No thoughts just marine biologist!reader working on tagging orca mers...
You've been following this specific pod for some time, pod 141. A group of four bulls, they've cemented themselves as a formidable group in their territory.
"Okay, last tag," you tell your assistant, readying the poll. The 141 have been relatively compliant, familiar with the process as they've been tagged twice before.
"Here, gaz is swimming up," you lean closer over the edge, trying to stretch the pole as far as it will go "we can–"
A large wave rocks the boat, and with a cold splash you are plunged into icy water.
Really. It's poor foresight on your companies part to choose wet suits that resemble orcas.
The 141 pod swim around you curiously, inspecting the strange maybe-calf that fell off the boat. The biggest mer, ghost from the excessive white patterning on his face, reaches out to grab you. All the muscles in your body tighten, some base instinct telling you to curl up and hide.
Only...all ghost does is hold you to his chest before rising to the surface.
You gasp the second air is available, blinking salt water from your eyes to find the boat isn't far away and neither is your crew. The mers gather closer, chirping at you in a distinctive calf? Calf abandoned? Chirp that you've come to recognize from them.
Oh...oh shit.
Ghost passes you off to price, unable to do anything when the mers are so much larger than you. They think you're a calf, and you know this pod has a history of adopting lone mers.
Divorced dad!Ghost noticing his new younger neighbor talking to his 4 year old daughter Emily, cooing over a frog she found while you tell her not to kiss it because it wont turn into a frog prince (duh), cigarette in hand as he silently watches.
That sundress does nothing to hide your frame, the swell of your breasts peeking out the top of the dress, a pretty necklace hanging in your cleavage, his cock chubs up nicely in his work pants, wishing he could just bend you over and take you in the middle of the street. He'll settle for just this for now.
30 minutes later Emily drags you to Simon to introduce you as "the pretty lady from next door" and you awe at her before sticking your hand out for a handshake towards the big brute.
He extends his thick calloused hand and shakes it firmly, feeling how soft your hand is, he feels no ring... good. He'll change that soon.
You end up talking for a while exchanging numbers before heading off to wherever you were going before.
Ghost stares at the phone number you gave him before quickly shutting his phone off, already anticipating the next time he sees you.
Basket seastar!hybrid reader who is used to being a little...left out. Too many branching limbs, the standard human-like trunk and shoulders extending at the elbow in not a single arm but multiple splits, a vast fern-like explosion of arm/hand/finger things, constantly shifting and exploring. A nightmare to manage with clothes so you often modify your uniform to be sleeveless, which means everyone gets a direct view of your limbs.
And none of them like it.
Too creepy, too weird and the movement freaks people out, the way the tiniest of phalanges curls and twists. You train yourself to wind the fronds tight together, make a single or double limb, but inevitably you lose control and it all explodes out again.
You learn to stay in the back of the room, to hide when possible, and even the skills that brought you to the 141- the way you can type a code, write a message, and field strip a weapon all simultaneously- are better off in the shadows, where your new team can't get too...upset. Can't snap and sneer, wiping off their arms and hands if they accidentally touch you, shoving you away if your fronds start to reach for them or anything they're holding.
"The fuck're you doin' back here?"
You look up at your lieutenant. Ghost is glaring down at you, dark eyes scowling out of his balaclava. "Um...eating?" Your hand-frond curls around another French fry. Salt, oil, potato, a preservative in the potato. Greasy fingers that prepped it all onto the tray.
"Yeah, and why alone? Team eats together, that's the rule," he says, and jerks his thumb over to the table he and the sergeants are at. He grabs your tray, and you don't have a choice but to follow.
The other men welcome you warmly, and to your astonishment, they don't skitter away as your phalanges spread over the table, touching their trays, an instinct you can't fully reign in. Soap's drink slides across the table towards you, and you wince, fronds peeling away from it. Aluminum, paint, fresh water in the condensation, and your microscopic hooks leave little marks in the logo.
"Sorry! Sorry, I can...get you a new one..." You trail off, because he's shrugging and taking his drink back, touching it easily.
"Eh, if I was that worried about it, I'd get it myself. You're fine, love," he adds, and your throat is tight. Is this really all it takes? One tiny kindness?
Gaz grins. "Look, I know you're worried, but we really do not give a shit about all- this," he gestures to your wide, branching baskets of arms, "outside of what it means for our missions. Do you know how many weird bugs that one has brought home?"
He nods to your left, and you look over to Ghost, where he's examining the delicate phalanges that have spread over his arm with the care and focus of a master watchmaker. He strips off a glove, and your breath catches in your chest as he touches the very tip of a frond with his finger- a tiny burst of taste, salt-skin-oil-cotton, the base building blocks of the man called Ghost- and shakes it solemnly, like he's meeting you for the first time.
Soap pats your shoulder, and doesn't twitch when your arm splits in surprise. "Not that you're a bug! But, y'know, when you get two hours in a transport home being told all about the way this beetle works and lives, you start to see the beauty in the strange. And nothing's stranger than our LT!"
He's grinning, easy and relaxed even as your arms start to steal his spoon. Stainless steel, oils from his skin, cheap plastic handle. Gaz loses a couple of his own French fries, and takes a few of yours in return, and you sit there with your arms wide open, a basket getting bigger with every surprised, delighted thump of your heart.
If you gave Soap a gold star sticker as a joke for dicking you down good, he'd brag about it to Gaz, who would in turn take that as a challenge and wouldn’t leave your room until there are two gold stars plastered on his cheek.
John "a few nights with me can fix you right up, love." Price who laughs openly when you tell him you're ace. He thinks it's just a phase, and gets all huffy when you keep refusing to do anything sexual with him. Tries to leverage his money and the "favors" he does for you to make you break, genuinely believes you are mentally ill and tells everyone as much.
Vs
Simon "okay? Don't matter to me. Anyways these beetles—" riley who seriously couldn't give a fuck. He can hardly get it up half the time anyways, and his hand works plenty fine. He'd rather listen to you ramble about your interests or cuddle and watch a nature documentary.
Imagine reader being the only human in werewolf!141, or you are until you have to be turned on the field. A traumatic process you seem to handle...shockingly well.
The only problem? You have no clue what is and isn't socially acceptable for a werewolf to do.
The guys aren't exactly sure how to tell you that obsessively sniffing everyone's clothes is...weird. creepy. Because you being creepy is better than remembering the way you screamed during the transformation, right?
So they let you curl up in gazs hoodie, taking a sniff to mutter "woah, I like this. You smell so good, gaz."
It's worse when you decide to do it in public, still getting used to your new heightened senses. You don't hesitate to cuddle up to soap, astonished by how warm he feels, nose tucking into his neck. Cedar, cinnamon, gunpowder and his distinct musk all filling your nostrils.
Your instincts, too, are completely out of your control. You bark and whine and huff whenever they tell you to, even when it's considered...taboo to indulge in certain instincts publicly.
Like play-biting on ghosts arms whenever they are vaguely within range of your teeth, similar to how gaz sometimes acts, but you don't mind doing it in the middle of a meeting. Though you're wiggling happily with a phantom-tail common in most recent transformations, so ghost does nothing to stop you.
Truthfully, the team is glad you're so preoccupied in your new identity. Too distracted to notice the way they've been acting odd, sneaking off more often either alone or in pairs, coming back smelling odd which only makes you want to sniff them more. They've all agreed it's best to let you figure yourself out first, what with how disorienting a transformation can be, especially one as traumatic as yours.
Because really, who was going to be the one to tell you that by werewolf standards you've been violently flirting with the entire team?
Price is so fucking stressed when he accidentally gets his younger partner pregnant.
Of course he should have predicted it, what with all the times he's filled you up under the supposed safety of that magic pill. When you miss your period and confirm it twice that you're pregnant, you both sit down and have a serious conversation about what that means for you.
Which ends with price obsessively researching pregnancy and at your every whim to make sure you get all the help he needs. He's got multiple files compiled with all the research He's done, and has pulled strings to make sure you have the best team assigned to your pregnancy.
"John. I am not sitting in bed all day I swear to god if you don't let me clean—" you also end up having to fight your husband for the ability to life the coffee table, because he's decided that your five weeks pregnant body can't handle it.
Yeah. Maybe you get a little cheeky with your "pregnancy cravings" and ask for specific restaurants on the other side of town so you can sneakily clean and lift boxes. So what? You're going crazy not rearranging the entire house!!
Price, of course, is the literal captain of a specialized task force. He falls for your tricks exactly twice before making ghost retrieve all your requests, not like his lieutenant does anything besides loom around forests when not on base.
Price just...needs to make sure you're okay all the time. For his own hearts sake.
He freaks out more than you do when your water breaks, having prepared and run drills for the exact situation, only focusing up when you snap at him.
In the end you deliver two health baby girls and price does cry when he holds you in his arms afterwards.
Simon is impossibly deep inside of your warm, wet pussy, thrusting so hard you scoot up the bed as he knocks the air from the lungs while the headboard bangs against the wall. A pillow is strategically placed under your hips so every time he slams inside of you it hits your sweet spot, and your clit catches on the wet material without fail. Your nipples drag across the soft fabric beneath you, your hands clutching at the pillows in front of you, all while you’re being fucked dumb.
“Fuckin’ slut. Wish you could see the way your pussy sucks me in,” he growls, his grip on you turning punishing, his face never faltering as he continues to drill into you from behind.
His fingers are tangled in your hair, yanking on it hard and keeping your head in place so your moans aren’t muffled against the mattress. His other hand is wrapped around your throat, cutting off your airway just enough to make it more pleasurable as your choked sobs ring out around the room.
His thick, long cock slides through your walls as he molds your pussy to be perfect for him. The veins and ridges leave imprints the faster he thrusts, the deeper he reaches, the harder he grinds. Every knock to your cervix leaves you breathless, every brush against your sweet spot has pleasure shooting through your body, and the longer he abuses your poor pussy, the more you beg for it.
“P-please Si, please,” you manage to say, gripping onto the sheets for dear life, lifting your hips to meet his every thrust but trying to run from it all at the same time.
Simon fucks you harder, the sound of your sweet voice begging for him enough to bring him to the brink of his orgasm, but not until you unravel on him for the umpteenth time tonight. His hand smacks down against your ass, your skin burning raw immediately, and he yanks your hair so hard that stars burst behind your eyelids.
“Please what? Be a good girl and use your fuckin’ words,” he says through gritted teeth, biting back an obscene moan that wishes to fall from his swollen lips.
His fingers press into the delicate skin of your neck, your pulse fluttering around his thumb, and the adrenaline of knowing that you’re at his mercy makes your walls clamp down tight around him, earning you a hiss from the man behind you. When you don’t respond in what he deems as a timely manner, his hand strikes your ass again, harder this time, but somewhere in this moment he still feels guilty for it when his thumb brushes over the scorching skin to soothe you.
“More, p-please Si,” you continue to beg, completely consumed by the feeling of his cock inside you, bullying your insides with no pity.
His hand moves from your throat to the pillow in front of you as he steadies himself. Leaning over your back, his cock pressed against your cervix with the utmost amount of pressure, he positions himself to watch your face while he fucks into you like a rabid animal as if he has no compassion or love for the woman under him what-so-ever.
You know he would apologize after. Apologize for being rough, apologize for saying mean things, apologize for acting as if he has no respect for you, but it makes your pussy so fucking wet all you can do is beg for him to be meaner.
“Yeah? Beg for it. Look at me and beg me to make you cum, beg me to make you feel good slut.”
Your gaze lifts to his, and the way his pupils dilate from the sight of you so undone solely because of him has a groan rumbling out from the depths of his chest. Drool drips from your chin while your mouth hangs open ever so slightly. Your eyes are half-lidded and dazed with tears staining your cheeks, your lips swollen and pigmented, and he watches how every single time his cock thrusts until there’s no more space inside you the air from your lungs comes in short, ragged gasps that sound like music to his ears.
“Make me c-cum Si- f-fuck- make me f-feel good, p-please,” you stutter, tripping over every other word, trying your hardest to form sentences coherent enough to beg for it like he asked.
He growls, deep and low, animalist almost, and he shoves your face into the pillow while spreading your cheeks with his other hand to watch your pussy swallow him whole. He fucks you, deep and hard and fast, it is almost too much. Your juices leak out around his cock, coating his length of your arousal, and he watches how tight you get the closer your orgasm gets.
“Do it,” he says, the words coming out strained, “cum on my fucking dick then since you beg so pretty.”
Every movement of his hips is hitting a spot inside of you that bursts into pleasure. Your cervix, your sweet spot, your nipples drag against the sheets until they’re hard and sore, your clit grinding against the pillow beneath you until it all pushes you over the edge. Your body becomes rigid, your muscles draw taut, and your screaming sobs fill the room, and no other sounds can be heard.
“I’m c-cumming-“
“Who makes you feel this good? Who do you belong to,” he asks, fucking you harder, fucking you through your orgasm, fucking you into overstimulation, waiting for the words to fall from your pretty, swollen lips before he allows himself the same release.
“You! F-fuck it’s always you Si,” you whimper, your body twitching from your walls being rubbed raw, from your clit grinding against every last nerve, from your nipples peaking beyond belief.
With a few more thrusts and a guttural groan ripping from his throat, Simon buries himself to the hilt, spilling his seed into the deepest parts of you. Long, thick ropes of warm cum flood your pussy, spurting out against your cervix with every twitch of his cock, coating your walls in all he has to give as the man behind you stills while he fills you to the brim. When nothing else will fit it leaks out around him, your cum mixing with his, making a mess between your thighs and spreading against the sheets.
“Fuck,” he groans, collapsing on top of you, trying his hardest to catch his breath.
His face is buried between your shoulder blades, his warm breath hitting your skin and sending shivers down your spine, his hands moving from their previous positions to caress up your sides as if asking for forgiveness through touch before asking verbally. He kisses against your spine, all the way down to your ass where he licks the raw handprint burning against your skin, and when he reaches your pussy, he licks up the mess before flipping you over with ease.
He hovers above you, wiping a stray tear before placing a feather light kiss to your lips. Admiring you, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, watching the way you give him the softest yet brightest smile he has ever seen, and he can’t help but cover your face in the same kisses.
“You’re not a slut, and you never have to beg for me…,” he mumbles in between kisses, and before he can keep rambling on you pull him down until your forehead is pressed against his.
“If you say sorry… I swear Simon.”
He laughs softly, “I know, I know. I’m sorry- shit- sorry. Fuck. I’ll just stop talking now, yeah?”
Thinking about mer!reader who was born in captivity meeting mer!ghost who was born wild...
You both meet in a mer sanctuary, you having been rescued from an aquarium going bankrupt and ghost under treatment for a boating strike. You've never seen another mer before, but the strange creature in your tank undeniably is one, that much you instincts tell you.
But....but he's so big, bigger than anything you've seen before! You doubt he could ever comfortably fit in your tank! Just looking at him makes your fins flutter nervously, hiding in the rocks on the shelf built into the pool.
He keeps peeking into your cave, chirping and churring in a way that makes your instincts perk but you don't really understand. Safety? Pod? You don't know.
Meanwhile, ghost is losing his mind.
This strange mer is too damn small, and he keeps trying to ask "are you okay? I'm safe, did they hurt you?" But all it does is squeak like a pup and hide!
Ghost can't fit into the tiny cave with the mer, and his instincts are already freaking out because he's separated from his pod! He needs to protect the weird pup!
....how the hell the workers intend to care for you when ghost is at risk of drowning anyone who tries, they have no idea.
Request fill for nonny who wanted captive vs wild mer!!!
Okay now imagine cane corso!ghost bonding with terrier!reader
You were so excited to learn you'd be with another dog hybrid, contrary to popular belief they aren't all that common in higher ranks.
For once, you get to have someone who understands you instincts and doesn't scoff at your social behaviors. You get someone to maybe-hopefully pack bond with and not have to explain what that is. You finally get someone high energy to run and play with—
And it turns out he's a giant, sleepy, boring dog.
Lieutenant riley does little more than give you a sniff when he first meets you, a sleepy rumble low in his chest before meandering off. Not what you expected, but it's still nice to bond with him.
Ghost, as it turns out, is a great packmate. He's willing to indulge your more hyper moods, and when he isn't?
"Fuckin' settle down, pup." Ghost grunts, grabbing you by the scruff and tossing you to the floor of the rec room. You barely get a moment to recover before 300+ pounds of dog hybrid lie atop you, pinning you down heavily.
Not matter how hard you bark and growl, ghost just rumbles in his half-sleep, tail slowly wagging.
Without fail, it always seems to make you sleepy too. All that high energy you can never deal with settling right down into a foggy peace, enjoying your packmate on top of you and his scent so close, your own tail wagging.
Which is how the team find you an hour later, happily sleeping under the crushing weight if ghost while he absently watches the birds outside.
Platonic Yandere! Dinosaur Hybrid! 141 x GN! Dinosaur Hybrid! Reader x Platonic Yandere! Dinosaur Hybrid! KorTac
Wordcount: 3k
Part 1
AN: It was my birthday earlier this week! I have some beef with a university that I don’t go to because they've been refusing to identify a fossil that they have in an area that’s open to the public and that reminded me to update this fic. Hopefully y’all enjoy this next part! There were a ton of requests for part 2 so I feel a little bad for making y'all wait. Not proofread because I’m lazy.
TW: Infantilization, animalistic and yandere behaviors, very mild violence, injuries
♡♡♡
Things were going well for you and the team. You were comfortable and happy with the men after getting used to them. You had started to see them as your herd and you were happy to follow them around. John was not pleased when he was informed that the team that 141 would be collaborating with mercenaries. Shadow Company has left a bad taste in his mouth and he wasn't excited to have to deal with another company like them. He was even less happy when he mentioned during a meeting that the other team was all herbivores and you perked up like he had never seen before. You were content with the team but you weren't excited with them. It made his temper that much shorter when he thought about it more.
The entire team dreaded meeting the mercenaries that they'd be working with. They tried to get you to agree to stay behind but you were so excited that they couldn't just leave you behind. Your eyes were so bright and sparkly that none of them could handle saying no to you.
A Jeep drove up to the meeting spot on base and once it stopped, four massive hybrid men got out. There was a hybrid that towered over even Simon. A giant whiplike tail that likely took up almost the entirety of the back of the car slithered back and forth behind him. His exposed skin was all green and blue scales that matched his tail and a black mask with bleached tears covered his face. You recognized his species from that of an older hybrid woman in your old herd. He was a Dreadnoughtus hybrid.
The next hybrid that you focused on wasn’t nearly as large but was still incredibly impressive. His face was covered with a sniper hood but the feature that really drew your attention was the massive spike on the bone that connected his thumb to the rest of his hand. That made you even more excited. You were childhood friends with a few Iguanodon hybrids and you knew that you tended to get along well with them. His tail wasn’t anything extraordinary but you were very happy about the prospect of meeting him.
The next hybrid that you stared at was even more exciting to you. He was more lean and narrowly built than the others but the massive claws on his hands gave him away as a Therizinosaurus hybrid. He tilted his head as he looked down at you, clearly curious as to why such a small herbivorous hybrid was stuck with so many carnivores. His tail was covered in stripes like a tiger and lowered in a display of playfulness towards you. Though his mask and sunglasses covered most of his face, his body language showed that he was interested in greeting you.
The last hybrid would’ve been terrifying if you were a carnivore hybrid. Plates of armor interlocked with massive spines all across his back and neck, leading down to an equally protected tail. The plates of his mask covered his face but you knew what he was the second that you laid eyes on him. A Gargoyleosaurus hybrid. They had made up a large portion of your herd back home and seeing one was such a relief. Your mind was flooded with memories of home, of play fighting and headbutting the backs of older ankylosaur hybrids. The sound of bone meeting bone has always been a comfort to you, especially with the feeling of safety associated with it.
You were thrilled. These were the first herbivores that you had encountered in weeks. You let out a few chirping welcome calls out of pure relief and began excitedly approaching them. The men simply let you, letting out some soft chuffs and calls in response. You eagerly began smelling each of them as you began to get acquainted with the four, happily learning their names and introducing yourself. The effect that you had on them was immediate. The Gargoyleosaurus hybrid positioned himself with his spikey back facing the 141. The Dreadnoughtus hybrid carefully faced you as he began to smell you in return and put his tail in the striking position to defend you from the carnivore hybrids. The Therizinosaurus hybrid stayed at your side and simply stared at the pack behind you, massive claws in position to defend. The Iguanodon hybrid stayed in front of you and gently began fussing over the wrinkles in your uniform and the small scratches on your skin from when Johnny would play too roughly with you.
Did you notice the defensive positions that they were taking? No. You were too busy chattering at the herbivores, excitedly introducing yourself and rubbing up against them. It was obvious that they immediately accepted you into their herd, much to the chagrin of your actual teammates.
John was livid. You hadn’t ever engaged with your team like that at all. You were still fairly shy around them and rarely engaged in any instinctual behaviors. You never even tried to groom their scales! He couldn’t blame you though. It was clearly the fault of the other hybrid team. They were messing with your head somehow and confusing you on who you were meant to be in a herd with. Johnny looked devastated. Despite all of his hard work, you had never tried to initiate any type of scenting with him. He had never heard you talk so much or volunteer so much information about yourself either. He usually had to all but pry it out of you.
Kyle’s normally soft eyes were hard and angry. His usually calm and relaxed body language was aggressive and tense. He looked ready to rip and tear his way over to you if it meant that you would come back to the team. If you had looked behind you, your immediate instinct would be to hide. Simon’s eye began to twitch as he watched you begin to rub yourself on the other team, mixing all of your scents together. He was fairly territorial normally and this only made it worse. He was the first to decide to make a move.
He began stalking towards you, pointedly ignoring the warning signs given by the other team. He pushed past the tail, spines, spikes, and claws guarding you, expertly navigating them in a way that showed his experience in hunting herbivores. Before any of them could truly protest in a way that wouldn’t get them fired, he had grabbed the scruff of your uniform in his jaws and began carrying you back to the humvee that you had ridden to the meeting place with your actual team.
“Hey! Let me go! I’m not doing anything wrong! I want to go back!” You complained.
You weren’t hurt at all, just annoyed. You had been carried around by your teammates a few times before and you couldn’t say that you were a particularly big fan. One time, Johnny had been so aggressive about carrying you away from some other soldiers on base that he had ripped through the scruff of your uniform and dropped you, almost trampling you in the process. The Captain completely ripped him a new one and your uniform was replaced within half an hour but that didn’t mean that you magically became fond of being carried like a hatchling.
“Nope. Not happening. We're waiting in the car.” Ghost said gruffly as he continued to haul you away as if you weighed nothing.
You didn’t like waiting in the car. You especially didn’t like how he licked away the new smells from your face and rubbed his scent all over you, replacing those of your new friends. He smelled like blood and you didn’t like it. He kept a firm grip on your scruff as you squirmed and fruitlessly tried to get back to the team of herbivores. Eventually, you simply sat in the back with him with your arms crossed and a frown on your face, as well as a nasty side eye aimed at Simon. You grumbled occasionally and wiped the saliva off of your face but he simply ignored it, instead electing to supervise you and make sure that you weren’t trying to go anywhere. He didn’t budge when you begged him to let you go outside to eat some of the ferns that were growing by the side of the road. That was what really tipped you off about how pissed off he was, even if it wasn’t really towards you. You watched longingly through the window as the rest of the team did their introductions and Simon continued to try to clean the herd’s scent off of you.
The drive back was more than awkward for you. All of the men on your team were more tense than you had ever seen them. Simon had moved up to the front seat while John drove, leaving you sitting between Johnny and Kyle in the back. Johnny was more clingy than ever as he firmly held you against him and Kyle seemed incredibly concerned with every detail of your expression as he stared at you. You were definitely uncomfortable. You considered the situation for a bit and decided that things couldn’t get much worse so you could ask the captain when the next time that you would see the other team was. Unfortunately, your social calculations were off and things got worse.
“The rest of the day will be spent doing team bonding exercises. I think it’s fairly obvious that we need to build up more trust and loyalty.” John stated firmly as he glared at you through the rearview mirror, ignoring your question entirely.
You didn’t like the bonding exercises. Once you were back on base, you were kept in the nest for the rest of the afternoon and brought thick rope toys to play tug-of-war with. You weren’t exactly super interested in biting and pulling anything around, much to Johnny’s disappointment. He knew that you didn’t have the same instincts as the rest of the team but he figured that since he liked playing with those as a hatchling, you would like it too. Kyle tried to teach you how to make the calls that they used as signals during missions but your vocal chords weren’t the right shape to make them. Simon tried to get you to chew on a bone as a latch ditch effort to give you a treat but you just stared at him with a horrified expression when he dropped it in front of you. John was the only one that was mildly successful. He brought you some actually edible food and had you lay next to him while he worked on polishing your horns with his own personal grooming supplies, mumbling something about hatchlings needing physical contact and proper care. You reeked of the polish that he used so much that you were sure that you would never get it out of your uniform.
It was only the next day that you were allowed outside. You were all but escorted by the team to the lake to get some sun and more ferns. You knew the drill by now: eat, drink, get hovered over by your natural predators. After you were full, you stood up, stretched, and walked over to where the grass started and the sand ended. You made your way to the trunk of an old tree and laid down with your belly against the bark. You were asleep the second that your head began resting on the ground.
When you woke up, it was almost noon, judging based on the position of the sun in the sky. You felt significantly better until you looked around you and realized that you were surrounded by the team. Johnny and Kyle were curled up together on the grass and John was sprawled out beside them. The only one that was awake was Simon and he was sitting next to you. It was obvious that he had been petting your head while you were sleeping. You sat up immediately and Simon chuckled again. It was obvious that he thought that you were absolutely hilarious.
“C'mon. Let's get you fed again.” He muttered affectionately to you as he began nudging you towards the ferns.
You were lazily making your way over to your latest snack when you heard a familiar call. You looked up and sure enough, there was the other team coming down the hill. You snapped out of your sleepiness and quickly hurried to meet them until a pair of jaws clamped down on the scruff of your uniform again. You yelped in surprise as you were lifted again.
The other team didn’t seem to understand that your yelp wasn’t one of pain as the Dreadnoughtus, König, began charging down the hill towards the both of you. Simon’s eyes widened at the massive hybrid thundering towards him and quickly dropped you before stepping in front of you to begin a threat display. He let out a roar as the rest of the team joined him, startled awake by the sudden noise of the confrontation. The rest of the herd began charging after the Dreadnoughtus hybrid to offer reinforcements. You simply stared at them, mostly wondering what all of their collective problems were.
As the clash of titans began with roars and bellows and all sorts of violence, you decided to save your own hide and move away from the area. You wandered along the edge of the lake until you got to a spot that wasn’t as loud and began drinking from the cool, clear water. You had learned long ago to leave bigger hybrids to their own fights. You were too small to make a difference physically and it’s not like you had a dog in the fight. Your instincts weren’t as strong as other hybrids so you never fully understood the need for any territorial battles. You didn’t notice the sounds of the fight dying down or either of the teams calling for you.
You did, however, notice when Kyle scooped you up and interrupted your relaxing time after tracking your scent through the underbrush.
The rest of both teams crashed through the plants after him, each one looking panicked and a little bloody. You scrunched your nose up at the smell. It was far too close to the scent of the dining hall to not gross you out. All eight hybrids checked you over until each one was satisfied that you weren’t injured or dying.
“You didn’t think to tell anyone what was happening or that you were leaving?” John asked, deeply unimpressed.
“I needed a drink. I was thirsty.” You muttered defensively.
“We thought you were in danger.” Kreuger said as he began carefully cleaning your horns like you were a hatchling.
“I was. My throat was really dry. Plus, I could’ve gotten squished.” You said, a little embarrassed at the treatment.
That made the men pause. The topic was quickly dropped in favor of finding you the best grazing patch for you to use under their supervision. You quietly ate, your instincts enjoying being in a herd and therefore less vulnerable to the carnivores surrounding you. The passive aggression was still there with each member of the herd doing their best to give you the best possible ferns while blocking the view of the pack. The pack did their best to behave soothingly towards you, carefully grooming your scales while you ate and telling you how brave you are for tolerating strangers and how resourceful you are for finding somewhere safe to hide. Every time you would open your mouth to respond, a member of the herd would basically shove a whole fern in your mouth to keep you chewing instead of talking to your team.
Eventually, once you couldn't eat a single more frond, you were guided back to your team's nest. You flopped down in one corner and immediately passed out. Like many other herbivorous hybrids, you had always been able to sleep more easily with a full stomach. You didn't notice your team leave the room, already happily unconscious.
When you finally woke up, your team wasn't there for once and you began feeling anxious. Sure, being surrounded by your natural predators wasn't the best way for your instincts to settle but you had grown to trust them and you didn't like sleeping alone. You let out a little bleat in an attempt to call for them but were met with no response. Kyle had been trying to teach you how to track a scent and you did your best to follow your team's. You stopped at the door to a meeting room and furrowed your eyebrows in confusion as you recognized the other team's scent mixing with theirs. You decided that you would be forgiven for eavesdropping as you pressed your ear against the door.
“Did you see their face? They must’ve been terrified. Such a little thing must’ve been so scared to see such a fight.” Nikto said, sounding much more worried than he should’ve been.
“I agree. Further conflict should be avoided. A stressed hatchling isn't a happy one.” Ghost responds seriously.
“You see them as a hatchling too?” Horangi asked, seemingly perplexed at the concept of a carnivore hybrid, let alone four, having paternal and familial instincts.
“Obviously. Have you seen those little baby horns? Or that tiny tail? Besides, they're too small to be much else. They need to be taken care of. They won't last otherwise.” Price grumbled while licking a slash on his arm earned in the conflict after biting one of the herd members.
You walked away from the door after that. You were a little pissed off. You were excited to be part of a herd instead of being babied by some of the most terrifying carnivore hybrids that you had ever met and it turned out that the other herbivores saw you the same way as the carnivores. You huffed and began looking for a new job on your phone as you got comfortable in the nest again. This was so not worth the pay.
smut !! p in v sex , public sex , degrading ( ish ) , 3rd party finding yall ! enjoy — <3
taking price and ghost fighting and running with it.
some stupid argument about john price not following rules in their little tuesday off base bar games blossoming into two weeks worth of high level pettiness.
snide remarks, shoulder shoving, hell the only time they even looked at each other these days was when they were on the mats. knuckles red and angry as they tore at one another. pride too solid to shake.
which is how you landed beneath simon.
wobbling cries muffled by the thick of his glove. baby doll tee pulled over your swaying tits and showing off a glistening sweaty back to him.
"s-si'! hun—" you hiccup, words slurred beneath the fabric. back stinging with wicked pleasure as he bends you into a mean arch. he watches the fat of your ass ricket with every drive home of his hard pelvis.
"sh, lovie. can' let big man see us 'ere?" he grins, balaclava pulled over his nose. he licks a fat wet strip up your nape. groaning at the musky sent of sex that pours over the room. "fuckin, juusstt like tha',"
prices room.
atop prices desk.
without price.
he curves his hand around your right thigh, smacking harshly at the puffy skin of your ass. you squirm, nails digging into the wooden desk. moans only meeting his covering hand.
he dips his hand down to the slick cream mess between you two. stringy connections of cum pull taught each time he drags out all the way to his tip, just to shove all the way back in as he drags you backwards and shoves his hips forwards. you scream, eyes white as you claw at the hand around your jaw.
he gathers the slick, white ring around his cock creating gummy noises he isnt bothered to muffle.
simon also knows important papers lay just beneath your rocking body. he rubs at your clit messily, juices soppy. you keen, stomach throbbing with the buldge he bullies into you. you smack at his hand, tears brimming your tearline.
everything blurs hot for a second. the slamming of a door doesnt register past your clotted ears.
"wot the fuc—" price barges in. face hot with anger before his eyes slot to yours. he watches as shameful lust swirls in them before he flickers down to the wet connection between you and the lieutenant.
you whimper, would be more embarrassed if you hadnt fucked them both before.
simon plows into your feral, blunt covered nails digging into your cheek.
"gon' cum pretty girl? righ' on the old mans shite?" his fingers move from over your mouth to cupping your jaw firmly. moving your head to arch it back. eyes bearily finding him upside down.
he grins, eyes squinted in pure joy.
looking back up to price as he feels you tighten around him the most deliciously. browns burning with complete intention. youre lost, too worried about your impending explosion of a release to truly care as price watches you melt dumb.
he kisses your temple. feeling you muddle over.
babbles leave swollen lips and brows completely furrowed. "there! t-there, please si'! f-fuc—" with his mean pinch on your clit you choke on your moans, blanking as all crashes down on you.
nails dig into simons skin, blood prickling beneath. raspy screaming moan bouncing between both mens ears.
by the time you blink back to current reality, youre carefully laid over johns ruined desk. damp body smudging papers as they stick to your panting chest.
simon dutifully rubs your hips. smiling at john like the asshole he is.
Price doesn't do aftercare, he's made that point blatantly obvious from the first night together.
Well, he doesn't do aftercare for himself. John has the decency to wipe you off and make sure you're okay, you wouldn't keep coming back to him otherwise, but when you try to look after him? Complete shut down.
"C'mon, sir, let me take care of you—" you beg for the third time, giving price your best pleading eyes. You run your hand over the hair on his chest, one leg hooked over his waist in that way you know he secretly likes.
"I'm fine." He grunts, shutting down already. Tensing up, about to push you off and escape like he always does when you lean foreward.
"Awww, no fun, sir. At least a kiss?" You pout, holding his jaw and pressing your lips to his. The faint taste of smoke and whisky on his tongue, mixed with the flavor of you.
Price jolts suddenly, pulls back, eyes narrowed "what the hell did i just swallow?"
Your delighted smile is the last thing price sses.
....only to wake up...still in bed? But, no, the sheets have been changed, and price feels different. Mouth minty, teeth brushed when he runs his tongue over them. He smells clean, too, as if he took a shower. Not to mention how for once his knees don't ache to the core.
He narrows his eyes at the ceiling. His wrists are cuffed to the bed.
...there's a weight on his chest, fingers curling into the hair between pecs.
"Glad you're awake, sir. Have some soup cooling off for you." Your voice drifts up.
Really, price should have expected it. That the one person willing to sleep with him consistently is also willing to fucking drug him for the sole purpose of aftercare.
The Shadow team didn't really need you much. They tried their best to find tasks for you, paperwork, errands, anything to keep you busy. It's clear within a month, though, that there isn't much on base for you to do. Laswell reaches out to you after another long month of boring paper pushing with an offer.
"It's back on the same base, but you'll be working with Nikolai instead. He needs lots of equipment checked, brought to him, and cleaned. He also doesn't leave his hanger if he can help it. I don't know why I didn't assign you to him beforehand." She chuckles as you hear her flipping through papers on the desk.
"Why the pay raise?" You press, not against making more money, just wondering what else you'd be expected to do. Laswell clears her throat as she taps her pen on the desk.
"Nik is a great man, but he's pretty possessive over any secretary we've given him in the past. As long as you can handle his slightly overbearing nature, the job and pay raise is yours." She gave you a week to mull it over, but you called her the next day to take the job.
Nikolai greets you at his hanger, grinning wide at you as he pulls out a small box. "Hello there, I'm sure Laswell let you know of your uniform." He hums as he snaps open the small box. Your eyes focus on the thin leather collar, a beautiful bell dangling in the middle. "Can't have you getting lost again, kitty."
"Please don't tell them I'm back!" You rush, cringing immediately when the words fly out of your mouth. "Not yet, please. I want to get settled first."
"You want them to apologize for ignoring you." Your head snaps up to glare at him, gasping when he takes the moment to wrap the collar around your neck. "They will, kitty. Now -" The collar clasps shut. "When you shift, I'll still hear you coming."
You slowly reach up and touch the bell, ringing it a few times with the flick of your finger. The sound wasn't loud or annoying. The chime sounded like claiming, devotion. Ownership. You purr quietly in contentment as Nik places a hand on your neck and guides you into the hanger.
"Well, kitty, let's get you set up. Tomorrow will be a busy day."
craving milk, so he unbuckles his pants and pulls out his cock in front of her face. She hungrily laps at the precum dripping from his tip. Her tongue licks up and down his length but returns to sucking the head. She keeps swirling it roughly under and all around the surface. His body tenses and jerks in overstimulation, clutching his fists tight to hold still. As she purrs, the vibrations travel down his dick. Eventually, she starts pawing at his balls too.
Simon can’t handle the stimulation, and he comes with a loud groan, hand firmly but carefully grasping her head. As his dick shoots spurt after spurt, she swallows around it, milking even lore from his already heavy load.
vs
Big, scary Simon Riley being desperately submissive to his tinier wife needing her to spray him to mark her territory. He begs her to sit on his face, then he’ll pull her weight all the way down. He eats pussy like a man parched and starving. He makes her cum over and over. Squirming, she can’t hold it anymore, so he slips his fingers inside and crooks them in rough, quick thrusts till she’s showering him in golden liquid. The second she practically falls off, she’s met with the grin of a drenched but sated man. Crazy bastard has a twinkle in his eyes as he licks his lips to get some more of the taste.
who’s just… wild. She makes a hobby of tap dancing on every one of Simon’s frayed nerves. Simon tolerates a lot of her antics. His cards go missing when she wants to go on an exorbitant shopping spree. He’ll fuck, finger, or eat her for hours, till her appetite is sated. He’s covered in scratches and bite marks and traces of liquid from when she insisted on marking him as her property. He’d give in to her whining and pouting in a heartbeat, for just about whatever it is as long as it doesn’t harm her. He turns a deaf ear to her sassing him for no goddamn reason (she just wants him to punish her and loves seeing him wrapped around her little finger). Everyone knows he worships the ground she walks on.
But even Simon has his limits. She’d teasing him for days. She briefly rub against him while passing by. She’d bend over and stretch like cats do— face down, ass up, and tail raised to show her pretty little holes. She’s wearing his shirt, no panties. When he was sitting on the couch with a book or the Telly, she straddle his lap. She’d purr and nuzzle him needily like she was about to go into heat. But the instant he tried to touch her or relieve the strain of his leaking cock, she’d dodge and prance away.
He’d lost it when he caught her— after all that show, dressed in his shirt, on his bed— grinding against Soap’s mouth. Jaw clenched, Simon crosses the room in two strides and pulls her off with one arm. Soap just sits up, face wet and covered in a smug grin.
Fifteen minutes later, she was handcuffed to the bed, with Simon roughly pounding her from behind. Her ass rippled with each thrust, and Simon’s eyes gleamed as he gripped thick handfuls of her soft flesh. She mewled his name, trying to reach behind to grasp him. Her drool pooled against her pillow, and she gulped. Beneath her, Soap’s tongue was working furiously at her clit. Occasionally, he’d slid down to her entrance and try to sneak tastes of Simon’s dick as it moved. Johnny wasn’t allowed to touch himself, nor was he allowed to stop licking no matter how many orgasms she had or how much she begged.
She screamed as Simon bent over her, his arms bracing on either side and his firm chest pressed flush against her back. His length felt so much bigger, and it ground against her sensitive walls. Soap sucked harshly at her clit, making her writhe to get away from all the stimulation. Soap released her clit and traveled lower. He planted kisses along her lips, down to her vagina, all the way till he reached Simon.
Bent over her, Simon’s rim was exposed; and Johnny swiped his tongue along it. Simon jolted, pushing his cock further into her. Johnny grinned and doubled down. He dug his fingers into Simon’s cheeks and pulled them apart to get more access. He sucked and made out with and shoved his tongue into Simon’s hole. She cried out as Simon went wild and fucked her harder. “Just take it.” He grit, his hips a blur as it oscillated between her dripping warm cunt and Soap’s eager mouth, “Wanna be a brat so bad, you can take the consequences.”
Simon pulled her down all the way, impaling her and pressing down on the bulge his tip made. With a loud groan, he climaxed. He spurt so much into her, he could have sworn the bulge grew larger under his fingers. Soap’s pants were soaked as well; he’d orgasmed untouched just by lapping at them and humping the air to relieve the tension.
When Simon finally pulled away, she was already knocked out. Soap hurried to suck the squirt and cum before it dripped out. She jolted at each lap to her sensitive clit.
“Reckon she learned her lesson?” Soap licked his lips and looked down at her sleeping form.
Simon just chuckled darkly. “Nah. Feral cats don’t tame easy.”
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