he sees you as abnormal but you are abnormal so you can't exactly feel that bad about it all.

“Yeah, it is.” You murmur quietly, looking down at the bandage around your arm now, the flimsy outfit that barely covers a thing and the prickly uncomfortable feeling that comes with being so vulnerable. But then again, you’re always vulnerable, it just depends if the person decides to take advantage of it.“I was.. made to be that way. It only goes higher when I'm working out or uh fighting. No other times.”

Gaz blinks at you in a way that makes your throat clog, but his hand is still rubbing your head. Your brain still refuses to comprehend it, afraid he’ll stop if you even think about the matter.

“Kyle. Price wants to talk to ye, i’ll look after ‘em.”

Soap enters the room, as he had introduced himself as in your pained haze a while ago. When was that even? You knew them all anyway— of course you did, who did not know the youngest soldier to join the SAS?

“Aye, you feelin’ any better?” He comes to sit beside your bed as Gaz leaves, a black container held in his hands. You watch as he adjusts the iv drip you hadn’t even noticed before, making sure it’s good on you before sitting back again. “Price wants me to have a little talk with you.” He murmurs, cracking open the lid of the container to reveal steaming food, more specifically the best you’ve ever smelt. It’s no Gordon Ramsay but it’s enough to even make you perk up, the smell of the saucy chicken and the spiced rice—and salad too? It was likely bland anyway, but it sure made your empty stomach rumble.

Regardless, Your mind locks in almost immediately; the food never looks that good, you may aswell take any chance to get a taste. “Why isnt Price here?” You knew better than to question him, but you did anyway, feeling betrayed at the mere thought that he sent his soldier to talk to you rather than himself. Doesn’t he know you’d walk to the ends of the earth to earn his approval?

“Him and Ghost have been.. dealing with your pursuers. Don't worry, they’ll be back.” That eases your head a little bit, but for some strange reason you don't quite believe Ghost would do that at all. Yet still, you were sure to get corrected if you dared to act up and ask again.

“After the medics patched up your wound, they realised you’re well.. malnourished to say the least. You needed an emergency IV drip.” He begins, scooping up a heaped spoon of the food. “We want to know why you haven't been eating— it’s not like there isn't food available.” Your mouth waters at the sight of his spoon; he’s just glad at the fact you look willing to eat rather than forcefully starving yourself. “There’s.. never much food left when i come back..” You start, but he doesn't believe it, staring at you with a raised brow. Even so, he lifts the spoon to your mouth, and you dont argue, chewing it down quickly.

“Aye, y’know ye can just tell the truth righ’ ? If ye do, I'll get ya food like this for the next two weeks. Or perhaps you just prefer hospital food?”

Everyone knows that hospital food is far from appetising, even for you who barely cares about what food goes into your body. But you can’t deny that eating those bland foods brings back memories you absolutely cannot have return right now, because no matter how much they experimented on you, they most definitely couldn’t stop your brain's base function— to remember. Still, it feels strange to speak up now, especially with the way the Scot is staring at you, his eyes a piercing blue and you feel seen, but it’s raw and ugly rather than relief that tingles your nerves.

What good would it even do? It’s not like they’re actually doing something wrong, right? Super soldiers exist to be unbeatable, therefore the notion of them beating or bullying you cannot co-exist with that fact. Unless, you were beatable, unless you did have weaknesses, unless you weren’t actually the prime of human being—

Unless you weren’t a real super soldier.

Soap lets out a sigh, snapping you out of his trance and the disappointed look that's written over his face is enough to resurface every reason relating to why you haven't been eating. Your brain is like a database, and his disappointment is the energy that fuels you to search and retrieve each incident that relates, just like the supersoldier machine they’d made you into. But there’s too many things to say now, and not enough words to convey them. You look up again, realising you’ve been staring at your hands for too long now just to realise he isn't even staring at you in contempt. No, he’s waiting, patiently, and you know this for sure because you can actually read the emotions on his face. With Ghost, everything was a guessing game, pushing your brain so hard to figure out the absolute best way to approach things whilst addressing every emotion you didn't know he was feeling. Sometimes he felt like a super soldier rather than you did.

”Soap?” You say quietly, and he perks up immediately, not expecting you to actually give in it seems, or really talk to him for that matter. “Mhm? Thinking about havin’ some good food?” A small smile slips onto his lips, trying to ease the tension in your body by a smidgen with a teasing tone.

“What if they don’t let me have the food, Soap?.” You admit quietly, repeating his call sign like it strings you back to this reality, keeps you grounded in this scratchy hospital bed. “Whose they?” He asks, his hand reaching out to rest upon your leg, rubbing it over the covers.

“The chefs, the soldiers—I don't know their names. I walk into the mess hall, at the end of lunch, and they tell me that my ‘friends’ have already taken my plate for me.” The words fall out, recounting the daily experience for the past three months, the one you can never change the course of.

“They know that they aren't my friends. They watched as I went to ask them for my plate, and they knew they’d throw it on me.”

Soap’s lips part as he stares back at you, shocked by the audacity of some of these soldiers, but even the chefs? He can understand the first time, they might have actually thought they were, but why continue to give those soldiers your plate if not to torture you?

Hazing was normal in the military, too normal, but it never lasted this long and usually after a superior saw, it got shut down immediately with a firm warning for wasting food and messing around. So why hadn’t Ghost stopped it?

”Why didn't you say anything?!”

Except it came with a slam of the door, the roughness of a voice too familiar, and the heavy boots of a man you feared since you woke. That wasn’t Soap’s words, no. “Lt? I thought you were with Price—“

“Go with Gaz, Johnny.” Your gaze lifts again, the throbbing on your arm almost unbearable or maybe it’s the fear spilling a cold sweat across your body. “You could’ve ruined everything! What the hell are we supposed to tell the superiors, huh? That you almost died over some stupid hazing?!”

Soap glances between you two, taken aback by his Lt’s sharp reaction to the situation, the tone that he’s only used with enemies who have almost brought the country to its knees if not for their task force. It’s not right.

“Lt—“

He doesn't back down, stepping forward to the bed you lay in, walking closer to the point Soap has had to stand up and step back for a moment, confused.

“You better have a damn good reason. All you had to do was speak up once— just say anything! But no; you love to keep your reputation don't you? Is that it? Is that why you never bloody told us?!”

He’s pushed back by an arm across his chest, one that he breaks if not for Soap taking his momentary hesitation to block his path. “Johnny move—“

“Lord, Ghost! Why do you think they don’t want to speak up? Look at their face!”

Ghost’s eyes shift, listening to his sergeant despite the anger that courses through him. Though, when he looks at you he no longer sees the living weapon, the cocky rookie nor the monster the higher ups created. Your eyes are blown wide, just like the soldier that stopped him in his tracks earlier today, and he doesn’t find a hint of anything he used to describe you in your current state or ever to be honest.

No, you’re terrified, looking at him like he’s the monster himself.

—————-

no animals were harmed in the making of this fic

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y’know who gives the best blowjobs? soap and simon.

the pair of them are cheeky and playful when they're paired together.

it was johnny's plan. his idea was to corner you in and overstimulate you until you were reduced to nothing but a shaking, crying mess.

your thighs are forced open with your cock achingly hard, twitching at the sight of both men looming over you. simon's thick fingers grip your cock, leaning over you intimidatingly, his eyes half-lidded and a grin obviously plastered on his face with the way his eyes crinkle. god, you can barely meet his eyes before he grips your chin, tilting your head towards him to maintain eye contact while he jerks you off slowly.

you can feel johnny's lips and warm tongue against your heavy balls. he massages your ballsack while sucking on them, coating them in his drool. he chuckles at the reaction he gets out of you. all johnny wants to see is you begging, pleading with them for permission to come.

for the next couple of hours, you're nothing but their toy to use and play with.

simon will fuck your tight asshole. so unused, with your cock leaking all over your abdomen at the pleasure. you've been dreaming of this, you won't lie. you've been fantasising about the addictive sensation of simon's lengthy dick filling your holes, while johnny slaps his weeping dick against your cheek and orders you to tilt your head back and allow him to use your throat.

you're just a private, nothing in comparison to your sergeant and lieutenant.

your boner throbs and aches at the sudden lack of attention. before, they couldn't keep their hands off of your dick and balls, and now they were neglecting your poor, sore cock. you plead through deep breaths for them to jerk you off, tears rolling down your cheeks slowly with your bottom lip quivering.

“pathetic—so damn greedy, aye? yer’ gettin’ fucked by simon and suckin’ my dick, and yet ye’ still want more? dirty boy.” johnny growls out teasingly. he's so condescending and cruel with his words, he knows exactly how to rile you up.

the taste of johnny's bitter load lingers on your tongue. you choke out a string of incoherent words before you're coming all over yourself uncontrollably, strings of your hot arousal landing against your chest.

“didn’t say you could come, private.” simon grumbles out disappointedly, flipping you onto your stomach. his gloved hand pins your head down while he slaps and rubs his bulbous cock against your ass for a second round.

they'll go at it until you're obedient and know how to behave, until you're sobbing and babbling out an apology, offering your body to them in return for their forgiveness and sympathy.

Fuck it, we ball, I hope that disrespectful anon gets hemorrhoids and they can't get them removed until next year, AND that their insurance doesn't cover it. I'm here thinking about your Omega idea where omegas normally do the pursuing, but with a slight twist; the boys being the omegas. An alpha who is for sure down bad for the boys, but thinks "ah, theyre out of my league, I should be aiming lower, manage my expectations". Only 141 is just as down bad for them, and they're doing everything just short of screaming "PICK UP ON THE HINTS, COME INTO OUR HOUSE AND BEDS AND LIVES AND STAY FOREVER PLEASE"

Johnny is about to say fuck decorum and just show up in reader's house wearing nothing but a ribbon and a tag that says 'free to a good home' (your home is the good one, please keep him, there is no receipt so you can't return him).

Price has the brain cell normally in terms of trying to gently coax you into getting you to say you're into them, he has a 15 step plan that may or may not involve using his various contacts to get you spending more time in close proximity to them. Also he for some reason is always baking, he always comes over asking you for sugar? (He'll take any kind of 'sugar' you're willing to offer, he loves making a variety of cream pies)

Gaz is always gently inviting them to attend 'friend' things, things that could be a date but that he can excuse as 'well we're coworkers/friends/neighbors, we should get along :)'. It's just a coincidence that various other people seem to bail except for any of the other boys, now why don't you sit beside him so you guys can share popcorn at the movies (you both always seem to be reaching for it at the same time, if your fingers touched anymore you might as well be holding hands)

Simon is chasing off any omegas he thinks are a threat to them getting reader, that is THEIR alpha, paws OFF (rip to anyone reader was halfheartedly going on dates with, this man is gonna become those people's sleep paralysis demon)

Hope you enjoy!! :3 💕💕 i lovedddd writing this sm omg

See, the thing is, you’d always thought of yourself as a decent Alpha. Not overbearing, not egotistical, not a demanding freak- just capable and steady. But you weren’t extraordinary. Not the kind of Alpha Omegas like them would look at twice. And so, while you worked alongside the men of Task Force 141 you convinced yourself to be content with just admiring them from a distance.

You couldn’t help it. They were perfect, as far as you were concerned. Perfect, and fully out of your league.

Surely, Omegas like them would want someone better. Someone stronger. You’d told yourself that so many times it was practically your mantra, the only way you’d be able to stop yourself from pursuing them. They deserved someone more charismatic, more confident- an Alpha who could match their brilliance. Not someone like you, fumbling through conversations with them, struggling to keep your feelings in check.

But they’d already decided. They didn’t need a flashy Alpha or someone who tried too hard. What they wanted was you. The only problem? You didn’t seem to realize it, no matter how obvious they made it.

John took the lead, naturally. He knew you were cautious and perhaps a little insecure when it came to relationships (it was fucking visible in you, silly Alpha. He scoffs each time you draw back, frustrated), so he made it his mission to draw you in- slowly and subtly. His plan was meticulous: get you comfortable, build trust, and create opportunities for you to spend more time with them so you’d see that they only want you.

Maybe then you’d break out of that stupid shell you’ve put yourself in.

He’d started baking regularly, a habit you hadn’t even known he had. At least once a week, he’d show up at your place with a tin of cookies, a loaf of fresh bread, or a perfectly golden pie. “Thought I’d share,” he’d say casually, though the slight smirk tugging at his lips told a different story. He peers at you, letting his scent coil just a bit more. “I hope you don’t mind the amount of cream. I happen to like cream pies a lot.”

The way to an Alpha’s heart is through their stomach, and all that.

If he wasn’t offering you baked goods, he was asking for your help to make said baked goods. “Ran out of sugar again,” he’d sigh, handing you an empty container. “Mind sparing a bit?”

It was ridiculous, downright unbelievable how often he supposedly ran out of baking supplies. But his visits became a highlight of your week, and the lingering looks he gave you left your heart pounding long after he was gone.

The one time he’d handfed you, watching you lick the syrup from his fingers with half-lidded eyes, still lives in your mind rent-free.

Kyle took a softer, more personal approach. He wasn’t above using the pretense of friendship to spend time with you, often inviting you to casual dates- grabbing coffee, going to the movies, or just walking through town and shopping. Every invitation was framed innocently, but there was always a little extra effort behind it. He’d pick a movie he knew you’d like, suggest places he knew you’d find interesting, and ensure that others you unfortunately knew joined just enough to make it seem less like a date.

Somehow, though, those other people always mysteriously canceled. It was never anything dramatic- just a sudden cold, a scheduling conflict, or a “something came up, sorry.” Eventually, it would be just you and a very smug Kyle, sitting close enough that your knees brushed or reaching for popcorn at the same time. Once, right as the bowl emptied and you both reached for it, Kyle simply thought fuck it and held your hand.

On one occasion, you both shared a bowl of spaghetti and ended up with the scene from the Lady and the Tramp.

It was so painfully obvious to everyone.

Except you.

“It’s not a coincidence,” Kyle muttered to Johnny one evening after you left, both of them sitting in the spot you were in, bathing in the leftover warmth and scent. “How can they not notice?”

Speaking of Johnny; he’s barely keeping himself together. Subtlety in missions are a must sometimes, but he doesn’t want to that with you anymore. He was just so, so, so frustrated with your obliviousness. What more does he need to do to show you that he- that they- want you?

He’s been dropping so many hints; half-jokes about Omegas waiting begging to be swept off their feet, suggestive winks when you compliment him in that lovely, adoring tone of yours. Once, while watching a romantic tv show, he’d sighed loudly and very pointedly said: “If only someone would claim me.”

“If ye don’t figure it out soon,” he growled at the others one night, pacing back and forth like a wild beast and probably on his way to leave a dent in the carpet, “I’m showin’ up at their doorstep with nothin’ but a red bow, like some bloody Christmas prezzie, I swear to god.”

John sighs, rolling his eyes. “You do that, and I’m leaving you on their porch.”

“That’s exactly what I’m askin’ for!”

Simon took the quietest but most direct approach. Just not exactly direct towards you. While the others worked to get closer to you, Simon focused on eliminating what he saw as obstacles: other Omegas who thought you were free for the taking. It didn’t matter if they were serious or just someone you’d gone on a casual date with- Simon saw them all as threats.

He didn’t have to say much to scare them off. A single cold glare from across the room, sharp bursts of his scent, or a low, menacing comment was usually enough to send them packing. He didn’t care if it was excessive.

You were his Alpha. You were their Alpha, and no one else had a right to you.

But even Simon softened when it came to you. He couldn’t put all his thoughts, all his feelings into words, so he did them with his actions. Quiet protectiveness, gentle, careful touches. Moments of fleeting vulnerabilities shared between you and him.

He was always there for you. Even if you didn’t know you need him with you.

Still, despite all their efforts, you remained convinced that they weren’t interested.

In the end, to no one’s surprise, it’s Johnny who snaps. Johnny, so close to his heat, so absolutely done with your obliviousness and the Omegas that aren’t them talking with you when you should be only focused on them.

He doesn’t care; leaves the carefully made nest with your stolen shirts and none of the others stop him when he just. Drags your surprised self to the nest.

“Johnny! You-“

“I want you.” He hisses, bares his teeth all sharp and desperate. “We want you. And damn it, we will have you.”

And well, who are you to even say no when this is all you have wanted?

I genuinely can’t believe there’s a fic of senshi eating pussy when he’d want HIS pussy eaten

Strong body bent in half, thighs easily parting to allow you access to his cunt, the smell of musk and sweat hitting you as you inch closer to the spot between his legs, laying so close you can see each individual pubic hair poking through the thin clothing he’s wearing, can even taste the salty taste just by looking at the dark spot on the light fabric.

You don’t even bother taking off his underwear as you lap at his cunt and suck his clit, hearing the obscene squelching sound mingling with whines and whimpers that escape his lips, and watching as the thin fabric gets soaked in your spit, before getting practically swallowed by his fat pussy lips.

Thinking about the sweet gasps and squeaks that escape his lips, the way chubby hands aimlessly grasp at the air as you bury your tongue inside him, hips erratically bucking up as you work your tongue into him the way you would with your cock.

Thinking about making him cum over and over, having him flush red from head to toe, thighs practically shaking from overstimulation but refusing to let up his grip on you, forcing you to eat him out til you’re on the verge of passing out.

The Benefits of Being a Marine Biologist (Part 3)

Part 1 - Part 2 Merman x transmasc reader Contains: first kiss with your monster boy crush and then you make out. Extreme communication and consent because that's very sexy Warnings: mentions of arousal Length: 1.7k words

You've lost count of how many days you have visited Abalone. The weeks had turned into a blur of begrudgingly working at the laboratory and wringing out any spare time you could to go to the beach to see him.

Today you were coming to visit with a gift. It was silly, really, but you felt compelled to give him something tangible from the human world. He tries his best not to show it, but you suspect he gets lonely when you don't come to visit.

As you walk down the now well-traveled sand path through the grass, you realize you're feeling nervous. But why? You're just going to give him a gift. That's a completely normal thing to do. And Abalone won't be mean to you if he doesn't like it - his grasp of human socialization is loose at best, so he would just tell you what he thinks of it. You take a deep breath as you exit out of the brush onto the beach.

There he was, as always, in the water framed by the sinking orange sun. You've told him he should be more careful in case someone else saw him, but he always dismisses your worries and says he knows how to hide. For his sake you hope that's true.

You run down to the shore, and Abalone comes to the edge of the water to meet you. As you pause to drop your bag in the sand and kick off your shoes, he pulls himself out onto the sand in the very edge of the waves, propping up his head with his hands to watch you. You walk over to sit next to him in the sand.

"You should be careful, if you get beached I don't think I can haul you back into the water."

Without missing a beat he asks, "What is beached?"

"It's when an animal gets too close to the shoreline and gets stuck in the sand. Like you right now," you tease.

"Oh. I have seen that before. Very bad."

You look around at the tiny beach in disbelief. "What on earth managed to beach itself here?"

"Not here," he answered. "Somewhere else. A long time ago."

"Oh? Where else did you live?"

He didn't reply to you, his mood clearly dampened by thinking about the past.

"Nevermind about that. I brought you something! A human trinket for you to keep."

Abalone perked up and looked at you eagerly. "Ooo! Show me!"

Taking a small pouch from your pocket, you explained to him, "Now, this is supposed to be waterproof, so it won't rust. I went into town thinking of something to get for you, and I thought this was pretty perfect."

You take the silver necklace out of its silky bag. Holding it out for him to see, you say, "It's an abalone shell pendant! Because that's your name." You laugh nervously. "It's okay if you don't actually like jewelry, I just thought it would be nice to give you something."

Abalone stared at the necklace silently, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest. Did he really hate it? Had you somehow offended him?

Something changed in his expression. You couldn't quite place it at first, but you quickly realized it was that his cheeks were darkening. He was blushing.

"I… um…" He tried to say something to you, but his voice caught in his throat.

"I'm sorry!" you exclaim, instinctively shifting away from him and clutching the necklace to your chest. "I didn't mean to upset you or anything, I just wanted to do something nice-"

"No, not that," he cut you off. He hid his face in his hands as he said, "For us something like that is asking for courtship."

Oh no. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to- I didn't mean to do anything like that! I'm sorry Abalone, I've made you uncomfortable, haven't I?"

He looked at you with one eye peeking out from between his fingers. "No, it's fine. It is just that… no one would do that for me. Not for real."

He looked so sad, and something came over you. Without thinking you leaned toward him and put a hand over his own on his face. "Why would you think that? You're perfectly lovely."

He didn't move, but he didn't resist your touch either. "There are reasons."

"You don't have to talk about it. It's okay." Your mouth moving faster than your mind, you continued, "Maybe it doesn't mean as much coming from a human, but I do like you a lot. You're funny and sweet and you would never let me get anywhere close to drowning on your watch."

He moved his hands down from his eyes to look at you. "You mean it?"

"Yes." You took his hands into yours and looked into his dark eyes. "What if I do mean it?"

He looked at you blankly as you realized what you had just said. Feeling your own face flushing, you turned and picked up the necklace from where you had dropped it in the sand.

One hand in his, the other holding out your gift, you ask again quietly, "What if I do mean it?"

"… You do?" He whispered, as if afraid to break the quiet tension.

Moving slowly with hesitation, Abalone sat upright in the sand, his tail trailing off into the water. You leaned closer to him, and he gently pulled you toward himself with your hand that he still held. Tentatively leaning in toward each other, your lips meet his. You tasted salt as he slowly pulls away from you.

You look at each other silently, frozen with nervousness. With his sleek body so close to yours, you couldn't deny it any more. Abalone wasn't only an object of your curiosity.

He breaks the silence. "Was that all right?"

You smile at his slight misuse of the word. "Yes," you reply breathlessly. "Definitely."

You lean forward and kiss him again. This time he doesn't move away. He gently puts his arms around you as your lips meet again. And again. Despite his large size, he touches you so softly. His sharp teeth graze your lips.

Without breaking your embrace, you pull yourself onto his lap. You put your arms around his neck and your hands in his hair, and he hugs you to himself a bit tighter. "So pretty," he mumbles when his mouth parts from yours. "Pretty human boy."

Abalone kisses you deeper, his hands on your waist now. You wonder how long he has been waiting for this. How long you have wanted this.

You feel his tongue on your bottom lip, and you can't help but pull away from him giggling. Seeing him frown and his big sad eyes, you quickly say, "I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at you, I promise. Do you have a forked tongue?"

"What?"

"Like is it split down the middle?"

"Maybe?" He stuck out his tongue a bit to show you. It was a darker gray like his hands and tail, and it was indeed forked.

"It is! Like a lizard," you laugh. "See, this is what I'm used to." Your demonstration of a human tongue seemed to amused him.

Abalone pressed his forehead against yours as you mindlessly played with his hair. "Is this bad? For you and me to…" he trailed off.

"I don't think so," you answer quietly. "And maybe, even if it is, I don't care."

Seemingly satisfied with that thought, he gently began kissing you again. Slowly he kissed harder, and you leaned into the pressure. Your hands gripped the hair at the nape of his neck, and his claws poked into your back.

When you were pressed into him nearly as hard as you could be, Abalone carefully flipped you over and laid you down on the sand. Your mind went blank at the sight of him above you, his damp skin glowing in the dying light.

He bent down and continued to kiss you, his mouth trailing down your neck. You felt his teeth on your skin and you gasped quietly. He was giving you gentle love bites, careful not to break the skin but the pinpricks still made you dizzy. His tail was between your legs and you felt his hips pressing into yours. You held his neck and shoulders tighter as your back arched to meet his touch. It didn't take long for you to become hard and wet.

His frantic pace of kisses and bites gradually slowed until he gave you one final kiss on your lips and laid down on top of you, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

"Was that too much?" He shyly mumbled into your shoulder.

You struggle to find your voice again. "… No, not at all."

He flopped over to lie in the sand next to you, hugging his arms to himself and avoiding your gaze. But he does turn to look at you when you quietly say his name.

"That was wonderful." You reach over to take his hand. "Maybe we can do it again?"

He blushed furiously at that, but didn't look away from you. "Yes, maybe." He held up the necklace from wherever the fuck it had ended up in the sand. "Can you help with this?"

You laugh and pull him to sit up with you. You undo the clasp and instruct him how to hold his hair out of the way. Reaching around his neck, you lock your gift in place.

Smiling sweetly, Abalone touched the pendant on his chest. "Thank you."

Wishing you could stay for the rest of the night, you sighed dramatically. "The sun is almost fully down. I really should go now."

He nodded and tilted his head, silently posing the regular question.

"I can come back tomorrow night! And since tomorrow is Friday, I don't have to worry so much about going home."

He grinned at you brightly. "Tomorrow. I have things to do, then." And with that, he slipped back into the shallows to swim away. A flick of his tail splashed you with seawater, and with that he was gone.

You didn't know whether to be excited or worried by his final words. Gathering your things and beginning the trek home, you figured you'd have to wait and see.

AN: thank you all for your patience while I took like two months to finish writing this! I plan for part 4 to be the final part, and it will probably be very long and very explicit :3 Thank you for reading as always xoxo Tip Jar on Ko-Fi (requests/commissions coming soon??)

*Feral noises*

I need more Price and sidechick!! (Also, it was amazing) -🐻✨

IM GLAD YOU LIKE IT ANON 🐻✨>O< THIS TOOK A WHILE IM SORRY, but here you go..!

part 1/3 of Sugardaddy!Price where you're just his sidechick.. 😔

or are you? *vsauce theme playing*

thanks to auntie @ahobaka-trash for beta <3

Pairing : Price x Gaz x f!Reader, implied poly141 x f!reader tw : oral sex (m receiving), foot job, dubcon, infidelity (or is it?), workplace harassment, praise kink, daddy kink word count : 6731 rated : E AO3

Between Him and Him

The night was full of passion, where pleasure was shared with every touch. Fingers intertwined on the sheet, squeezing with every collision of his hips against yours. His beard rubbed against your skin as his lips left a trail of marks down your neck. Rough fingers oh so skillfully working their magic, placed between your thighs to dance on your clit, rubbing, circling, pinching-

You shook your head and sighed shakily, scolding yourself in your head. This was no time and place to remember that. Your hands tapped your cheeks which felt warm to the touch, before looking around, hoping there were no mind-readers present.

You almost jolted when perfectly manicured nails tapped against your desk, sharp and deliberate. You looked up to find your boss’s wife staring down at you, her expression taut with barely contained anger. Swallowing hard, you quickly stood—while instinctively making yourself seem smaller in her presence. Stammering out an apology, you braced yourself as she launched into a scathing lecture on workplace etiquette.

Used to it by now, you only looked down at your heels and listened. From the very first day you started working as her husband’s secretary, she had always been hostile towards you. You never understood why until one day you overheard her accusing your boss of cheating on her with you.

You almost laughed at the time. As if you'd do something like that.

But now, an image of John Price flashed in your head. His smile, his touches.

The ring on his finger.

"Are you even listening!?" You snapped out of your thoughts at the sharp tone. 

"Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry.." You murmured, fingers twitching as you held back from fidgeting with your skirt.

After enduring another round of berating, you sighed in relief when you saw your boss finally emerge from his office and beckoning his wife over.

You watched as she made a public claim of her husband, kissing his cheek before clinging to his arm as they both disappeared behind the door. You saw a glimpse of her smug smirk before the door was fully closed.

You snorted.

A pause.

Then your shoulders sagged.

As you sank back into your seat, your mind raced with the thought of a similar scenario—but this time, it was John's wife who stood in her place.

Just then, your phone buzzed. As if he was summoned by your thoughts, his name appeared on the screen.

Despite getting an earful about work ethics previously, you answered the call and cradled your phone between your shoulder and ear. "Hello?"

"Hi darling, I hope I'm not bothering you" His deep voice rumbled, sending a shiver down your spine which made you feel ashamed for having such a reaction just from his voice alone.

"No sir" You responded, acting like you were taking a work-related call as your eyes focused on the documents you needed to proofread.

You heard John’s low chuckle and instinctively squeezed your thighs under the desk. "You're off work at 6 like usual?" He asked, to which you responded with a nod.

It took you a second to remember that he couldn't see you. Wow, even without him being physically present, he was still able to make you dumb.

"Yes, sir, 6.00 pm" You finally answered.

"Good" He purred. "I'll pick you up later, yeah?" He added.

"Um- ok-" you didn't manage to finish your sentence before he started speaking again. "From work, not your place"

At his words, you found yourself frowning. “Um- what do you mean?” You asked.

He never picked you up from work, you prefer that he come to your house anyway. So you’d have time to retouch your makeup and change into a more suitable outfit for the date. You didn’t like being to go out unprepared, he knew that.

“I’m taking you to my house” You heard him say.

..What?

He never took you to his place before, and you assumed it was because of the missus.

..Is this like one of those porno where he fantasized about fucking his mistress in the space he shared with his partner?

You should feel disgusted, really.. you should stop interacting with him, block him, ghost him, avoid him at all costs.

But your body betrayed that thought as you felt the heat simmering below your belly. Your face heated up in embarrassment. Ashamed.

Well, at least you were still capable of feeling shame.

“I want you to meet someone” John continued like he could read your mind.

Oh.

He probably wanted to introduce you to his wife so she could see for herself—that you were just a friend, or something, nothing more. A way to earn her trust, to ease her worries about suspicion of infidelity. You wondered if she had grown suspicious, which made him come up with such an idea.

If so, agreeing to this made you more of a bad person than you already were.

“..Okay” You responded against your better judgment.

Before he could speak again, you remembered something and spoke up again. “And oh- John..” You purred softly with the tone you used whenever you wanted something. He seemed to understand it immediately with how he let out an amused chuckle.

“Got it darling, checking out everything in your cart right away.” He uttered firmly, like a soldier following an order.

You felt giddy for being able to get a man like him wrapped around your finger.

Talked too soon.

“I’m expecting the payment first, love.. talk to you later,” He murmured seductively before hanging up.

You could only sigh and smile, and if anyone was looking at you right now, they could see red flushing your cheeks.

Looking around, you made sure no one was actually looking at you before you lifted your phone for a selfie to send him as the payment, snapping multiple pictures with the same pose and slightly different angles. You made sure the camera caught your cleavage that peeked out from your blouse, knowing how he often showed favoritism to your tits even though he worshipped every curve of your body.

You always noticed the way his pupils dilated whenever you wrapped your hands around his arm and made it rest between your breasts, the way he would casually cop a feel of your boob during cuddles, playing with them in a way that made you think you could cum from him fondling your breasts alone, the scratch of his beard as his groans were muffled when he buried his nose between the mounds, big hands squeezing them together like he wanted to suffocate himself with them, how he always need to have them in his hands whenever he pounded into you-

You let out an embarrassing yelp when you feel someone tap your shoulder.

A familiar chuckle was heard which made you look up, feeling a tad bit disappointed to see your boss instead of a certain someone who had been living in your head rent-free.

“Are you okay? Called your name a  few times there.” He said with a head tilt and that signature smirk.

“Yes sir, I’m sorry.. I was  just thinking..” You stuttered, looking down in remorse. You felt your cheeks warming up, hoping that he didn’t notice the look on your face when you were previously lost in such thoughts.

You felt his hand linger on your shoulder before he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. The office light caught the glint of his wedding ring as he pulled his hand away.

He seemed to notice you glancing at it from how his lips curled in a crooked smirk. “She already left, don’t worry.” He said, amused that you didn’t seem to notice that either.

Suddenly, you understood why his wife was wary of you.

“Um, what do you need me for, sir?” You asked, trying to keep professional despite the disgust you feel. Something you never felt when you were with John, even though the older man held the same relationship status.

“The meeting,” His head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing in something close to amusement. "You were supposed to remind me, I was  waiting for you."

Your stomach dropped.

Heart racing, you clicked open his schedule, scanning the time. Five minutes.

Shit.

You cursed John in your head for leaving you unable to focus properly on your job.

You stood up so quickly your chair scraped against the floor. "I’m so sorry, sir. I lost track of time—"

"I noticed."

You could feel the heat creeping up your neck. He didn’t look upset—if anything, he seemed entirely too entertained by your flustered reaction.

"It won’t happen again," you promised, already gathering your tablet and notes.

His gaze flickered over you—calm, assessing, just a little too lingering. Then, "Relax." A faint smirk. "I figured you were busy. That’s why I came looking for you."

Part of you wondered if he had waited in his office for something else to happen if you had come to him.

"Let’s go," he said, stepping aside for you to walk first.

As you did, you swore you could feel his gaze on you, feel the weight of his gaze on your ass. You held back from tugging your skirt down.

Seriously, what’s with you and married men recently..

The day went on in a drag. Usually, you had no problem zoning out as your body moved on it’s own, slipping into the routine of your job. When time slipped away from you, swallowed by emails, reports, and an endless to-do list.

But today was different. Ever since you noticed how your boss sees you in a way that he shouldn’t, you became more aware of everything. The way he purposefully brushed his hand with yours when you handed him something, how he placed his hand at the small of your back, how he not so subtly peeked down the collar of your blouse.

How come you never noticed it before?

It made you uncomfortable, overshadowing your previous anxiety at the thought of John taking you to his house.

His house, the place he lived in, with his spouse.

Come  to think of it, both situations were practically the same.

Even so, you’d rather be with John than anyone else.

You resisted letting out a sigh of relief as the clock finally hit 6 PM. Heels clacked against the pristine floor as you fast-walked back to your desk, swiftly tidying everything up.

“Need a ride?” You froze when you turned around, almost bumping into your boss looking down at you.

“Um- no sir, thank you” You responded quickly before sidestepping to walk past him.

His hand caught your arm, pulling you back towards him before smoothly slipping around your shoulders. “Come on, it’s almost getting dark out, not safe for someone like you to be out alone” He said before dragging you away to the exit.

Your stomach twisted. Refusing him outright felt impossible—he was your boss, after all. Powerful. Untouchable. And if he took offense… your job wasn’t exactly secure.

“Sir, please.. i already-” You tried to plead but then a familiar voice called out your name.

The deep, gravely voice cut through the thick tension like a knife.

As you turned your head to look, and you relaxed as the familiar figure stepped closer. John. He was dressed casually—jeans and a fitted jacket—but his stance was firm, his expression calm but unwavering.

You bit your bottom lip, God he’s so-

Your boss’s jaw tensed. “And you are?”

John barely spared him a glance. “Her boyfriend,” he said smoothly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. His tone was casual, but there was an edge to it—subtle, dangerous. 

Blue eyes shifted to you, like he was expecting you to move to his side. So you did.

A strong arm slid around your waist.

Your heart hammered, but you nodded quickly. “Right. He’s, uh, here to pick me up.”

Your boss smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He then looked between the two of you, assessing. Eyes lingered at the ring on John’s finger, the corner of his lips twitched knowingly before he exhaled a low chuckle. “I see. Well, drive safe.”

John didn’t wait until your boss left, couldn’t care less for the retreating footsteps as he focused on you. His fingers gently held your chin, guiding your gaze away from your boss and onto him.

“You alright, luv?” he asked quietly.

You were still shaken, hands trembling as you felt your heart thumping up to your throat. You were not alright, but you nodded anyway.

He glanced down at you, giving you a once-over like he didn’t buy your response. He always had a way of reading you, picking up on what you felt without you ever needing to say a word. So he knew better than to push. With a small tilt of his head, he simply murmured. “Let's go then”

The ride to his house was quiet, safe for the soft hum of whatever was playing on the radio. Outside, the night sky loomed dark, concealing the clouds that had silently gathered. Eventually, raindrops tapped gently against the car window, their rhythmic pitter-patter lulling you into a fragile sense of ease. For a while, the silence felt almost comforting—until he finally spoke.

“How long has that been going on?” His voice was low, gentle, yet beneath it lingered an unmistakable edge. His protectiveness slipped through the cracks.

It took you a while to process his words, couldn’t think with his musk penetrating your nostrils, the warmth of his hand which rested on your thigh at the hem of your skirt, his thumb drawing small circles on your soft skin.

“I-i think.. it’s been a while” You stuttered meekly.

He scoffed. “You think?” he tutted, scolding in a playful manner. His grip on your thigh tightened briefly before easing, his thumb resuming its slow, deliberate caress.

“I-i never really paid attention..” You responded quietly, cursing your own stupidity in your head. Come to think of it, you should’ve noticed since the beginning. From the way your boss looked at you, to how his wife took a dislike in you. Yet, you’ve always brushed it off, and now you were left to face the consequences with how bold he’d become. 

“Quit your job,” He said. A demand uttered in a calm tone that was edged with steel. It carried the weight of authority, leaving no room for argument.

“W-what? i can’t just-” You cut yourself short when his blue eyes shifted to you, pinning you on the spot.

“I've told you already, you don’t need to work when you have me, sweetheart,” He said in a softer tone, the words uttered were soothing. His hand slipped higher beneath your skirt, fingertips grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

Well… he wasn’t wrong. He was your sugar daddy, after all. Whatever you wanted or needed, he’d provide—whether you asked for it or not. As he had been nothing less than that ever since you met him. And would continue to provide as long as you kept being his good girl. You could trust everything with him, right?

The moonlight caught the gleam of his ring, a fleeting glint in the corner of your eye.

No.

You were smart enough to not put any hope to a married man. Didn’t want to face the reality of him choosing between you and his spouse one day. You could endure everything for now, content with receiving his attention and money even though you knew it was wrong. You couldn’t help it, when somewhere along the way, you’d unintentionally started to have feelings for him.

Looking away with a pout, you responded “I’ve only worked there for three months.. it would be bad for my CV-” Your words faltered, lost in a sharp inhale as his finger went further up to trace along the edge of your panties beneath your skirt.

“Don’t test me, doll” The rumble in his tone sent a shiver down your spine.

You exhale shakily, cheeks flushed red, ashamed of your own reaction.

“A-alright, i’ll think about it..” You responded, with a voice that was too high and more shaky than you would’ve liked.

He hummed, fingertips moving to the front before squeezing your clothed clit gently between two digits. “Try again, baby”.

A whimper slipped from your lips as your thighs instinctively squeezed shut, only to draw a breathy moan when the movement only made the sensation worsen for the better.

“Y-yes, daddy..” You breathed out pathetically.

“Good girl” he responded, his eyes were now focused on the road. Though, his hand stayed between your legs.

You didn’t know what to expect when the front door opened. Maybe a sweet lady who would make you feel guilty for being a homewrecker. Or a weary, hollow-eyed woman who had long since stopped loving her husband. Perhaps even a striking, glamorous beauty—someone who only married him for the money.

Well, you certainly didn't expect to see the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. He looked like he just walked out of a Vogue magazine cover.

Broad shoulders, a solid chest, and arms that looked like they could hold the weight of the world without breaking a sweat. Defined muscles, sculpted but not exaggerated, hint at power without intimidation. His skin was a warm, rich brown, smooth and sun-kissed, complementing the deep chocolate of his eyes. But it was his smile—soft, warm, teasing—that made him truly ethereal.

His gaze rested at you tenderly while you stood there, gaping like an idiot.

“You must be..” He uttered, followed by your name, his voice smooth as silk, wrapping around each syllable like a slow, deliberate caress

Damn, even his voice was sinful.

Why the fuck did John cheat on him.

“Yes, um.. that's me, yeah.” You responded dumbly, blushing even harder when you heard him and John chuckle.

What should you introduce yourself as? John didn't rehearse anything with you-

“John told me a lot about you,” He said before you could break down and tell him everything about how you had been sleeping with his husband.

“I’m Kyle, by the way” he added, extending his hand for you to shake.

You shook his hand and hoped that your palm wasn't as sweaty as you thought it was.

He didn't let go until you did. And when he did, his touch lingered.

Or perhaps it was just in your head.

The light above caught a glint of the ring on his finger. A ring similar to John’s.

You shifted your gaze away from it.

“Come in, then,” Kyle said as he stepped aside.

As you walked through the door, you saw John kissed him tenderly out of the corner of your eyes. You chose to focus on admiring the interior of the house, looking anywhere but at them.

The atmosphere inside was calm, steady, a quiet sanctuary from the rest of the world. It wasn’t extravagant or overly decorated, but it still felt homey.

Made you feel like an intruder.

“John said you like pasta,” You sensed Kyle’s presence beside you which took you by surprise. His hand was placed at the small of your back as he escorted you to the kitchen.

The touch felt more intimate than it should. But you were too confused by everything to think much of it.

The dining table was set with effortless charm, set with care but without unnecessary formality. Multiple plates of steaming truffle pasta were arranged neatly; the rich, earthy aroma wafting through the air.

You were still trying to figure out what was happening. For what reason did John invite you here, what kind of stuff had he told his husband about you.

From what you were seeing, you could assume that this was a casual dinner. It also seemed that John had been talking about you to Kyle a lot, but why? Wouldn't it make Kyle suspicious? Maybe that was why John invited you over, to get Kyle to lower his guard by knowing you, your previous theory might be correct. But the way Kyle acted towards you was odd, there was no hint of jealousy in his eyes. If anything, he greeted you way too nicely than he should-

Everything was too confusing, you should just stop thinking.

“Oh- sorry, i didn't bring anything-” You replied as you looked up at Kyle with wide eyes.

Kyle exhaled an amused chuckle as he pulled out a chair for you to sit. “Why do you need to bring anything?” He responded with a teasing tone.

“Well.. um.. to be polite..?” You said after you sat, voice becoming quieter at the end of your sentence. Two pairs of eyes locked onto you, making you fidget in your seat.

“Cute.” Kyle simply said with a smile.

John smiled and reached out to caress your legs beneath the table as a gesture to calm you down.

A simple touch that sent heat rushing through you, the impropriety of doing it discreetly in front of his husband only making it more titillating.

You chose to shift your focus to the plate in front of you as you tried to keep calm, playing the role of a ‘friend’ or whatever John had told Kyle about you.

The dinner went better than you thought it would. At least on the surface, with how the two men seemed to be treating you kindly, even if on the inside, you felt like a sinner at the church.

You expected Kyle to ask more about you, but that didn't happen. It was like he knew about you already, asking you about your job and things that had been going on in your life like he was catching up with some old friend instead of talking with his husband’s mistress, even though he probably didn't know about that. 

But even with how welcoming Kyle was, and how John was kind to you like he usually was, you still felt like an outsider. You couldn't help but notice how John always reached out to touch Kyle, whether to pass something or just a gesture he did when he talked. While Kyle looked at John like he hung the moon, smiling with each word uttered by the older man.

They made sure to include you in the conversation, but you couldn't help but be reminded of your position.

They were married, bound together by vows, the promise of forever, witnessed by the weight of rings on each other's fingers. 

While you were..

A temporary pleasure, a pretty thing to warm John’s bed. A secret folded between late-night pleasure and stolen hours, never meant to see the light of day. He whispered sweet nothings, traced promises on your skin with the same lips that uttered his wedding vows.

You knew it, deep down. You were excited, the rush of something forbidden, the fire that burned bright but was never meant to last.

Then, your mind reeled back to the questions you had in your head ever since John said he wanted to invite you over. You still weren't sure of the reason, as you could only assume.

What was his reason? Was it really to convince Kyle that you were nothing to worry about? Or was it to show you that you were truly nothing to him.

Kyle laughed at a particularly awful dad joke John made, while you sat there in silence, lost in the whirlwind of thoughts crowding your mind.

Thoughts that gave you a headache.

And heartache.

You weren’t possessive of John like he was with you. But you were jealous—not of Kyle, but of what they had. Pushing aside John’s infidelity, you longed for what you were seeing right now.

Your eyes drifted to the rings on their fingers, and felt the lack of weight on your own.

You were a nobody.

“Sorry, i need to use the bathroom,” You stood up a bit too quickly, causing the chair to scrape against the floor with a sharp noise.

You winced. Both at the sound, and the way your heart clenched. No, don't cry. Not right now. Not in front of them.

“Come, i’ll show you where it is,” Kyle replied with a kind smile that sent a pang to your heart.

“I’ll clean these up,” John said as he stood and collected the dishes. He then walked around to give Kyle a peck on his lips before he headed to the kitchen.

With barely a glance towards you.

It was for the better, you thought. So his husband wouldn't suspect a thing, so you wouldn't get your hopes up.

“This way,” You heard Kyle say, standing nearby as he gestured to the hallway.

You could only smile and nod in response before you headed your way.

Lost in your thoughts, about what would happen after, what should happen after. 

Should you put an end to this? Stop wrecking the happiness you just witnessed from the sidelines. The rational part of you said, yeah. But your heart was already attached to John.

Thought after thought occupied your mind as you walked down the hall and into the bathroom before heading for the sink to clear your mind.

Too lost in your head to notice footsteps following you from behind.

A presence followed you in, locking the door behind.

At the sound of the click, you looked up, only to catch Kyle's reflection in the mirror as he approached from behind.

Strong arms wrapped around your waist, chin on your shoulder with his cheek pressing against yours. 

And you froze, couldn't speak, stopped thinking.

“What’s with the pout?” He cooed with a disarming smile that made his eyes squint. His hand reached up to tug on your lower lip with his thumb.

“W-what?” You managed to break out of your shock with an embarrassing squeak.

His chest rumbled against your back as he chuckled in response.

“I was hoping to see this cute smile in person,” He continued as he pulled out a phone from his pants, showing you the pictures you took this morning, an innocent selfie–safe for the cleavage peeking out the collar of your blouse. The one you sent John.

That phone.. John’s phone.

You felt your heart drop, colors drained from your face.

“..You knew” you stammered.

And before he could say anything, you started to blabber. “I-i’m sorry.. sorry i’m- i know i shouldn't- i know it’s wrong”.

Your eyes teared up as the grip around your waist tightened. And you were reminded that the person behind you was a strong man who could snap you in half if he wanted to.

“Hey.. ssh..” his voice was soothing you as he turned you around, one hand rested on the sink beside you as the other went up to wipe your tears.

No hint of anger in his tone, just a tinge of amusement.

A thumb pressed against your lips to stop you from apologizing. “You're sorry..?” He asked with a tilt of his head, smirk on his lips.

You nodded shakily, holding back a whimper when he leaned closer.

Firm lips pressing against your trembling one, his hand cupped your cheek to keep you still. Not that it was needed with the way you froze.

Eyes wide as you could only stand there and let him savor your lips.

It was gentle, soft, almost.. sweet. Yet, you were left breathless when he broke the kiss.

He didn't back off all the way, pressing his nose against yours. His warm gaze locked onto you as he slowly licked his lips, savoring the lingering taste of you.

And your eyes couldn't help but follow the movement of his tongue.

Whatever thoughts that bothered you before were now thrown out of the window.

“Hmm.. prove it then,” he purred, warm breath caressed your lips as the timbre of his voice went straight to your core.

Your cheeks felt too warm for your liking. “..What?”.

His hand went down, but your eyes stayed locked to his. Even when you heard the familiar smooth whirr of metal teeth separating, accompanied by a faint rasp of fabric shifting.

“I said prove it, baby,” he murmured as he pulled back only to push you down on your knees by your shoulder.

One hand caressed your cheek, while the other held the base of his hardening cock in front of you, tapping the tip against your lips.

You jolted instinctively. Wet lashes fluttered as your doe eyes widened, looking up to meet his. That same charming smile from when he first greeted you lingered on his lips—but now, it carried a different weight. His pupils, blown wide with something else, sent a message that made you hold your breath.

“I’d call John over, but I'd rather have you to myself right now,” he purred as he pressed the tip of his cock between your lips, rubbing but not pushing any further.

..What is going on?

John would definitely notice both of your prolonged absences, he would eventually search for you- for Kyle-

This is wrong on so many levels, being in this position with your.. sugar-daddy’s husband, someone who should have despised you when he found out about your status as the mistress.

Push him away. Your conscience whispered.

But.. 

You had already become a willing participant in something scandalous from the moment you met John. Did you even have the right to weigh morality now, when the lines between right and wrong had long since blurred?

And who were you to refuse a command from such a fine man standing before you?

Your doe-like eyes trailed up his figure, taking in the lean muscles wrapped in a tight shirt, the faint happy trail leading downward, the sharp cut of his jaw, and that devilish smile playing at his lips.

Saliva pooled in your mouth, a drop slipped out the side and dripped down your chin as you parted your lips to suckle on the tip of his cock shyly.

“I know you could do better than that..” he murmured. Fingers pressed against your jaw, thumb and forefinger applying just enough pressure to part your lips. A slow, deliberate motion—prying them open with ease.

A soft moan escaped your lips as he eased in, inch by inch, stretching the warmth of your mouth.

He was gentle, pushing but not forcing. Giving you an illusion of control when you both knew who was truly in charge. Contrasting with John, who always made it clear from the start that he would break you apart, but also familiar in a way that they both intended to make a mess out of you.

Oh god.. John.

He was outside this bathroom, probably somewhere nearby. It should scared you, the fact that he might come knocking at the door only to find his side chick sucking on his husband's dick.

But..

You were too occupied to worry about that right now.

“That’s it.. good girl..” He cooed when you were an inch away from taking all of him. The praise sent a slow, simmering heat, curling deep in your core, you could feel yourself being embarrassingly wet just from having his cock in your mouth.

His fingers caressed your cheek down to your jaw, a small gesture of commendation that made you long for more. Wanted him to tell you how good you were for him, to have those long fingers caress your scalp as you pleasure him.

So you loosened your jaw further, letting your throat relax before pushing forward until your nose was nestled against the neatly trimmed curls at the base.

You preened when you heard him groan.

“Attagirl baby..” he rasped as he patted your head, an innocent gesture that made you shiver.

You wanted more of that, wanted him to praise you more, to be a good girl for him so he would reward you. 

His hand rested atop your head—not gripping, pulling, or pushing. A silent command lingered in the touch, a wordless expectation for you to do your job while he watched.

And you obeyed.

Slurping up the precum and saliva that slicked his length, your tongue glided along each pulsing vein, tracing every ridge as you slowly pulled back. When you withdrew, you extended your tongue further, the pointed tip teasing over his frenulum with deliberate precision. Wide, doe-like eyes gazed up at him, making you look so utterly docile—obedient and eager to please, silently pleading for more praise.

And it was so nice of him to give it to you.

“Look at you, so pretty taking my cock like that.. you’re enjoying this, aren’t you? don’t worry baby, i’ll give you more.. just keep going.. oh.. that’s it..” He kept uttering praises that made you moan softly around his cock.

Leaning back in, your eyes fluttered to a shut as you focused entirely on his pleasure—willing to give your all if it meant earning more of those sweet praises.

But then, he gripped your hair and tugged you away, making you let go of him with a lewd pop as you whined.

“None of that, baby. Keep those pretty eyes open,” He scolded. His tone was gentle, yet the commanding words made you instinctively straighten your spine, nodding in quiet obedience.

He smiled before loosening his grip and let you continue.

With his words in mind, you kept your gaze locked onto his, never looking away as you worked to please him with your mouth.

Slurping, sucking, licking, swallow. Memorizing each twitch and breath, making  mental note of any precise movements that pulled those deep, satisfied groans from his lips.

Relishing every praise uttered between the sound of pleasure.

Soon enough, you quickened your pace, bobbing your head fast the moment you felt him twitch. Desperate to coax him over the edge and feel him shooting his load down your throat.

With every nudge of his cock against the back of your throat, your pussy clenched. And you shifted on your knees, pressing your thighs together in a desperate attempt to quell the heat simmering between them.

And how kind of him to notice—even more so when he lifted his leg, tilting his ankle just enough to press the arch of his foot firmly against your aching heat.

An embarrassing whine muffled by his cock as he moved his foot side to side, rubbing your sensitive clit. Your eyes rolled back when he pressed his foot further up to press against your cunt before dragging it back and forth. Giving you a slow, torturous sensation that got you dripping.

Hands gripped his pants as your hips rolled against the slope of his foot to chase the pleasure.

It was embarrassing, to get yourself off of someone’s foot. But you were desperate, squeezing your legs together to trap him there as you continued to grind. Pathetic whines and moans slipped from your lips every time your clit caught on your underwear, or when you ground your hips down just right.

But then, he pulled his foot away and you almost sobbed at the sudden loss.

“Ah ah, don’t get distracted..” He tutted, hand reaching up to push your hair out of your face before trailing down to your lips which were still wrapped around his cock.

You bat your eyelashes at him, a pitiful muffled whimper slipped past your lips in a feeble attempt at an apology. Feeling sorry for getting temporarily lost in chasing your own pleasure that you forgot about his.

His smile widened in response as he trailed his fingers down to your jaw, a gesture that commanded you to continue the previous ministration.

As you started moving your head again, he put his foot back between your legs to rub against your clothed cunt.

With your hips grinding down at the same pace as your head, you tried your best to split your focus. But it was getting harder and harder with how he moved his foot like so- rubbing and pressing your clit as the slope dragged itself back and forth against your throbbing pussy, teasing between your folds.

You worked your mouth on him as you kept trying to build up the heat that intensified in your core. Doing both simultaneously as you were afraid he might rip the sensation away if you didn't satisfy him enough, just like before.

“You close yet, baby?” His voice purred as he moved his foot against you some more.

A squeak escaped your lips as a thrill shot up your spine. Your nails dug into his hips as you ground your pussy against him, hard.

And then you felt him moving his foot to the side, tugging the edge of your panties to push it aside before grinding directly against your bare cunt. Then, you felt the tip of his toes pressing against the entrance which became the final push that sent you over the edge.

You moaned wantonly around his cock as your legs buckled. Gasping through your nose as you struggled to breathe with him deep in your throat. Unable to keep up with the waves of pleasure that hit you.

A distant echo of Kyle’s voice was heard behind the blood rushing through your ears.

“That's it..” He praised.

You slurped around his cock as you kept moving your head.

“Making a mess of yourself..” he continued in a seductive whisper.

You swallowed with him deep in your throat, making him twitch as he groaned.

“Good fucking girl..” He grunted as he put one hand against your throat, cradling in a way like you were nothing more than submissive.

Spit inevitably coated the underside of your chin, lining the ridges of your throat.

Then, his head hung back, relishing the sensation as he teetered over the edge. His cock throbbed with the intense release, shooting thick ropes of white down your throat.

Tears welled at the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision as they clung to your lashes. But you couldn't pull away with his hand keeping your head still, making you take every drop of his cum.

“Take it all, doll.. but don't swallow,” he commanded with that smooth voice of his, which was way more soothing than it should be.

And you obeyed.

Pliant when he finally pulled your head back until his softening cock slipped out your lips with a wet, obscene pop.

You let him tilt your head up before prying your mouth open. Your gaze, glazed and unfocused as he drank in your wrecked state.

On your knees, basking in the afterglow after getting off on a man’s foot, saliva and cum trailing down your chin.

Then, he spit into your mouth.

“Swallow”.

And just like before, you obeyed.

If you didn't feel dirty being his husband's mistress, you sure did now.

Again, what's with you and married men recently.

The door clicked shut, his lips curling into a satisfied smile.

Kyle couldn't help but chuckle at the fresh memory of your face in his mind. And while he wanted nothing more than to be by your side, you wouldn't let him.

And since he was in a good mood (thanks to you), he decided to indulge, letting you be when he noticed how flustered you were—too overwhelmed to bear another second in his presence.

So when you pushed him out, he left and let you clean yourself alone in the bathroom, letting you gather your thoughts.

“How was it?” He heard John speak from where the older man sat on the couch.

“Better than it should, if i say so myself,” Kyle approached and gave him a quick peck before taking a seat beside him. “I was just going to talk to her, but.. i couldn't hold myself back.”

Before John could respond, a continuous buzz was heard.

Kyle pulled out his phone and accepted the call before putting it on speaker mode.

“Fuck ye, should’ve said somethin’ about the lass comin’ o’er.” Thick scottish accent came through the speaker.

John chuckled at the complaints. “Don't want to overwhelm her yet, Mactavish."

“Ya fuckin' dobber- Come on, Simon! Hit the fucking gas. We’re headin’ back home whether they like it or not,” His yelling rang loudly through the line, even if it was directed at someone from his side.

Looks like the other two were ending their date early.

open taglist : @skeletonsucker, @niazrzl, @iiriam, @katerinaval, @chickennn-soupp, @massivescissorsthingperson, @dreamland08, @massivescissorsthingperson, @brittney-121, @kukavittu, @noheadcanons-juststories, @z-wantstowrite, @uraeus56, @tellme-im-pretty, @prettygirleevee, @pisiksukedk, @nathanmcr

Next (soon)

I’m just imagining rugby players TF141. Price is the coach while Gaz, Soap, and Ghost are the players. You are their eager fanboy— always going to the games and first to buy merch. Following them on all social media and responding to all their posts.

We all seen rugby players and their bodies. Large beefy and hairy men just pressing against each other. TF141 is no different. So strong with their beefy muscular bodies— Soap and Price with the most good amount of hair on their chests and lower regions.

You would often find yourself jerking off or riding a dildo— imagining the silicon toy to be their dick. Moaning their names, wishing it was the real deal. You fantasized about the four men have the most perfect cocks. You know they have no idea you exist but that’s okay.

And they did notice you.

It was after a hard fought game that left them exhilarated and pent up at the same time. Price’s eyes monitored the crowd before laying them on you. As every one was leaving, the older man approached you. “I recognize you’re the fanboy? Me and the lads would like to meet you.”

You felt like passing out from those words. The coach was inviting you to meet them! This was a dream come true and you happily accepted the offer. You eagerly followed Price to the locker room— private section from the rest where the other players were.

Walking into the room, you were met with the three player completely naked, stroking their cocks. You stood shocked as you watched the scene, the three most sexiest men stroking their large erections.

“About damn time. This the lad who’s our fanboy? Look cute in those photos— now get to see you in person.” Simon grunts as he slows down his strokes and approaches you along with the others. All four men had you surrounded, Price was naked as well, his hairy beefy body pressing against your back.

You weren’t against this as your dream was reality. “Go on las, touch it.” Soap smirks as he waved his dick teasingly. You hesitantly touched it— was warm and thick in your hands, throbbing as you stroked it, the foreskin followed. Soap groans as he fucks your hand.

After that, you went from being their biggest fanboy to becoming their service boy. Satisfying their pleasures and stress after games or practice. All the men would stand in a circle and have you stroke their cocks and sucking— a bukkake circle. You happily accepted their thick loads of cum spurting on your face.

Then there was the actual sex. They rarely engaged in it before you came along. Now they’re feral whenever they fuck you. Your tight ass and moans of pleasure was music to them. You could determine that Ghost and Price were the biggest with average girth while Soap and Gaz were slightest above average with the greatest amount of girth.

You love it when the men fuck you dumb. You threw the toy away— demanded by Price since their dicks are the replacements. He doesn’t want you using that pathetic excuse now that you’re dealing with real cocks.

When it came to the sex, Soap and Gaz were more soft and passionate. Giving you praises and compliments. Their rough hands worshipping your body. Just wholesome.

Price and Ghost on the other hand— they’re more rough with Ghost being roughest. Price starts slow before ramming his cock deep into your ass— rearranging your guts. Ghost was just rough, he asked for your consent about it and you happily agreed to it.

Ghost would always prep you before fucking you like a sack of meat. His deep rough voice echoed into yours: “slut” “boytoy” “love being our whore” just degrading you. He left the most marks on your body— hickeys, bite marks, and hand prints.

At the end, the four men would work to clean your body. Washing you done and soothing your skin. Ghost would apologize for being rough while soothing rubbing your back. The four men basked in your presence.

It’s not greedy to have four husbands, right?

I just been feral for the last few days. More so than usual. These men just make me so 😩 keep this up and I’ll have all my requests for round 4 completed.

Tag list: @hiddens-eden @spnfanboy777 @buckyshusband0 @zamfam4272 @starboye @boypied @maxxioislost @sluttyhusband

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

Nobody can convince me otherwise that Price wouldn't cry if he was proposed to/proposing

He gives off similar vibes to my dad and he cried at his wedding cause he was so happy

Okay, 1) Ur dad sounds super sweet lol. 2) Price so would and have a surprise ficlet.

Would you?

CW: SFW, Price X GN reader fluff, proposals, crying

The thought of marriage strikes him as you two lay in bed one night. It's not a particularly special night; he's not fresh from the battlefield or hardening his heart to go back to it. It's just a regular Tuesday night — your arms around him, your legs a tangle of limbs in the sheets, your head resting over his chest so you can be lulled to sleep by the sound of his heart — when he thinks. . . Wouldn't it be nice to be buried under your name?

That maybe, just maybe, he'll have you to keep him from a pauper's grave. That your and his bones will be able to mix when time erodes flesh, wood, and earth between you two. That the only thing that will remain will be those gold rings.

He starts planning that morning, approaching the proposal like he would a suicide mission; he calculates every variable, scours his brilliantly sharp mind for every little detail he's catalogued about you, making plans upon plans for how it could go both wrong and right. Writing sessions of what he wants to say to you stretch long into sleepless nights, he cracks open that old dusty book of family recipes and scribbles little exclamation marks next to the dishes you enjoy, secretly taking your ring measurement so he can confidently go ring shopping.

His wallet is fat from his work, yet he picks up side jobs in the private security sector on his off time — He's happy to babysit overgrown brats if it means he can buy you a ring without blood money. He wants this to be something pure and free of the violence shrouding his life. He doesn't do it often, but some times he fantasizes of what will come next; he'd hate to wear a stuffy suit like he does his military blues to those posh military dinners, but for you, it wouldn't feel like a labour nor a penance. He's sure it wouldn't take much for Kate to get her officient license, and whenever he starts thinking of that Price finds himself smiling like a loon at the thought of you on your wedding day, bright eyed and with a big smile with his ring on your finger.

A simple question — what if you refuse? — always brings him back down to the ground and drags his heart to the pit of his stomach. He tries not to think about it (he thinks too much about it, the bloody fool)

He decides to propose on your anniversary.

He wakes up long before you, having barely slept a wink the night before with last minute thoughts running through his head. Breakfast is ready for you by the time you stumble out of bed, his beard scratching your chin as he gives you a goodbye kiss before you set out to work. He spends the rest of the day making sure the house is spotless, getting you flowers, picking out the nicest clothes you two have and then goes to make dinner.

And of course, the things out of his control go wrong on the one day he needs it to be perfect. He only notices the oven is busted when the roast he's making in it starts smoking enough to set off the fire alarm. He scrambles to salvage it but it's too late and he's left scurrying around the kitchen trying to figure out something else.

Price doesn't notice when you get home, the locking of the door and your tired footsteps betting lost in the sound of clattering pots and pans. He nearly tosses the pan he's holding when you sneak up and wrap your arms around him, pulling him back from the roaring fire of the stove to press your chest to his back.

You rest your head on his shoulder, lips brushing his neck. "Relax," You say, both an admonishment and a suggestion.

"Bloody git". Price grumbles to himself under his breath but relaxes into you, nuzzling his head against yours. "M' sorry love, the bloody oven broke and-" he clams up just as he's starting to explain, already rethinking the proposal as a whole because Christ, how can he be a good husband when he can't even make you dinner properly?

"Hey," You begin and kiss his temple, rubbing soothing circles into his side. "How about we dress up and I'll order take out huh?" You say, letting go of him and taking charge by calling both of your favourite takeout place before he even has a chance to refuse.

Price knows this proposal is dead in the water. He's seen far too many proposal videos on that TokTik app — the ones with extravagant locations and massive diamond rings gifted to the brides to be via doves — to know such a simple proposal would fly.

But he still goes along with your plan; At the very least he can enjoy the sight of you done up in nice clothes, in the knowledge you do it for him. And he's sure you love how he looks in his suit too, his beard can't hide how pink his cheeks get when you call him dashing or handsome as you fix his tie. He gets you back though, cupping your cheek when you're done with his tie so he can pull you in for a long and slow kiss. He wants to press further, proposal plans already at the back of his mind, but he's interrupted by the delivery guy. He's especially not pleased when you stick your tongue out at him like a child and scamper away to get your takeout.

After plating the food, you sit down to eat, and Price remembers to light the special candles he'd bought. The food is good even if it's not what he'd wanted, but it's easy to forget about this shortcoming of his when you're laughing and telling him about some thing that happened to you today. He listens intently, remembering why he loves you when you speak so passionately about your hobby.

Price decides this is it.

He had a speech prepared, written and rewritten a dozen times until it was perfect, the one he'd practiced all day until his throat was raw. But the words dissapear like a mirage in his mind, and even if he did remember them, it would feel too out of place. So he simply stands up, cutting your talk short. His back aches as he gets to one knee, hands shaking a bit and fumbling with the box before he presents the golden ring to you. "Do you. . ." He hesitates, takes a deep breath, "Do you want to spend the rest of our lives together?"

Your eyes flicker between him and the ring, staring, bewildered. The pit in his stomach grows with every passing second, only to swallow up his heart when you open your mouth and say "Are you serious?"

This is it, Price thinks, he's mistaken what you two had together for something it was not. He's already thinking of ways to backtrack, fat tears building at the corners of his eyes that he desperately tries to blink away.

He's caught unaware when you kneel down in front of him. There's a sheepish look on your face as you bring out your own little box. Inside is a simple golden ring, your and his initials carved into it.

You give him a wry little smile, "Surprise."

Price stares at the ring. A second passes. Then another. A third one is well on it's way before his mind finally realises what this is and a childish laugh bubbles from his chest. "You-" He reaches out and pulls you into a bear hug. "-bloody Muppet almost made my heart give out." He grouches but absolutely melts into your body as you return the hug. You feel his mighty shoulders shake and chest rumble as his laughter gets out of control, pulling you into laughing with him.

He buries his face into your neck, trying to say something but his hiccups turn the words into meaningless happy noise. He doesn't even notice when he starts to cry, but it's a good type of crying — the one where you just don't know how to express the light airy feeling gripping your chest. Price feels like his ribcage is stuffed with dandelion fluff, fat tears rolling down his cheeks.

"I love you." He says into your skin, low and quiet, voice still raw as he nuzzles his beard into your neck. His hands grip you tightly, afraid to let go.

"I love you too." You say, kissing him with nothing but love and care and tenderness in your actions.

Price is running high on the buzz of getting engaged when you two settle on the couch, back in comfortable pyjamas and wrapped up in blankets and each others arms, your takeout on the table as you settle to watch a movie. Your hand finds his, two golden rings clicking together beneath the sheets, and Price feels fresh tears roll down his cheeks before you kiss them away.

Being buried under your name would be nice, but living under your name is much better.

Expanding on this.

warnings: perv!König, noncon groping, somno, titfucking

-

Best Friend!König who’s obsessed with your tits.

You’ve known each other since childhood, and while he shot up in height, you shot up in bra size. And König noticed. Mien Gott, did he notice.

He was around fifteen when he realized for the first time just how nice your breasts felt against his big body when he hugged you, so soft and warm. He started taking any excuse to give you long, drawn out hugs—though of course he told himself it was just because he loved you so much. You were the only person who didn't bully him, after all.

He rationalized how his gaze started to end up on your cleavage more often than your face, too. He was just so tall, that even if he tried to look into your eyes—and he did, Schatz, he really did! You have to believe him, he tried so hard—he could see straight down your top, anyway.

And, well, he was no saint—just a man. And your tits were so pretty.

Could you really blame him for looking? He just wanted to admire you…

He always insisted on driving you places once he got his license—he was a good friend, after all, and he liked being useful. That he got to throw his arm out across your soft chest every time the car in front of him stopped too suddenly was just a bonus.

As the years passed by, his obsession grew—especially after he found porn. Most nights, he fisted his long, fat cock to videos of women who looked like you having their breasts played with, abused, worshipped. He preferred the latter, but he couldn’t deny there was something thrilling about the idea of slapping your soft tits and watching them jiggle. He would be sure to kiss them better after, though.

Once, after a particularly rough mission, König showed up at your place beaten to hell, eyes scarily hollow. You immediately let him inside, pulled him down onto your couch, and held him as he cried. He laid his head on your chest, seeking the comfort only your breasts could give him, and you shushed him softly as you petted his hair. He wished desperately in that moment that he could pull your top down, latch onto one of your cute little nipples, and suckle to his heart’s content, but he settled for leaning more and more of his weight on you until you had to lay back on the couch, him on top of you with his face buried in between your tits as he feigned sleep.

He was far too heavy for you to move yourself, and clearly, you felt bad for him, because you let him stay like that the whole night rather than wake him up.

On your twentieth birthday, König made sure he would have two whole weeks of leave, so he could spend time with you and your perfect breasts. He didn’t have the best relationship with his family, and you didn't have a roommate at Uni, so you let him stay in your dorm. You weren’t going to make your best friend sleep on the floor, of course, so the two of you shared a bed. Nothing untoward happened until the fourth night, when you both got outrageously drunk. You curled up in the tiny bed together when you got back from the pub, and promptly knocked out.

When you woke up the next morning, though, it was to one of König’s massive paws slipped under the neck of your dress, cupping your left tit.

To say you freaked out was an understatement.

You jumped up like you arse was on fire, hollering at him, demanding to know what the fuck he thought he was doing. König, who had been dead asleep, actually fell out of the bed, looking up at you for once, his big, perpetually sad eyes wide with complete confusion and a little bit of fear. When he realized what you were accusing him of, he started stuttering apologies, mortified with himself. You thought it was because he had unintentionally groped you in his sleep, which was partially true. But the main reason he was so upset was because he hadn’t even gotten to enjoy it. He’d held your beautiful breasts for the very first time and he hadn’t even known! The thought made him tear up, and you quickly forgave him, telling him that you believed him—"Accidents happen."

Every time it happened after that, König let you believe it was still an accident.

The more time he spent in the military earning his fearsome reputation and seeing terrible horrors, the bolder he grew. Now, when he visited you in your flat and gave you those sad puppy eyes until you let him sleep in bed with you rather than on the couch, he did not merely cup your breast at night. He played with your nipples, rolling the sensitive little buds between his fingers, tugging and pinching and delighting in the sleepy sounds of pleasure you let out. You tended to wake up if he got his mouth on them though, so he restrained himself—at least until he was able to get you drunk. You slept like dead when you were wasted, and he had free reign over your amazing tits. He squeezed and sucked, kissed and licked, even fucked them, once. He’d been a little drunk too, that night, or he wouldn't have risked it—but seeing his massive cock nestled between your breasts was like a revelation. He found God in the warm embrace of your tits, and he made an offering in the form of his seed, spilling it all over your chest, neck, and lips.

It felt blasphemous to clean his come from your skin, like he was desecrating a sacred altar, but he knew you would hate him if you discovered what he’d done. And he couldn’t have that—he loved you, he always had and always would. You and your heavenly breasts.