Fandom Fucker

(Not really proof read, just a silly drabble of little 141)

Price loves his boys. Strong, resilient, and capable, they were a perfect team. And an even better family. They mostly lived together. It was easier than renting out places that you aren't going to be living in during deployment. Price bought a modest farm house on an ache of land. Privacy, room to move and work out.

Room to play. Sure, if someone looked at Price's backyard, they'd be convinced he ran a small day care of 20 very big toddlers. But in reality, he and the boys had spent time building an elaborate playground for them to use when they regressed.

Swings, monkey bars, a small platform that had two slides, and a fireman pole. Price had to do a lot of research, and spent a lot of time tinkering and self testing, managed a small merry go round that could fit all four boys. Of course, the playground was a big hit, but outdoor time was always a given with the regressed boys.

Today, even Gaz was regressed, eagerly helping Roach climb up the platform stairs to the slide. Price watches happily, ready to settle down on his chair under the umbrella when he notices Ghost on his own in the swings. The little one sat alone, everyone more eager to run around and play, but he wanted to swing, wiggling and kicking his legs weakly to get some momentum.

"Oh bub.." Price coos softly under his breath, setting his lemonade down and starting to walk over. "What's going on here, little one?" He asks lovingly, crouching down on front of him. Simon let out a huff, a whine, and his pout pushes his pacifier against his mask. "Ah.. understood. Want me to give you a push?" He offers, smiling softly.

Simon smiles a little, nodding happily and reaching out to rub Price's beard. "Mm! Mmhmm!" He hums, stimming excitedly as his Papa gets up and starts to pull the swings chain back. Simon had spent so much of his childhood, so much of his life, being misunderstood, being left alone, and being told he was a burden when he couldn't communicate.

But now, it was like Price could take one look into his eyes, listen to one hum, and he knew what Simon needed. Price, let's go of the chain, grinning at the squeal Simon let's out as he swings forward. Price is careful not to let him go too high. Sometimes, Simon would accidentally lose grip on the chain, falling out of the swings. So until Price could finish the swings with a seat belt, he was going to stay close to the ground.

He looks over at the play structure, watching Johnny happily climbing around on the moneky bars. He knew he should be worried that he was crawling on all fours above the monkey bars, but there was no point in getting him to stop. If anything, Johnny could fall off, take a small breather, and after a few hugs and kisses, would go back to doing it. As if sensing Price's eyes on him, he looks over and grins.

"Hi Papa!!" He squeals before going back to concentrate on his crawling. Kyle was watching Roach come down the slide, helping the little one back onto his feet when he reached the bottom of the slide.

Simon let's out another happy squeal as he swings, making a small grunt sound that sound like he needed a break. Price holds onto the chains and helps him slow to a start, rubbing his back softly and kneeling beside him. "What's up, button?" He asks softly, Simon hums quietly with a little shrug. "Wanna go play now? Feel ready?" He offers, seeing a little smile from under his balaclava.

"Si! Wanna play?" Johnny asks, standing beside the swing out of nowhere. Price never fails to be amazed how quietly his boys can move, even when regressed. Simon squeaks happily, nodding a little as he climbs to his feet and toddles after the Scott. Price watches with a smile, staring at the scene in front of him before heading back to his chair.

Simon likes ugly toys. That's it that's the fic.

Without fail, whenever anyone decides to eat around baby regardless of what the food actually is, tiny hands are waving in the air asking for some. Without fail, ghost has to gently try and redirect baby in a way that won't induce tears because

Because baby cries over clouds going away and random rocks...this always leads to fat tears and ghost glaring at the perpetrators.

He's about ready to bite you when you, in the middle of chatting with him in the porch, pull out your lunchbox. Sure, you always eat lunch with him on the porch, but baby's had a rough day and you know how baby gets.

Various fruits, some granola, a sandwich. Nothing special, but baby uncurls from his chest to blink curiously at the meal.

"...ahhh. ahb. Ahhh." Baby huffs, tiny fingers spread out and making grabby-hands, nearly toppling out of ghosts arms when he leans further.

"Aw, want a bite?" You ask baby, already pulling out a second container from you lunch, "here, have some. Yeah?"

Baby squeals in delight when you give him a slice of banana, round cheeks red and eyes squinted at his victory.

You...you packed food, just in case baby wanted some.

From there it's like a game. Making a big show of grabbing something "random" from your plate for baby to eat. Every single time baby loves it.

No once does baby cry when you eat around him, always armed with a smaller baby-safe version.

Classification au. Little's, caregivers, and neutral’s/neither. Little's are allowed in the military, but they have difficult tests to prove they can handle it and not regress on a mission.

Classification test is given at 16, during school.

Mainly Ghost centric stories.

Ghost 0-3, Soap 4-6, Gaz 5-7, Price cg, Nik and Laswell sometimes help babysit

Price- mama/papa, Johnny- bubba, Kyle- babba, Simon- baby

Ghost is a clingy, padded little (he struggles with bladder control when small). He's relatively silent, perfectly content holding onto the nearest person. His tantrums aren't like Soap's, biting hitting and scratching being mainly used. Loves blankets and sensory toys.

Soap screams and cries during his tantrums, a typical toddler thing, but he almost always falls asleep 10 minutes later. Soap is an excitable little. He loves his toy trucks and dinosaurs. On the rare occasions that Soap is older than Gaz, he teases him.

Gaz is papa's sweet boy. He loves being the oldest kiddo, cuddling with the baby and keeping Soap busy. His favorite toys are his old army vehicles and men, with a strong hatred for helicopters.

i like the idea that simon would need some form of organized play to get comfortable with sexual intimacy again… relying on the structure of each scene and unlearning bad habits under nikolai’s guidance.. perhaps a part of him finds comfort in being in a mask while also getting to drop the “ghost” facade and not think for a while.

i think simon would fall into some form of codependency in the beginning with it being so out of his depth, but nikolai whips him into shape through being just as stubborn as simon is. ensures that simon knows they are on equal footing and that he can voice his opinion at any time, stop a scene at any time, or just outright decline a session for no reason at all. though don’t get him wrong, nik still very much enjoys having such a strong man drop to his knees with as little as a glance when he forgets his place..

My hand slipped and

Tags: Nsfw, consensual somnophilia for a short moment, Bratting out and spending too much money, dom bear hybrid!Price, dom jaguar hybrid!Valeria, sub hyena hybrid reader, reader has a vagina and a cock, some sort of modern office ish au idk, kinda fighting but not really

☀️☀️☀️☀️

Your ears tipped back as you were dismissed by them, not trying to hide your scowl. A hint of a giggle escaped you even as you growled, turning around on your heel.

A fucking meeting. They promised to eat lunch with you and suddenly “an important meeting” was in the way. They hadn’t even texted you, no, you had already turned up, tail wagging, excited to see your mates. Lowkey horny, hoping for some sort of quickie in the car or somewhere else. Fuck, you had hoped Valeria would had let you eat her out, fully sitting on your face in the backseat of the suv or Price would have let you choke on his cock. Even one of their hands in your pants, you didn’t even care whether it was your cock or pussy they touched. But no - turned away like a toy they didn’t feel like playing with.

It's common knowledge that captive mers, especially ones kept in amusement parks, can experience deteriorated instincts. They lack social skills, hunting abilities, and most importantly reproductive success.

Meaning, when you're transferred into a mer sanctuary, it's expected for you to have trouble bonding. They place you with a formerly wild mer, id-tagged "ghost", as he's very forward. The hope, of course, that you'll be pupped come winter.

You clearly want ghost, you just...don't know what to do, it seems.

"What...surely not." Gaz, your main caretaker, whispers under his breath. Inside the tank, you chase ghost around, webbed hands grabbing at his face only for him to huff and turn away. At first it looks like some strange dominance display, but the longer he looks the more gaz realizes you're trying to kiss ghost.

Of course you learned your mating behaviors from humans. You probably saw enough PDA for it to imprint on you.

A quick consult with his supervisors, and gaz has you laid out in the shallow waters of the observation shelf. You blink up at him all docile, having grown up in similar positions during your husbandry work. You don't thrashi or growl like other mers, comfortable with you snout nudging Gaz's knee, licking at the wetsuit material.

"Okay, runt, let's help you out, yeah?" Gaz hums, signaling ghost over to slide onto the ledge like he would for an exam. "Ghost! Up here!"

It's easy getting you and ghost into the correct position, though it would be more natural for you both underwater. You chirp curiously up at ghost, completely oblivious with no instincts to guide you on how to feel about a mer lying on top and pinning your tail down.

"Okay, ghost, I'm sure you know what to do. Just let me–" gloved hands slip into ghosts slit, pulling his cocks out instead of waiting the extra time for them to emerge. Ghost grumbles a bit, knocking his head against gazs side before focusing back on you as gaz lines him up.

"Here we go." He smiles approvingly at the whine you let out on the first thrust. A bit shocked, a bit blissed out already. "Bet that feels real nice, eh?"

You squirm and chirp more, body wriggling under ghost. Clearly you want to participate, but every attempt to reach for ghosts face earns a corrective nip. Gaz, who had been too focused on ghosts cock rutting into you, didn't have time to react when you reached for him.

"What–! Hey! Mhhp–" a long, slippery tongue forces it's way inside of his mouth, thick and warm. To another mer, if kisses were at all normal, it would feel astonishingly tender. For gaz it feels like being face-fucked.

It shouldn't feel as good as it does, but he can't stop it, not when you decide to go deeper and he really has to focus on breathing through his nose.

Above the both of you, ghost rumbles approvingly. bracketing one arm around you and the other around gaz, he keeps what he now recognizes as two mates close together.

When ghost finally cums, gaz is mortified that the second cock is aimed directly at him. Milt splashing across his wetsuit.

He gets a list of tasks for the week, small goals to check off. Usually things like "take at least two full showers (no, whores baths are NOT showers)" or "eat until you feel satisfied" sometimes even "go sit with your headphones when you feel overwhelmed."

And at the end of the week ghost brings the list to you for appraisal. You go over the things he completed and didnt complete, lightly scolding him when the excuse amounted to "i didn't wanna".

For every check mark he tallies up, thats an orgasm you give him. Yes. Each check mark. Ghost both thrills at the idea whenever he comes back with a full list or dreads it. Usually you start out with a nice messy blow job, get him all desperate and hungry for more before u turn onto ur stomach and let him have at you.

Hes had pup!simon for quiet a while, considers him to be the best trained dog, able to complete all his tasks even with a plug in his ass and a gag in.

The he gets you a nervous little pup, a stray, maybe. You dont have all the experience simon does with being a good pup. So ofc price has simon help you with your training!

He nips at you gently when he notices your posture slipping, pushing you back into position with his snout. Scruffs you and helps price hold you down when u squirm around the knotted toy being shoved into you. Growls warnings at you when he can tell price is losing his patience.

"Mornin' captain." You hum lazily, hand coming down cup ghost over his jeans. The lieutenant makes a strangled sound, but price just nods at you and continues talking. Continues, all while ur very much groping ghost in the public lounge. Sure, its near midnight and everyone should he in bed, but still.

Another hand slips under ghosts shirt to pinch at his nipples, which has ghost audibly whining. You keep him there, in front of his captain while you palm at his dick and grope his ass. Ghost finishes like that, eyes locked onto the amused expression on prices face.

When ur done you lick u fingers clean, give ghosts ass another firm squeeze, then walk away as if nothing ever happens.

Simon Riley, whose moans get louder when you lean further to suck on his fat breeder balls. They’re massive, hanging heavy in your mouth as you rest his dick on your face just to watch him squirm at how big he is against you.

“You like how big you feel, hm? Naughty boy,” you grin up at him, leaning further to slather the underside of his balls with- when Simon suddenly goes stiff. A high whine leaves his lips, eyes shooting open as he darts down to your equally bewildered eyes. Spurts of cum suddenly spurt from his swollen needy tip, all over his own stomach as you pull back to stare.

Your tongue had danced across the rim of his ass. Light, a gentle and quick sensation- apparently he was a quick shot when his ass was involved. Simon looks mortified at himself, desperately starting to apologize- grunting when you shove his hands back down against the couch.

“Love- ‘m sorry, won’t cum again till you do- I- I don’t know what happened-“ he tries to explain, only quieting when you cup his face.

“Simon.” You murmur. “Are you gonna let me eat your ass, or am I gonna have to strap down these pretty little hands of yours?”

simon's never met a brattier thing. eyes wide, nails pressed into your palm like a defiant mutt that thought it might bite back at its owner without consequence. every time you tried to pick a fight, all he saw were little fangs and a temper that needed to be soothed with a pat on the head or fingers stretching out your cunt.

you'd never really gotten along all that well with the brit. he saw you as a sweet little cherry; ripe for the taking as long as you didn't swallow the cyanide pit. he never trusted anyone, anyway—it's not like you were special.

or, rather... you were special to him, in the same way that a doe was to a hunter.

(you were easy prey, if he could get past the sour attitude.)

he hated talking to, but he loved touching you. his body on yours was the cure to the headaches your annoying whining gave him. of course, he knew you were baiting him into this—he wasn't stupid, just addicted.

like today, when you'd texted him at work. not once, not twice... not even five times. a stream of texts had pestered him all day. they'd gotten filthier and filthier until you'd inevitably sent him what you'd be wearing tonight, the sight of it burning into his mind and unfortunately sending his blood flooding south.

so when he stormed in on your apartment door, he was fuming. there you were, glancing up from your couch with a smug smile that made him want to bury your face into the couch and see how deep he'd have to go before you weren't so smug anymore.

"fuckin' testing me, pet? y'think i don't have important work t'do, think all i got time for is paying attention to your bratty little cunt?" his words are scathing as he tugs off his shirt. he's not wasting time—especially since you've asked for it.

"jeez, asshole, not gonna say hi first?" you manage, sitting upright as you prop yourself up on your elbows to watch the flex of his abs.

"we're past introductions, baby. sent me those filthy pictures like a whore, an' you expect me not to treat you like one?"

and fuck, he does. it doesn't take him very long before he has you on his lap, clothes off apart from the lingerie he'd seen in the photos.

(you were a damn sight, like this.)

he grinds you, hands firm against your hips, against his cock until he's throbbing in whatever sweatpants he'd managed to throw on after his quick shower back on base.

while he delights in the sight of your pretty panties, his desire outweighs any kind of preservation. thick fingers tear at it until it snaps, lace fraying and ripping apart. he'll buy you another pair, some day. maybe if you're good.

it doesn't take long for him to shimmy his pants down enough for his cock to slap against your lower belly, twitching with every one of his heartbeats. "gonna stuff you full, fuckin' brat. you send those pictures to other guys? just fuckin' desperate for attention, eh? would let anyone fuck you?"

"no, simon... ngh, just you..." you manage, gripping his biceps for stability. your words are stammered, wilting at the edges—no kind of plea would lessen what he was going to do to you anyway.

simon got off on it, the idea that you only wanted him to touch you like this. he loved the thought that you were his, as bratty as you were. he rewards your words by sliding into you, bottoming out with a groan. his cock is snug against your gummy walls, throbbing every time you shift.

he carves his space into you—your body won't be forgetting this for a long time, if he has any say in it.

the feeling of being so filled up pleases you more than it hurts. you bury your head into his neck, nose pressing up against the thick of his muscle. but like the brat you are, you can't seem to stop yourself. against his neck, you mumble, "is it in yet?"

there's a moment where simon freezes completely. his hands move to your thighs reflexively, giving a harsh squeeze. he doesn't look happy with you, but what did you expect?

he flips the two of you over, pulling out and pinning you into the soft cushion of the couch and leering over you. "you're lucky i'm this hard. would've spanked your poor li'l cunt till she cries f'me. maybe next time, huh?"

he doesn't wait for your to adjust again when he slides back in. he starts a brutal pace, the thick of his cock slipping against your insides while he grunts his pleasure into your ear. "feel it yet, luv?"