#cod x dragons

[witchthewriter]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞 & 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬

a/n: crossover that I really wanted to do. I've used dragons from every timeline.

gif cred: @gameofthronesdaily.

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

I wanted to make this as simple as possible, so I'm not going into backgrounds or Houses or the wheres, whos and whys. But if you'd like me to make backstories for them, let me know in my inbox!

(but p.s. I can already see Kyle being a Velaryon Prince and Simon a Targaryen because of their natural features.)

𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐞 | 𝑴𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒚𝒔

There's something very regal about John - he holds himself with dignity and grace. He walks with pride and knows his rank/his place. Because he's earnt it.

Meleys, who was once known as the quickest dragon in Westeros, also holds herself the exact same way John does.

She is the Red Queen, vicious, fierce and unyielding. She is royalty - looks it too.

I'm not quite sure she'd like a male rider - there would have to be a lot of winning her over. All her other riders have been female, and very bold. Yet, when Meleys saw the bravery of John, she allowed him to mount her.

But the two of them together would be an absolute force to be reckoned with. Intelligence mixed with tactics, and planning - they would soon become one of the most feared rider and mount in history.

𝐊𝐲𝐥𝐞 𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 | 𝑺𝒊𝒍𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈

Known by a lot of positive traits, the first one being: understanding her responsibilities. Silverwing is the perfect dragon.

Great with people, friendly, and elegant. She knows when eyes are on her.

In the same way that Kyle can make a friend wherever he is. People find him very charming.

Both are great at socialising. This reflects how a dragonrider usually has similar traits to their mount.

Know their duties, but also know when enough is enough. They don't let others walk all over them.

𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐑𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐲 | 𝑽𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓

Ooh boy, okay so these two bonded over being grumpy and moody.

While Vermithor used to be the mount of one of Westerosi's greatest Kings, I think he would like Simon a whole lot more.

Simon, who would never make him do anything Simon wouldn't do himself.

Both of them hate too much company.

And the only way to truly get away from people is in the air.

Vermithor might be considered an old man, but he's still got that passion within him, and damn anyone who says what he can and cannot do

The pair could be gone for weeks. Only relying on one another for company, aiding each other in getting food and Vermithor being wonderful at finding bodies of water.

Although they do usually go to the same places now.

Sometimes Simon forgets how formidable Vermithor is - and that in the past anyone who approached him would burn to death by his flame.

But really Simon only sees a big lizard with wings who snores when he sleeps and grunts when he's angry. Oh, and watch out for his tail because he will try to knock you over when he's irritated.

𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐜𝐓𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐡 | 𝑴𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒙𝒆𝒔

Let's gather what we know about Soap: intelligent (obviously, no one in the army reaches that level by being a complete tosser), he's active and ready to be in the field i.e, now the air.

Meraxes is known for being an avid flyer. Her first and only rider, Rhaenys the First, flew her mount so much - some say it was the collective amount of both her brother and sister riding their own beasts.

Johnny is the dragonrider who is constantly scowering for dragon eggs. If he finds them, he cares for them like they're his own children.

Johnny would literally be the Father of Dragons. Would 100% do a Dany and walk into fire to see if the eggs will hatch (don't worry the other boys look out for him and Meraxes would never let him be so stupid as to willingly hurt himself.)

If you have a different opinion I'm more than happy to hear it!

[yandere-kokeshi]

Warnings: yandere behavior, slight NSFW

Yandere! Dragon-Price does things to me, like, oh my god

He hates smelling people on you. It's in his nature to be possessive, keeping his valuables safe — which includes you. He curls his tail around your body, huffing out gray smoke when he notices people are looking at you. He fucking hates it. He wants to kill anyone who stares at you. But who is he to judge? You're perfect. It's an absolute ruby he's collected and said it's mine. It's only a matter of seconds before a few hickeys are stuck on your neck and his chucking at your flustered face.

He's so gentle around you that it is so funny. His claws barely put pressure, scared of hurting you or even scarring your pretty skin. But when he's ramming into you, he marks your skin accidentally; bruises or cuts, which he ends up patching later as an apology.

He loves putting his face between the area around your neck and shoulder — smelling your scent and inhaling it. Most of the time, he's doing it from behind.

Or how he purrs when he's happy like a cat. It's low, an almost hum that comes from his stomach. But it's enjoyable, especially if it's at night and it's the first time sleeping with him after he kidnapped you.

Like the post above, it's in his nature to keep things or so say collects things. Pretty things, just like you. And that, he loves to collect items he thinks you'll love. Jewelry, pillows, blankets, and even rocks he found on his missions.

If you thank him with a huge smile, you can see his pointed ears turn light pink as his tail swings left-to-right in a happy mood.

His wing and horns are extremely sensitive. And it doesn't mean to be — when touching the bone of his wing, especially where it comes out of his back, he hisses as if he's in pain; but the obvious boner and panting is what gives it away.

Same with his horns, they're great on holding — either when you're on his shoulders as he shuffles around, or when you're on top and need something to hold your life onto.

Lastly, his teeth. His damn, sharp teeth. He gets annoyed with them, sometimes growls when he accidentally bites his lip, yet again, when eating. But they're territorial– using them as a weapon when he feels threatened.

He hisses when he smells you in fear, hissing out whilst his eyes turn into predatory slits. He just protects what's rightful his, even if he needs to be covered in blood.

[dante-mightdie]

omg you killed me with the dragon!price and his hoard + Blue collar Simon.

I literally can't breathe. pussy so wet it's a waterpark *faints*

I would love more of dragon!price and his pets pretty please if u have the time and energy. if not totally okay, love u so so much 💙

- 💙🐨

this has been in my inbox for so long but i’ve missed dragon!price <3

c/w: themes of kidnapping, smut

ugh, to be this grumpy old dragons favourite pretty princess who lives on a pile of treasure. spending all your time with your playthings that john snatched up to keep you company when he’s away pillaging villages for treasure :(

simon, johnny and kyle aren’t exactly happy to be here with you. but they get to play with your body all day long so there definitely are worst fates out there awaiting them. so they indulged all your fantasies. passing your holes around to tire you out so you don’t keep bothering price whilst he hibernates

that dragon spoils you rotten. coming back and dumping piles of gold and jewels into your lap, presenting fashionable dresses from the high end seamstress of whatever town he robbed and fancy wine for you and your boys to drink

sometimes he gets them things too. fancy swords for your pretty knight kyle, hammers and tools for your blacksmith johnny, and leather gloves for your bandit simon. and sometimes he asks them to thank him by getting on their knees and sucking his big cock :(

his favourite form of relaxation comes in the form of you in his lap, snuggled up to him whilst he purrs and huffs out smoke from his nose. your soft hands running over every inch of muscle and the leathery spine of his wings as his hands pet over your hair <3

[fragileheartbeats]

"he's insane-"

HE JUST NEED LOVE STFU BITCH!!!

[diejager]

Imagine that the hybrid 141 was getting a teammate and that teammate was a hybrid and Laswell wanted it to be a surprise for the team what they are as in hybrid was and soon as they get off the aircraft and onto the tarmac, the boys realize that they’re with another dragon hybrid and her “heat” would be soon upon her (dark blue in to black better for stealth or, whatever you prefer, she also has her wings) how would the boys handle that you can take the story anyway you want 

This… I might make it self-indulging because this idea has been clawing at the back of my mind for a long while. Cw: mating/heat cycle, fire/water magic, tell me if I missed any.

Laswell had Price wait for the surprise she had planned, the secret she kept from them when they received your file. It had all he asked for in attributes and skills, but all things personal that should have been on it were scratched out in black. He was told that it was a need to know basis, your name, age or species wouldn’t be divulged unless you told them yourself. He knew you from words from mouth to ear, ad read of your skill and efficiently but nothing he heard and found told him an ounce about you as a person. Your character was a mystery he died to know.

So when he got word from Laswell that your ETA was just over half an hour, he had the boys reconvene to the airstrip, watching the aircraft carrying you land not too far from them, the rotors slowing to a steady thrum. The anticipation that bubble din his chest made this moment crawl at a snail’s pace, the ramp lowering too slowly for his liking and the droning sound of the aircraft’s irking his ears. Then, seconds after the ramp fully dropped, he caught sight of blue horns, tines growing from a singular robust beam, segmented like those of a scale. Your head, covered by a custom made helmet to let your antlers peek out and sit comfortably on your head (at least you wore something, unlike his constant frustration with finding one that wouldn’t bother his horns), followed after you walked out, decked in your gear and a bag slung over your shoulders. 

You weren’t what he was expecting, not exactly. He read that you had a masterful experience in hydromancy, stealing water from the air and humidity and contorting it to cause havoc in the field and cutting through the enemy. He and the others shared their theories, one possibility made you into a water witch, a leviathan, or one of those creepy monsters from the deep sea. Not what… whatever you were. You had elk-like horns painted in the deepest blue he’d ever seen and a tail covered in scales of the same shade, glistening under the light like it was wet with tufts of hair - or was it fur? - crawling down the base of your fourth limb to create a silky and soft end with long, slowing locks. 

What were you? What was that smell? It got sweeter the closer you got, a softness that clung to his nose and made him salivate. He wondered how strong it must be for the Soap and König who’s noses were more enhanced and sensitive than any others, they’d probably sniff the source - you - out and answer his undying question.

“Captain Price,” you nodded your head, a small smile gracing your lips, your slitted eyes narrowed in greeting, “Hope I didn’t make you wait too long.”

That sweetness lingered around you and stuck to his hand when you shook hands, giving him a firm shake and stronger grip that he could admire for the strength you showed. Had you face been as bright as it was a few seconds before? Perhaps it was the musk that oozed off you, it was uneasily addicting and pleasing to his lizard brain, slowly moving the cogs of hos old machine. He watched you take a step back, making some distance between his Task Force and you, and his mind got clearer, nose less stuffy and cheeks wash away the slight flush. Then it hit him, the sweetness, the dazed perception of you and the growing need in his body, he was reacting to you. 

“Sorry, I was told I’d be off for the week once I landed,” you cocked your head, sharing an apologetic smile, “My cycle follows the Lunar year.”

Ah, everything made more sense now, the gracefulness of your beautiful tail, the glistening of your scales and the sharpness of your horns. He had agreed to welcome another dragon to his Task Force, he was fortunate that Asian dragons were calmer and benevolent than his European counterpart. 

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami

[qilinxingg]

Imagine being filled to the brim by a dragon!Price.

John was in heat, completely lost in the excruciating heat and primitive desire to fill you with his brood. Unlike the human body, which can only carry one child at a time, dragons can expel about five eggs at once!

This thought was able to make both of his draconic penises throb against his painfully tight trousers. All he needed was to feel their hot, tight inner walls pressing deliciously against his two needy cocks. Or when the two tips popped lightly on his belly, indicating how deep his thrusts were going. How much he was tearing you apart.

Your naughty whimpers that called his name as tantalisingly as if it were a prayer. One that only he would hear.

John would mark your body completely with his fangs, paying special attention to your most sensitive spots - he was a gentleman, after all. His claws raked and scratched at her tiny waist, which was almost as big as his firm, calloused hands.

And your pussy would be fully stimulated. With his long, draconic tongue, John would explore your aroused, throbbing clit, and with all the kinky sensations you'd feel, he'd get you all worked up and let out a lusty moan that would slowly increase your hunger. Then he would let it fully penetrate your insides, thrusting in and out of you with deep, wet thrusts.

And finally, when you were ready to receive him - that is, after you had already cummed at least three times - John would let his two big cocks enter you, one after the other.

The captain would delight in the whimpering, quivering pleas that left his pink mouth. Then John would kiss and lick your salty tears and say softly, "I know you can do it, Princess," or "Who's my good girl?".

You screamed when the dragon moved, feeling your whole pussy burn with pain and pleasure. But with a few more thrusts, John could see you moaning loudly and begging for more of him.

And to increase your pleasure, the captain would use his thick tail and rub it constantly against your clitoris, so that you would lose yourself completely in pleasure.

And like the good gentleman he is, he would stop restraining himself and fuck your tight little pussy as if it were his personal toy. John would lower his mouth and speak softly in her ear, "A good girl for me to use as a toy for my cum. Is that what you are, dear?", and also, "Imagine you are full of my eggs, with my clutch. Completely full. Bloody hell, doll, you would look so pretty with my sperm running down your thighs, don't you think?"

And when Price finally came, his little belly would swell, and he would make sure that not a drop of his sperm was wasted. If necessary, he would push it in.

John could already imagine you stuffed full of your eggs and how easy it would be to make you a quivering, gasping wreck because it was so exhausting to carry such a heavy belly.

He couldn't have been prouder.

For now, however, the dragon would be content with that thought.

Oh, but when you come home.

There was no escape.

You're salvation to satisfy your hunger. John would reduce you to completely lost and nothing more than a crying, completely broken mess.

Not even if it meant you couldn't walk again for a long time.

maybe I'll make a fanfic about this, dragon!price is such a masterpiece

[eldritcmor]

IDEA!! You know how in most legends and myths involving dragons there’s often a hoard the dragon is protecting? What if the 141 was the hoard of someone (or something) not entirely human. They masquerade as a human and fight alongside the 141 but they’re insanely protective of them and have dragon like abilities. Heat and smoke never seem to bother them. Sometimes the 141 can see the shimmer of scales out of the corner of their eye but when they turn to check it out all they see is their “human” teammate. Maybe they have reptile like tendencies and prefer to have meals alone because they’re “insecure” about their eating habits (they’re actually eating nonhuman food like raw meat or something). Idk, I just really like the idea of the 141 being oblivious to a monster in their midst. Also I really REALLY like dragons

Gaz looked up as the sharp screech of twisting metal met his ears. The guard at his door poked his head out to see what was happening only to jerk and slump, a rather large piece of rebar right between his eyes. Gaz did not want to meet whatever the fuck did that and so scooted the chair he was tied to as far back into the shadows as he could. He tried to keep his breathing even but as the steady clomp of boots on metal grew closer, he couldn't cut it. A hand curled around the door frame and for a second, Gaz would forever swear he saw gleaming copper claws. He blinked and suddenly you were in front of him. Kneeling low as you confidently cut through the rope around his ankles.

"Breathe Sergeant. I got you." Gaz practically melted at the familiar rumble of your voice. He let out the breath he didn't know he had been holding as you moved to the bindings on his chest. Then he was confused.

"It's good to see you lieutenant, but how did you get here?"

You hummed as you finished cutting through his bindings and hauled Gaz to his feet. While there wasn't really any major damage that you could see, you still didn't like finding him like this.

"I called in a favor from an old friend. For all intents and purposes, this was never sanctioned. Now before you go thinking too hard, the others did try to come as well. Unfortunately, they got placed under the equivalent of house arrest by Shepherd. Now come on, our ride is waiting."

Gaz rolled the information over in his mind as you led him through the little facility. Everywhere he looked was some form of evidence of a fight. It looked like something had absolutely ripped through their defences.

--

Ghost startled as he entered the little kitchen of their current base. It was incredibly late at night and he hadn't expected anyone to be awake. You were sitting on the counter, ripped open package of red meat in one hand and a piece of meat midway to your mouth. Ghost raised an eyebrow and you slowly lowered the little chunk back into the tray.

"is this why you never eat with us?" Your fellow lieutenant asked as he grabbed a mug from one of the cupboards. You have a little noncommittal shrug as you set aside your dinner. Ghost popped the mug into the microwave and pulled out a few teabags.

"No need to stop on my account, lieutenant." The microwave beeped and ghost retrieved his mug before plopping the teabags in and promptly exiting the kitchen.

--

Soap raised an eyebrow as you stripped off your jacket and bundled it into your pack. The team was visiting Farah and the desert heat was harsh on all of them. Even Price had taken refuge under the nearest shade cloth. You however just seemed to be perfectly fine in the heat. He thought the heat was finally getting to you. That is until you climbed up on huge flat rock, laid in direct sunlight and promptly fell asleep. You were fucking basking while the rest of the team was baking in the sun. Soap stomped over, sun be damned, and climbed right up beside you. He purposely blocked the sun as he kneeled next to you and raised his hand to slap down in the dead center of your back. That is until your hand shot out and easily caught his wrist. You two briefly wrestled for a minute or two before soap yelped as you scooped him up over your shoulder and carried his ass back over to the others. Farah laughed as you deposited Soap right at Price's feet. A simple no left your mouth in a sort of grumbling growl as you went back to your rock. Soap pouted in the shade but didn't move to try again, as Price handed him a canteen of water.

--

Price watched from the door as you wrestled against Ghost, with Soap and Gaz sitting on the side. You two were dirty fucking fighters. Anytime Ghost flipped you on your back, you'd yank him by his mask or shirt to the side. Anytime you'd flip him on his back, he'd take his nails down any piece of exposed flesh in order to get you to rear back and topple. Price thought it was like watching two feral ass badgers fighting. He decided to intervene when Ghost pinned you and his fingers were just a hair too close to your mouth. Your fangs were on display.

"That's enough boys!" He watched in amusement as You and Ghost scrambled to your feet. "Go clean up, all of you. We got a briefing in twenty. Except you, Drake. I need to talk to you." The rest of the squad exited the training room. Price could practically feel the gossip spinning in their heads.

Price turned to you once the team was down the hall and out of earshot. "We need to talk about that little trip you took."

You tilted your head to the side in confusion. "Little trip, sir?"

"The one you took while the rest of us were under house arrest. The one where you somehow returned with the single missing member of this task force."

You simply hummed, a noncommittal sound, as you tapped your wrist. Price shook his head at your silent question. "Ah my most recent leave. What's the issue?"

Price sighed. "Unfortunately, the higher up want to know how Gaz returned." Price grabbed your shoulder and pulleed you down to his height. "You were not involved in anyway, clear?"

You groaned as the grip on your shoulder tightened. "Loud and clear, sir."

"Good man, now get. I'm sure the others are wondering what kind of ass chewing you just got." Price watched as you walked out the room, defeat lining your shoulders. Good, no need to trouble anyone else with your little rescue mission. Price glanced down at his hand. He hadn't meant to grab you that hard but he had to get the point across. There was a red lined imprint of scales in the center of his palm.

[yeyinde]

WICKER PYRE | Dragon!Price x Reader

All things considered, you should have expected it. You know better than to make deals with dragons.

WARNINGS: 18+ | light smut—no descriptions of anatomy used for the reader; possessive undertones; dragon trickery; blink and you'll miss it Celtic Dragon mythology and folklore WORD COUNT: 1,5K NOTES: They tempted me with hellfire and pretty imagery, so. Here we are.

It smells of biochar, pyrolysis. The incendiary heat sparks to life around you; a thick, impenetrable wall of stifling warmth, and you blink through the haze, the heat mirage, that swims in front of your eyes, trying to clear the clouds from your vision. 

It's hot. 

Hellfire. Inferno. Absolute. 

Paradoxically, it edges into dry heat—wildfires: burning forests, charred logs, crumbling charcoal, ashes—but your skin is drenched in sweat; sticky, tacky. Hot springs. Lavascape. 

You're drowning in Phlegethon, hands clawing at molten skin to stay afloat. 

"Shush, shush—"

It's a wheezing rasp. A rumble that rebounds against the carverous, limestone walls and echoes in your ears. The vibrations of it rattle through your chest and dislodge the panic from between your ribs. 

"Easy, now."

Despite the smoked-cured softness of the voice above you, around you, in you, it booms through your marrow; the sudden shift of the plates. A tectonic shockwave that bludgeons into you. 

"Can't—" you start, words a desperate, aching whine. "Can't—John—it's so hot—!"

His answer is a grunt; a rolling, monstrous sound that shivers across your skin. It's easy, with his front pressed against your back, his words hissed into your crown, to forget that he isn't a man. That his body is made of the valleys: carved from chiselled andesite, graphite, and limestone. Coursing through his veins is ichor and brimstone, fed from the burning pyre inside his chest that blooms tuffs of smoke, and reeks of ash. 

He quiets you with another low pur, and feeds the tips of his steel claws into your flesh, anchoring you tight to his body.

And then you hear the fire-painted voice speak from between his nicotine fangs: "I know." 

And you suppose he would. 

Molten blood. Igneous skin. His voice is Pyroclastic: tephra falling from his heaving chest. 

With the exception of his pointed, angular claws, his hands almost look human. Almost. 

But when they grip your hips tight, the skin of his palms feels too thick. Too velveteen. Like the soft underbelly of a reptile.

Those claws hold you steady as he slides the full, burning length of himself into you. The blunt press of his cock splitting you apart, and the rasp of his knuckles, rough with blackened osteoderms protruding from his thick skin, makes you shiver. It feels like sandpaper when it prickles over your flesh. 

You try to gasp but the oxygen in the room is swallowed by the flames. Try to move but his weight on your body is a plutonic ash bed. A prison. 

Jewels and gems nip at your skin when you ramble to find purchase on the treasure trove of his nest, to find something to hold onto while your body is slowly consumed by the unrelenting heat of him stretching you into a shape you do not recognise. 

"Tryna run?" He mocks. "Thought you could handle it, mm? Wasn't that our deal? Do you know what happens to little humans who try to break their promises?"

You want to bite back something scathing, something dripping in venom and cruelty, but the words are ground into peat salt when he presses the full weight of himself onto you, using the momentum to snap his hips harder, faster, than he was before. 

(You swear, swear, you feel the white-hot tip of him digging harshly into your sternum.)

But he's merciful—to a degree—and his hand lifts, drops in front of your nose, claws gleaming in the flames that surround his den, his prison, his home. 

You take in the sight of his heat-scorched skin—a chromosphere of living magma: blistering red dusted with fine ash. It's pretty. Stunning. You're mesmerised by the ripples of fire running in thick rivulets beneath his carbonised pelt, and you know, then, why he's so sought after. Respected. Feared. 

(Who would try and run afoul around a man, a being, a beast, who has hellfire burning in his veins?)

The brief respite splinters when he shifts forward, pushing himself as deep into your body as he can possibly go, and the world around you lists sharply on its axis when he pulses, branding you from the inside out, turning your body into a magma chamber that only fits him—

You can't breathe—haven't been able to since you rocked up to the smouldering cavern on the side of a mountain, and demanded he make a deal with you. It's hard to acclimate to the carbon-rich air that thrums around you like a thick curtain of plasma, threatening to consume you whole. 

"Easy, now, pretty thing," he purrs again and the deep rumble that spills from his expansive chest seems to glue to each bone in your body, reverberating deep within your liquifying marrow.

His elbow falls, chin presses into your crown. He breathes you in, and the world around you shudders, and ripples like the glimmering sea of a heat haze. An optical illusion. A mirage. But one that flexes around you like water; moulding to your body, and filling in all the crevasses and canyons until the plasmic air clings to your skin. 

Smoke billows with his exhale. You scent charred tobacco leaves, brimstone, crushed granite, and burning rock—sharp and acrid. The smell sticks to the back of your throat and colours your lungs in a fine layer of rock dust.

The world around you shakes when he growls into your crown, nose pressed tight to your sweat-slicked skin. 

It feels like an earthquake rattling inside of you, shaking loose the paper-thin threads of sanity that keep you still beneath his bulk.

"Ah, John—"

His forearm slides closer to your gasping mouth, and you scent guncotton on his skin. Thick. Heady. It makes your head swim, and a fever bloom in your veins. 

"There," he huffs into your hair, and the plume of his voice heats the world around you by several degrees. "Now you have something to hold on to, love." 

His voice is pinched with something that sounds mockingly cruel, mordant, but there's a softness in the way he holds you close; a tenderness that biles the roughness of his hands, the sharp drag of his claws against your flesh. 

"Now," he continues, hand tightening on your skin hard enough to bruise your tremulous bones. "Be good, and let me fuck you." 

With that, he snaps forward until he's once buried to the hilt. Fangs prickle across your shoulder blade when he lowers his maw to your skin. Each heavy exhale through his nose leaves a scorching mark over your flesh until it's blistered and raw. 

He sets a brutal pace, and each time he sinks in deep, you feel something inside of you splinter, break. It's unlike anything, anything, you'd ever felt before—a liquid pleasure and pain that melts together into burning heat. It feels like euphoria and punishment in the same breath: an equilibrium of salvation and condemnation.   

Each growl that leaves his heaving chest shakes the cobwebs from between your ribs, and fills them with ash and smoke. It seeps into your bloodstream, poisoning you with each harsh stroke. 

(You forgot that he was poisonous—)

But it's too late. 

Lost in the delirious cloud of heat, ozone, and John, all you can do is wrap your tiny hands around the thick of his forearm, nails barely leaving a mark on his thick pelt, and cling to him as he takes what you offered with greedy claws, and gluttonous eyes, pounding you into his bed of furs, and stolen gems and gold. Treasure toppled to the ceiling of the cavern they warned you to stay away from. The precious clutch of a monster who protects his wares with fire and madness. Raining wrath and fury, white-hot rage and red-hot desperation, down on anyone who dares to get close. 

It's too much, too much, but you knew what you were getting into when you tried to barter with him.

("Let's make a deal—"

And he'd said, "you must be desperate. Don't you know what I am—"

His noctilucent eyes burned in the dark. 

Mocking. Cruel. Hungry.)

All you can do now is hope, somehow, that you make out in a single piece. That all your vibrating atoms stay whole; intact. That you don't lose yourself inside the madness of heat, and burning fire. 

That you'll make it out, alive.

—if, of course, he lets you go—

But those hopes are dashed when his molten tongue flickers out, laving a burning path across your neck. 

"You'll look so good in all my gold," he snarls, a thundershock right into your core. 

And then he sinks his fangs into your neck. 

You should have known from the start when he looked at you with hunger, rapacious greed in his keen, sharp eyes that you were not leaving his den again. 

(The most precious piece in his hoard.)

Your body is a wicker pyre made to be burned. From the charred ashes, something new will rise. A phoenix trapped in the paws of a beast who likes pretty, shiny things, and will never let go. 

(And really, what else did you expect when you decided to tempt a dragon?)

[phantasmagoriatime]

So it's the Dragon!Ghost Was trying to add the scars, but then it would be too many details, so without scars this time And then I was like What is he looking at at his horn??? that's how lil bird!soap was added

[hihhasotherfixations]

Wedded - Dragon! John Price x Reader | Chapter 1

When you are mistaken by a dragon as his promised bride, you unexpectedly need to learn how to live with your new husband. After all, the dragon made a deal, and he wants his end of the bargain - you.

Current | Next Chapter

The results of the poll were clear. Dragon Price is first to come up and be written. This was also the only option who’s fic had multiple chapters sooo, woop woop! Hope you all enjoy :3

CW: f!reader, dragon Price, violence in future chapters

Word Count: 3028

Walking into the town, your eyes curiously looked around, an excitement blooming inside you – one you always found yourself in any time you got to a new part of the land, finding cities and villages you never knew existed.

This time, you’d made it to a village just south of the roaring mountains. A range that spanned the border of the land near the east. It was a relatively small village, and as you walked through to the marketplace, you immediately became aware of how close-knit the community was, as everyone seemed to know everyone.

Making you stick out like a sore thumb.

Still, your travels hadn’t gotten you this far if that was something that scared you off. And without further thought, you stepped up to one of the market brokers. The man was a botanist, obviously, selling herbs and wildflowers, your keen eyes curiously scanning around.

“Hello, madam!” The vendor perked up, giving you a once over, noting the large bag slung over your shoulder, as well as the leather-wrapped stick you were leaning on. “New to town?”

“Good morning.” You smiled politely. “Yes I am. It’s very nice.” You said, though as you looked around, it was evident that a scuffle had recently taken place. Broken wood and scorch marks riddling the buildings around.

“Can I help you find anything?” He asked, that typical salesman smile on his face.

Giving a small smile back, you shook your head. “No, I’m just looking for now.” You declined.

As you perused, you recognised most of the man’s wares. Within your own bag that was currently slung over your shoulder, you kept several exact specimens like the ones laid out before you.

After all, you’d been collecting them.

For the last three years, you’d been scouring the land, finding and testing herbs and wildflowers for their potencies and effects. What was once a hobby had become your life, with you abandoning your old one in the process. Yet not a day passed where you regretted your newfound freedom.

“Say, you seem very knowledgeable in this.” The vendor suddenly spoke up and you glanced at him, tilting your head in curiosity. Seeing that, the man explained. “Your eyes zero in on the rarer plants and skip over the common ones. Not many know them like I do.” He complimented.

“Oh, yes.” You smile. “I’m… well, a researcher. I’m writing a field guide on the plants of this continent and their effects.” You said, slight pride in your voice. Though it wasn’t a secret per se, saying it out loud was not something you often did. But giving the man’s profession, you figured it was worth a shot. “I’m looking for some rarer plants and I must ask, what is this one?” You questioned, pointing at a flower to the right. It had white, pointed petals that slowly turned blue the closer it got to the core, yellow spore marking the centre while the stem and leaves itself were green. Nothing like you’d ever seen before.

“That? Oh, that is a mountainscale lily.” He smiled, picking up the dried specimen. “Very rare. Found only in caves high up in the mountains.” As he said that, he turned and pointed to the looming mountain behind the village.

“I’ve never seen them before.” You mused, leaning in to get a better look.

“They’re native to this region. Only grow under very specific circumstances.” He explained and you nodded, curious.

“Is this in a place I could reach?” You questioned, making the vendor frown.

“I would not advise-“ “Ah! Hold on!” A woman suddenly interrupted, sliding in beside the merchant, her hand on his arm. The man looked a little startled, glancing at her in confusion, to which the woman nudged her head in your direction with an easy smile. “Look at the lady, she’s well equipped! Don’t be underestimating her now.” She teased, bumping her hip into his before squeezing his arm to get his attention and sending him a pointed stare, one you felt you shouldn’t be witnessing. At it, the man glanced from her to you – who was standing there confused – before grunting as he looked away from you, muttering under his breath.

Confused, you turned to the woman who turned to face you while smiling wide.

“Sorry about that. I couldn’t help but overhear.”

“That’s… okay.” You hummed, shifting your hiking stick to your other hand, a little put off by her sudden appearance. “So, am I correct in saying you think I could get to where the flowers grow?” You questioned, the woman seeming to light up.

“I am positive! In fact, I would like to ask to make a deal with you. Hire you, if you will.”

That was both intriguing and concerning at the same time. Anyone could take one glance at you and see you weren’t exactly a mercenary for hire.

“Darla, no-“ The man started, placing his hand on her shoulder, but the woman just shrugged it off.

“Hush now, I’m sure it will be no problem.” She smiled, keeping her eyes on you, to which the man grabbed her elbow, forcefully turning her to face him.

“Don’t. This is our problem. We must bear the consequences.” He said pointedly, but Darla scoffed and yanked her arm free.

“We have a perfectly capable young woman here.” She spoke, glaring at him.

“I’m sorry, what’s going on?” You asked, confused and before the man could say anything, Darla stepped in.

“These flowers. They have a healing capability. About a month ago, our village was raided and our supply stolen.” She spoke, a resentment sounding in her voice. “It was supposed to last us through the winter but now new flowers need to be plucked. The problem is that gathering them requires skill and knowledge. No one but my husband can do it, but he injured his leg during the raid and hasn’t been able to make the trip.” She said while gesturing to him.

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear.” You frowned in sympathy, looking at the vendor who had a defeated look, sitting down on his stool behind his stall. When looking around at the village, the evidence of a scuffle was clear. And not a small one. Not only were there the ruins and scorch marks around you, some houses were even burned down on the outskirts – which you’d seen when coming into town.

“Listen.” The man spoke up, catching your attention again. “The mountains aren’t easy to traverse, especially with an injury. It’s not a safe road. Think about this.” He warned, looking at his plants, avoiding your eyes.

Your brows creased together in thought as you then looked at the woman. “So… what is it you want?”

Darla perked up, her eyes landing on you before turning pleading as she walked around the stall, grasping your hands and holding them up between you and her. “We will tell you how to find the flowers. And in return, I beg you to retrieve a satchel full of them for our village. We cannot survive winter without them.”

Blinking in surprise, you looked from her, down to the pressed flower laying on the wood of the stall. You’d never heard of a flower which had capabilities such as that. 

“I-“ You glanced up at her again. Her hand was holding yours tightly.

“You can take this one for free.” She then quickly spoke, grabbing the pressed flower and pushing it into your hand.

Frowning, you looked down at it, briefly studying the colours and make before sighing, looking at the vendor again, who was still looking down. While the thought of a flower having such potent capabilities was hard to believe - not without it having some sort of addicting feature – the opportunity to study it was too good to pass up. “Okay.”

At your simple word, Darla lit up, grinning wide, though it was almost scary as she then turned to her husband and hugged him. “We’re going to be alright!” Before you could say anything, she moved back over to you, gripping your shoulders. “You will save every young maiden in our village from a terrible and ill fate.”

Letting out a bit of a confused chuckle, you leaned back a bit. “Why, does the flower not affect men?”

At that, Darla cackled a laugh – a surprisingly pleasant sound.

“Come, let me give you a map and explain how to get there.” She smiled, placing her hand on your backpack, gently pushing you with her, leading you across the market.

And in the haste of her offering you a place to stay at her impressively lavish two-story house, food, a map into the mountains and all the instructions that came with it, you failed to realise that the herbal vendor never came to the house, nor that neither him or Darla wore wedding rings.

- - - -

Leaning on your stick, you paused at the edge of the trail, huffing and puffing.

Since the early hours of dawn you’d been walking, resting periodically to make sure you’d be fit to continue.

According to Darla, the hike to the nearest cave containing the wildflowers was ten hours – on top of the hour you’d already travelled by horse together with the woman.

She had been incredibly helpful, sticking close to you and repeatedly thanking you for being willing to do this. Hell, it almost felt like she was glued to your hip until the moment you reached the foot of the mountain, where she was all too eager to send you off on your way, taking the horses back home.

Not that you blamed her.

Walking over to the rocky face of the mountain, you leaned against it, staying away from the trail’s edge, not to keen to fall down it. Shifting down to sit, you pulled your backpack off your back, digging in to get your journal where you flicked to the most recent entry.

Opening the page, you carefully picked up the pressed mountainscale lily, turning it in your hand. Before parting ways with Darla, you’d asked her many questions about the flower’s properties. She’d seemed a little flustered, almost unwilling to talk about it.

Glancing down at your notes, you pulled out the charcoal pencil from the spine of your journal, drawing a line down from the drawing you made of the flower.

Hunching forward, you scribbled a single word before a loud thud suddenly echoed through the forest down below, making you snap your head up, looking over the sea of orange-leafed trees before you. Far in the distance, birds rose to the air, making you hum curiously.

Glancing back down at the journal, you placed the flower back between the pages before closing the book, getting back to your feet again, ready to pass the next few hours mulling over your new hypothesis, that one word echoing in your mind.

‘Addictive?’

- - - -

Pulling your coat tightly around yourself, you shivered, tying the strings directly under your chin. Even with the sun shining fully in the sky, the air was frigid – a cause of both the height you were walking at, as well as the nearing of winter.

You’d long since pulled out your woollen hat, keeping yourself as warm as possible, your hands feeling like ice.

Holding your map tight, your eyes glanced from the parchment and up the trail you were currently on. It was small, a goat’s path more than anything and one misstep would result in you plummeting down onto rocks far below.

Yet as you looked right, you couldn’t help but be in absolute awe by the view.

As far as your eyes could see, the forest stretched. Along the way, a wide river shimmered in the slowly setting sun, everything bathed in a gorgeous light, enhancing the golden leaves of the autumn trees. If you weren’t at threat of losing the light, you’d have sat down to draw it.

Looking back at the map, you breathed out, exhausted. Your feet hurt, every step making you question whether or not this was worth all the hassle. Yet as you grasped onto the brittle rock on your left and rounded the bend, you saw it.

A large opening sat in the side of the mountain, a plateau in front of it providing plenty of space. The cave opening alone must have been the size of nearly two houses beside each other.

And about ten meters in front of you, you saw it.

A mountainscale lily gently flowed back and forth in the breeze, the petals gently moving.

Firmly pushing off your stick, you began walking towards it, crouching beside the flower.

It was small, incomplete and evidently not growing in ideal circumstances, too exposed to the wind.

Leaving it where it was, you kept going. The cave sat about thirty meters ahead and your heart began thudding in excitement.

Every herb and wildflower you’d documented so far was one you either already knew, or had vaguely heard of. All of them were known, most likely researched, used in experiments until every purpose was exploited. But this one? You’d never heard of a flower like this. And the thought of you being the first to properly document it? It filled you with an eager excitement.

Reaching the cave, instantly you saw the lily’s on the edges of the opening, blooming in the dirt-like ground that littered the plateau you were standing on, the forest behind you and far below.

Taking off your backpack, you moved over the left, crouching by a cluster of the flowers. Digging into your pack, you pulled out your journal and knife, carefully starting to prod at and study the flower, carelessly scribbling anything of note down.

Your mind was only focused on a single thing, yet as you inspected the flower, you noted that even in its alive state, the colours were less bright than the pressed flower the vendor had given you. Even these flowers weren’t sufficiently growing.

“Is it the cave?” You mumbled to yourself, setting your items down and getting to your feet.

Slowly, you started to walk in through the massive opening, your body casting a tiny shadow in the large circle of light.

For a minute or so, you moved. Yet the further you went, the more you walked, a dread slowly started to settle in the pit of your stomach.

Something felt off.

Stalactites hung from the ceiling, ominous and casting shadows onto the top of the cavern.

The light from the entrance was pale, limited. And as you walked forward, you slowly got to the cap of it. Daylight reached into the cave in almost a halo. A safe circle of pale light, ending where you stood now, right at your feet.

Normally, you didn’t feel like this. Normally, you’d step into the shaded part of a cavern without trouble but in this moment? You couldn’t.

There was something about this place that wasn’t right. Unnatural.

…Warm.

The cave was warm.

It was subtle, not immediately noticeable until you focused on it, but still your eyes widened in realisation of that fact. Despite climbing high up, damn near into the mountains to get here. There was no frigid cold. The difference from the moderately chilly air outside and in here was noticeable. And it definitely didn’t come from the watery sun outside.

A breeze suddenly picked up, a gust of wind so fast you had to snap your hand up to hold onto your hat, your eyes closing on instinct as your clothes billowed and ruffled.

Clutching the strap of your bag with one hand and your hat with the other, you dared to peek an eye open. Yet as you did, your heart sunk, watching as the sun that had been shining on your back was blocked, a shadow sliding in and covering your body.

The gust of wind passed, your heartbeat thudding harshly in your chest as you could hear every breath you took, your eyes wide as you stared at the unnatural shadow currently cast over you. A shadow that shouldn’t be there. A shadow that wasn’t a second ago.

Slowly, as if a thousand weights hung on you, you turned your head around. And the clench of your jaw slackened as a terror fell over you.

Sitting there, sprawled  across the opening of the cave, hung a dragon.

With scales a deep green, its eyes were fixed on you, unblinking while it sat. Hanging on the rock, its massive form blocked out the sunlight, small slivers only escaping near the corners of the scaly creature, the light almost casting it in a halo. Or hellfire.

You’d never seen a dragon before, only heard stories of knights or travellers, regaling the terror and power they could wreak.

You didn’t dare blink or move, just stuck in a staring contest until for the first time, it made a noise as a billow of smoke escaped its maw, a rumble echoing through the cave as it shifted, muscle rippling and scales glistening in the light.

With a deliberate and slow movement, it flexed the joints of its wings, stretching them slightly and blocking out even that last bit of sunlight that was on your body, fully encasing you in its mighty shadow.

With barely anything else to do, you turned your body around to face it like your head was, and as if on cue, that made it move.

Slinking down from the large cave entrance, the dragon landed on the rocky ground, front paws thudding down before the rest of the body followed, moving towards you.

Terrified, you stumbled back, wanting to run, though your heel hooked behind the uneven ground of the cave, making you fall onto your back harshly.

With the wind knocked out of you, you’d barely opened your eyes before you found the dragon’s maw hanging right above you, an amusement dancing in the crinkle of its eyes.

“Please-“ You whispered, only for the dragon to not hear as it instead spoke.

“Finally made the decision to show up, did we? You’re four hours late.”

-

I’ll try to get the next chapter out as soon as I can! Please let me know what you thought and if there is interest for a tag list for future chappies ❤️

[yandere-kokeshi]

Warnings: Yandere, Hybrid AU, male reader, anal sex, creampie.

This is not edited, I also got this idea from @konigsblog! Love her, sm /a <3

I can’t stop thinking about Dragon! Price using his strong tail during sex. Doesn’t matter where or how. His tail has to be involved in some way.

Of course, he uses it during cuddling. Different ways to bring you closer. Or how he grabs objects near you two, especially if it's portays your very cock.

He mostly uses it on your cock and balls, or his very own, or your tight hole.

It’s messy. But it’s how he likes it, no?

As of now, John is jumping on your cock, hands on your shoulders as he bounces up and down, his sharp teeth nipping and biting deep into your neck.

John lickes the wounds, sucking the swollen skin even more as you groan out; pain and pleasure were an odd thing to mix. Yet, he feels so good, so well fitted for your large cock.

Lost in the vast of pleasure, you never seem to notice his sly tail until it’s too late; curving around your muscled cheeks.

You gasp. Moaning at the continuous abuse of your beloved dragon and the fact of not expecting the cold scales against your naked globe or the warmth coming from John’s breath.

"What—" you begin, "Why– fuck...— the tail?"

John chuckles, slowing down his pace as his slitted, reptilian eyes look at yours. "It has its own mind, yeah?"

You made a small sound, a mix of a groan and eep before feeling the thick appendage begin to circle around your puckered hole.

It really did have a mind of its own, didn’t it?

John couldn’t help but smile, beginning to pick up his own speed while he’s perched up on top of you — hands still hooked upon and around your shoulders for balance as he leaned forward.

Dragging his erect cock against your tummy, he spreads his cum. His smell,

You’re such a good mate taking him so well, yet he decides to add something to the mix. Letting him add his other body – his tail – inside you. Curling your toes all handsomely as you adjust to its length.

You grit your teeth, heaving as a light layer of sweat litters both of your bodies.

"Lemme enter, hm?" John hums nicely, and you can’t refuse him. So you do, so oh gently.

He suppresses a sound – feeling even more heated. You, on the other hand, have your eyes tightly closed and moan so loud you’re sure the next door neighbors could hear the lewd activities.

You’re nearly crying, feeling the tail enter you to its full extremity where it wouldn’t kill you.

Price chuckles, nudging his face into your neck, feeding your sensitive neck with his scratchy beard as he resumes fucking you.

"Fuck– so pretty with my tail in yah," John hums, grabbing your cheeks before kissing you deeply; his tongue fighting dominance over yours.

Your eyes look at his — misty eyes. You seem to loose touch. Maybe with reality.

Everything clenches with friction. Your tight hole accepting the full him, sliding into you with the thinnest to the thickest part of his tail. Or how his own hole is so wet, taking your large cock with grace as he fumbles over his words.

"Fu–ucckk—" John breathes out, his right wing expanding, gripping your shoulder so unbelievably hard that you’re sure it'd leave bruises.

His hands drop down from your shoulders, beginning to glide over and down across your back, nails scratching at your redden skin.

"Oh– fuck, I love you."

With a single thrust upwards and John going downwards, you cry out loud as his rich cum releases all over your chest, staining your body as you also let yourself go.

Pumping pulse after pulse of thick cum deep inside him, you rest your head on his shoulder, feeling his own seed going at it.

"Fuck– ya' so amazin'".

And you don’t know if its the cock drunk, dragon behavior, or you pumping him full up his guts — but your cock pulses, eagrily telling you both that between his tight hole, and your own of his thick tail, you’re begging for a new round with this new added fun.

[ragingbookdragon]

There’s not much to see in between the minute slits of the burlap sack thrown over her head, but she still strains to see anything and everything that she possibly can. The men holding onto her arms dig their fingers into her arm, a bruising grip that is in part her fault as continually digs her feet into the ground and struggles with something fierce. Ghost is behind her, can feel it, even if he hasn’t said a single word. She on the other hand hasn’t stopped spitting fire every chance she gets, venomous threats and cold warnings.

It’s only until she’s shoved down onto a seat, arms tied behind her back with her legs bound too that the hood is harshly yanked off and she shuts her eyes at the bright light above her, much like driving on the road at night and being blinded by powerful LEDs. As her vision clears, she sees the captors who’d managed to get the jump on her and in turn, capture Ghost as well, and he’s in the same position as she is, but there’s definitely more rope around him than there is her. She snarls at them when they come close, baring her teeth in a way that says, “touch me and lose a finger.”

“What do you want from us?” she gripes, voice devoid of any emotion but annoyance.

“Answers,” the leader asks. “You know where the resistance is hiding out.”

The second one crosses his arms over his chest. “Tell us where their headquarters are.”

She spits down at their feet. “Suck my dick.” A moment, a pause before a backhand sends her careening to the side, chair tipping slightly and she growls, turning back to face him with blood dripping down her split lip; she licks it, the wound stings but it burns in a way she likes. “Your dad hit me harder than that last night,” she cracks back, and the man grabs at her chin, hauling her upright until they’re nose to nose.

“I will make you scream in ways you’ve never imagined.”

“That’s what I told your mom before I—”

His other hand reaches for her combat vest, and she thrashes as he undoes it and yanks it open; he’s centimeters from the thin tank top she wears and only then does Ghost make a single noise, the scraping of a chair, fingers clenching white on the arm rest as he snarls, “Touch her and I’ll fucking smear the goddamn walls with you.”

It’s not a threat. It’s a fucking warning. One not to be ignored.

The man pauses, looks to the side, sees Ghost’s golden eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. His breathing isn’t labored. It’s calm. Deadly calm. And the man, taking in the sunken nose of Ghost’s full-face mask, the raised skeletal plates, decides perhaps this isn’t a fight he really wants neither then nor later.

He lets her go and she sinks back into her chair, but Ghost’s eyes don’t leave the man even as he slinks behind his commander. The ropes at his wrists strain under Ghost’s flexing forearms and she hums low in her throat.

“Easy,” she murmurs. “Not here.”

This time Ghost eyes both of the enemy captors, and he answers, a barely-contained, seething rage in his chest and out of his throat, “I’ll fucking kill any bastard that touches what’s mine.” He snarls beneath the mask, and she feels it deep in her chest, the sound reverberating through her. “I’ll fucking rip your guts out through your back. Touch her again. I dare you.”

This time, even the commander shifts nervously on his feet, and he clears his throat in an exaggerated fashion to ease whatever fear is ebbing in his stomach as he turns to the second and says, “We’ll come back with more questions.”

“Don’t keep us waiting long,” she retorts, watching them leave and as the door shuts and locks, she reaches out, brushing her fingers against Ghost’s knuckle and all at once, he relaxes his grip. “Easy, Simon,” she calms, and he lets out a single deep breath.

“I don’t like people touching you.”

“You can’t kill everyone who does,” she jokes, and he looks over at her, his eyes glinting in the light, a solid ring of gold around a deep pit of a void; her throat dries up at the beastly hunger in them, but no fear is in her heart, in fact, quite the opposite.

“I’m the only one allowed to fucking touch you.” He looks down at the silver necklace on her chest. “You’re mine. All. Fucking. Mine.”

She swallows thickly, the S dangling at the apex of her throat feeling like a branding, but it doesn’t hurt, she loves the burn, craves it, wants to drown in it—in him. “Yeah, Simon,” she breathes, heart pounding in her chest. “I’m all yours.”

[ghouljams]

Hey Ghoul ! I hope you’re doing well.

It’s not really an ask about your writing, but I wanted to know if you had received the last three asks I sent you ? They were about Keegan (maybe demon!AU ? I’m sorry, I don’t really remember), Roach (no specific headcanon idea, just that I loved the way your wrote him and needed to see more of your takes on him) and ghost!Ghost on Halloween (I think it was about how they would spend the night, like with movies or something).

I’m sorry I could not be more specific, I’m a bit scared of sharing my name in asks unless it is about writing about someone’s AU or headcanons, and I actually sent them quite a while ago (the last one was ghost!Ghost, I sent it on Halloween I think - and I think there was one with Fae!Price ?). I feel like Tumblr likes to eat some of the asks I send to people a lot, so I just wanted to make know if this devilish app had been naughty again. Feel free to ignore the ideas mentioned above, this is just about the Naughty Tumblr Check.

Anyway, I’m still melting every time I see a new post from you. Your last AU with Ghost (forgot the name, I’m not familiar with era at all and my memory is poop) is just *chef’s kiss*. I can’t help but think about Ghost having a few drinks and still getting annoyed at all the guys trying to hit on the reader, and just goes to stand in front of her like « I’ll fill your dance quota of the night. Dancefloor. Now. »

And he is not sorry about the broken fan, at all.

Lots of love and inspiration on you, Friend 💚

I have your asks love! I just have 160 asks and a million ideas in my brain all the time. I'm adoring Ghost as a period romance protagonist, what a dashing gentleman he is.

It's strange, you hardly even shiver when his shadow envelops you, though you see your friends clam up tight. The lothario kissing your hand pulls back abruptly and excuses himself. You make a mental note that your escort is good for something, as you turn to face him. He doesn't look happy, but when does he ever. Ghost holds out his hand.

"Dance card," He demands. You place it on his palm and he inspects it. You think you've done rather well for yourself all things considered. All first sons and no one less than a Count. He tugs a short pencil from his breast pocket and scratches it against the card quickly before drawing a neat line. He hands it back to you and takes your hand as you look to see what he's done now.

"Simon Riley" is dragged in tight cursive along the last of your openings.

"This is ridiculous," You tell him, "You can't-"

He tugs you close, his hand firm on the small of your back, and you realize you're already on the dance floor. Huh? What? How did that happen? You glance back at your friends who all look as surprised as you are, and Ghost spins you along with the music. He's a shockingly good dancer, coordinated and strong enough to corral you away from trying to lead. His hand moves over your back, keeping you just on the wrong side of what's proper. Too close. A few older women fan themselves with their eyes narrowed as you glide past.

Not that you notice, you're too busy watching Ghost. His eyes hold yours, challenging you to pull away, to find another partner. His grip on your hand is loose, but the one on your back tells you there's no escape. When the dance is over he lifts your gloved hand to his masked lips and somehow that covered kiss feels warmer than anything bare could ever compete with. You can feel his lips against your hand as clearly as you can see his eyes dropping respectfully. You never want to dance with anyone else.

Which is perfect because he's scratched out half your dance card.

[auspicioustidings]

Mandatory Dungeons and Dragons

Summary: You have moved to a new town and really miss running D&D, good thing the nearby military base is looking for a DM.

Words: 3.9k

CW: None :)

“So I’m naw going tae go through the portal?”

“Ok so you do know from your arcana check that if you were to try go through this portal while it’s red, that a few things may happen to you and none of them are good.”

“Aye, but how not good we talking?”

“Dragged through hell before being spat back out, let’s hope someone in the party has a diamond and revivify ready not good.”

“Copy. I’ll naw go through it then sweetheart.”

“Don’t be a pussy Johnny.”

“I go through the portal!”

“...why are you all like this?”

–

You wanted to cry on the train home. Your first time at the TTRPG club in the city nearest your new home in a little village and it had been a disaster. It wasn’t like you didn’t know how to play Dungeons and Dragons just because you didn’t know every rule inside and out, but they had made you feel so stupid and as if that was absolutely the case. You missed your group back home and were already a bit insecure knowing they had another person DMing for them now. It was hard not to get in your head and wonder if they would like the new DM better, if their style would be more agreeable than the rules light chaos you brought to a table. And with the derision you had gotten from the DM at the club for daring to call a nat 20 on an attack roll a crit, you were stuck on the train considering just never going near the hobby again.

Maybe you really wouldn’t have if not for the brave little flyer hanging on to the edge of a stall for dear life that caught your eye a few months later when you went to the farmers market. You liked the farmers market in this little town, lots of handmade jams and local produce and baked goods. The stall the flyer was on was the most eccentric stall of the market and one where you had made a friend your first time wandering through, although Nik was not always here.

The Russian man looked every part the stereotypical gangster, but he was funny and kind and didn’t get upset whenever people from outside this community took issue with him on account of his home country. He had little hand carved animals that when you asked he said were made by a friend. Saying he sold them was sort of complicated because he’d give them away for free if asked, they were pay what you want with any money going towards a charity for helping recovering drug addicts. 

All that to say, it was entirely surprising that he would have a flyer looking for someone to run a D&D game at a nearby military base. 

“Do you know this game lapposhychka?”

“I do! I used to run it back home. I’m surprised a military base is looking for someone to run a game though, it’s generally played by… I mean it’s more a nerdy game, I didn’t think soldiers would be all that interested.”

“Ha! Do not listen to these silly tv shows that tell you soldiers are very cool and tough. You are more cool than any of them.”

“Uh huh, should I ask how you would know that or is it a you’d have to kill me situation?”

Nik laughed in that way that you loved, it made you so happy how unstrained he was with his fondness for you. Such an odd man. Given that he sometimes would be away from the market for weeks and always gave vague answers about what he actually did you had suspected he was in some sort of shadowy career, at least if it was with a nearby military base you didn’t have to worry that he actually was a gangster.

“Send email to the address so you can run this silly game for them hm?”

Well, what was the worst that could happen?

–

“They found someone else, sending him tomorrow” Price said with a long, tired sigh to his team. 

You would think that being a task force that was entrusted with saving the world, they would be exempt from the wellness initiatives that some civilians with fancy little degrees in an office somewhere kept forcing onto them. This one had been running for a year now and TF141 had been finding ways around it. 

The base football team had kicked them off when Johnny had bitten one of the players after an argument turned into a scuffle, so HR sent them to do airsoft thinking that it would be more appealing.

The airsoft venue had swiftly asked for them not to return when Simon had made the other team get on their knees and mock executed them one by one, so HR had sent them to a life drawing class.

The life drawing class had declined to continue running for them with Gaz’s insistence that he must be naked in order to feel comfortable drawing someone else naked, and at this point HR seemed intent on declaring an all out war on Price’s team.

Their latest was Dungeons and Dragons. Price had not known what that was when the arrogant little shit of a man had waltzed in with all of his books and dice and props and complex maps and got them to make characters. He rubbed them the wrong way entirely, clearly had some sort of superiority complex knowing that he was able to tell soldiers what to do. That had been the same with every activity they had been sent to and he was getting more and more mad about it. Why did HR think it was a good idea for civilians to be giving them instructions? It always ended with a power trip and his team needing to cut someone down to size.

“Did they aye? Such a shame aboot whit’s his face, wonder why he quit.”

“Strange right? Thought the git was having fun what with Ghost getting so into character!” Gaz added, him and Soap grinning in a way that spelled danger for whoever they were sending next.

Ghost had gotten very into character. It’s not like the knife ever would have hit the little weasel behind the DM screen, it had thunked into the wall behind him just as it had been aimed to do. Price tried to smother his own smug grin thinking back to it, the look of horror when Ghost had launched the knife, walked over, ripped it back out of the wall and said ‘tell me again that it’s lodged so deep that I can’t get it out’. 

HR were changing tactics now, making them stay on the same activity and just switching around the person running it. Well, they’d soon find out that Captain John Price did not negotiate with terrorists.

–

“Just tryin’ to be ready for any last minute missions sir.”

Price had to hand it to Simon, the man was going all out today. Full tac gear, skull mask on, generally being the most terrifying soldier a civilian could ever have nightmares of meeting in a dark alley. No doubt whoever came in would try and feign disinterest, would try and come off as if the whole thing was beneath them. As if that would do anything but encourage his lieutenant. 

“Very good. Soap?”

“Sir?”

“The mask?”

“Aye, like LT said, battle ready.”

Gaz chuckled and Price once again controlled himself so he did not join. Soap hadn’t wore that little red skull mask in a while, but he couldn’t imagine it would go down well. The temptation to go digging through his own belongings and pull the black one he owned was creeping in the back of his head. If they could scare off this DM before they even started it would really save them all a lot of time. 

–

You were jittering with nerves as the soldier checked and rechecked your ID and waved you through. This was seeming more and more like an awful idea as you parked up and were escorted through the grey winding tunnels of the base, clutching the straps of your backpack like a lifeline. 

You were dropped off outside a door and left to try and control your erratic heart as you forced yourself to open it and walk inside what looked like some sort of briefing room. It would work, there was a big table. They were already here.

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck, they were huge. They were terrifying. Two were wearing masks and you thought that maybe this was fine, character masks right? Maybe the setting they played in was more modern-ish and that's why the heavy tac wear as well. The other two were a younger man in a baseball cap and an older one in a fishing hat. They would have been less terrifying if not for the fact that they were also big and good looking. This felt like a fever dream, these people could not exist. Were those knives?

“H-hi!”

The nervous squeak of a greeting coming out of you made you at the very least force a megawatt smile on your face to cover your embarrassment about it as you introduced yourself, stumbling over your own name.

“I ah… I’m here to run a game!” you said, swinging your backpack off of your shoulders and holding it up as if it would suddenly turn see through and show your supplies.

You suddenly felt wildly underequipped. You didn’t have all the fancy terrains or stacks of books or intricate props. You had a PHB and a oneshot, a beaten up DM screen and snacks that would double as battlemaps. The email had said that they already had player sheets and dice and you didn’t see anything on the table. Oh God you hadn’t thought to bring stuff just in case, what had you been thinking? Was the months of going through every background check under the sun not warning enough that you should not be doing this?

“Of course, we’ve been expecting ye! John MacTavish, ye can call me Johnny” said the man in the red mask after a moment of stilled silence, smiling and holding a hand out for you to shake.

You felt like your hand must be clammy and your heart was liable to beat out of your chest with this man being in your space smiling down at you. You tried to relax as the older man took your bag and set it down on the table, leading you by the small of your back to one of the chairs. 

“Captain John Price, have a seat” he said kindly.

“Oh! It’s nice to meet you sir. Captain. Sir? I’m so sorry, I’m not sure which I should be using. I should have looked that up before coming, I’m sorry, I really wasn’t thinking” you rambled.

“Slow down sweetheart, you’re not under my command, you can call me John.”

It was so clear that they were soldiers. Not just the outfits, but how they held themselves. The Captain was so solid and safe feeling, like a hurricane could rip through the door and he would be able to fight it off before it touched you. It was strange the feeling it gave you to be in the space of that kind of person. It was stranger still that all four of them had that same undercurrent to them, even the huge man in the skull mask with a bunch of knives strapped to him. You sat and swallowed thickly, trying to get yourself together as you shakily unzipped your bag and started to pull everything out, trying to at least make brief eye contact with the others as they introduced themselves.

“Kyle Garrick, call me Gaz luv. Hang on, we have our stuff somewhere I think” the man in the cap said sheepishly, sharing a knowing look with the others that you knew meant there was something going on here you were missing. 

“Ghost. We don’t have stuff, sheets are long gone. Left the dice in a bar.”

“That’s ok! I mean we can wing it with a pen and paper, I’m sorry I didn’t bring any extra sheets. And if you have your phone there are free dice apps. And um…” you trailed off, looking between them and slowly figuring out that the thing you could see was a strange mix of pity and guilt. “...do you… actually want to play D&D?”

“No.”

“Jesus LT, way tae let her doon gently.”

“Git! Don’t listen to him luv, of course we want to play.”

You looked at the Captain in question. It was natural to see him as the leader here, so if anyone was going to explain it would be him you thought. He held your gaze and you found you could not look away from those eyes. There was just something so decidedly cosy and warm about those eyes, like being inside bundled up next to a blazing fireplace while being able to see snow out of the window. 

“Soap grab some pens and paper would you?”

“Aye sir!”

–

John MacTavish had been so confident when that door opened that they were about to make HR give up once and for all, that whatever man walked through that door would barely make it ten minutes before running off. That had went out the window when you came spilling through. Not one ounce of posturing or arrogance, just a sweet little thing looking at him all nervous and jittery. 

He knew it wasn’t just him that had been taken off guard, the whole room fell into an uncomfortable silence after you had introduced yourself. He had never been good with an uncomfortable silence, and he was feeling especially inclined to fill it seeing how it made your face fall more and more by the second. 

The urge to immediately tease his Captain was strong seeing that barely perceptible tick of his jaw when you had stumbled over which honorific to address him by. In all of the activities they had done, not one person had afforded Price any of the respect he deserved. It wasn’t like any of them expected civilians to follow their orders or treat them as superior, but there was something almost disdainful about it when people very pointedly refused to acknowledge it at all. When they swung the other way and tried to assert superiority over him as if to prove something. So having this sweet thing immediately try their hardest to give him his place? It was definitely affecting his Captain and it was obvious to the trained eye.

He could have spear tackled Simon for being so blunt with you. He could have kissed Gaz for immediately refuting him. And he could have eaten you right up when instead of immediately showing off all of your knowledge about lore and rules like the last one, you started out with going over all the ways you would all make sure everyone was safe and happy and having fun. 

You got so bashful trying to explain traffic lights with Simon teasing you that he couldn’t really help but put a hand on your leg to stop it from bouncing. Your bright little blush and smile at him just melted him entirely. Ah fuck, he was so screwed.

–

“I don’t know what your last DM used but totally open to whatever makes you most comfortable. I tend to use a traffic light system, have you ever used that before?”

Simon Riley found you wildly amusing, not least because Johnny was like a puppy with how he was trying to get you to like him. He was certain that if you put a hand to that mohawk then he might actually just bundle you in his arms and never let go. Cute. 

“Red means too much, orange means slow down, green means fuck yes baby keep going,” he answered, suggestion dripping off of every word. 

He watched how that made you shiver from your toes to your head, your leg bouncing nervously making it endearingly obvious how it had affected you. He wasn’t really looking to make you uncomfortable, just to tease a little. Gaz gave him a swift kick to the shin under the table and he fought off a laugh. 

“Ok you’re technically not wrong, same principle. That’s just for during the game if anything comes up, but we can decide beforehand what we definitely won’t have in the game. I’ll go through my list, but if there is anything at all anyone wants to add we’ll add it on and I’ll work around that.”

Colour him surprised when after thirty minutes he had indeed contributed to your little list. You explained it so gently that it made sense to mention that he didn’t really want snakes in the game, the same game he hadn’t been intending on playing in the first place. He liked that a lot. He liked that you put him in a place where he could comment on something vulnerable so easily because there was no chance that you’d judge him for it, you just wrote it right down on your list without question. 

He supposed they could do a few hours of this stupid game.

–

If someone had told Kyle Garrick an hour ago that he would be very seriously yelling at a magical gate that kept bloody shooting magic missiles at him, he would have said you were off your head. And yet, here he was. Well, not him. Here Elliot Knight, elvin Paladin was.

When they had played last time it was like pulling teeth. This time? The paper in front of him didn’t have a thousand things on it to keep track of, you had more or less thrown the rule book out and simplified it down to what would be easy and fun. Soap had been encouraged to reskin his sword to instead be a golf club which he was delighted about. Price was doing an outrageous Yorkshire accent that he had done briefly as a joke and then committed to once he saw how it made you grin. Ghost had fully been allowed to macgyver together a molotov in the game. And he was so bloody mad at this gate that here he was yelling at it. 

“Stop shooting at me!”

“The gate simply repeats it again. Security protocols activated, please answer all security questions to deactivate security protocol. What is the gestation period of a milk cow? It fires another missile at you and… yeah that hits. It smacks into your shoulder for 12 points of fire damage.”

“Ow! Next time someone else is playing distraction, if you fail another investigation to find this bloody book I will kill you in real life Soap.”

“I’m trying, I’m trying! Naw ma fault that Neil Ellis is a dumb fuck, I had to put all of ma points intae wisdom so he could be a proper Druid!”

“Ok so you do have a really high wisdom Johnny, and one of the skills under that is animal handling. If you wanted to, you could try to use that to see if Neil knows the gestation period of a milk cow instead of using investigation to look for the right book.”

Gaz nearly killed Soap when he managed to fail that roll as well.

–

This was stupid and fun. John Price found this stupid and fun. He had gotten strangely attached to Barry Sloane, his human fighter who was really just trying his best, although his favourite character had to be Samuel Roukin, absolute little shit of a bard. Simon had made a 4 foot tall dwarf who happily sat and played his stupid lute during all of the fights and yet had managed to land the final hit on every single thing they had fought so far by insulting it to death. 

It had been especially funny when the big monster had transformed into a maiden with flowing hair and a billowy white dress and Samuel had, while Neil and Barry were downed and Elliot was desperately trying to get them up and not die, told her “what’s the difference between you and a salad? The salad knows how to get dressed” and you had just buried your head in your hands when he had landed the hit and told you the damage. Another kill for the bard.

It hardly felt like it had been a full four hours when you wrapped up the session and apologised for over running. When you asked them about why they were playing in the first place and you had agreed to join the fight against HR? Oh, you were part of the 141 now whether you knew it or not.

–

“Wait, so they're forcing you to do an activity between every mission?” you asked, somewhere between disbelief and wild amusement.

The game went really well in the end. You liked this oneshot, it was always a hit and good for beginners, but this group had made it especially chaotic. You didn’t think you had ever been kept on your toes so much or laughed quite so hard at a groups antics. They were so ridiculous, even more so with how scary they looked in their gear. Johnny had taken his mask off during character building and you really thought you must be some sort of psycho because it had sparked your cute aggression and you barely resisted the urge to smoosh his cheeks. Ghost never took off his mask, but you got used to it. He wasn’t anywhere near as severe as he looked and he had such a stupid sense of humour that was so at odds with the spooky skull mask that it made what he came out with even funnier. 

“Yeah, supposed to somehow promote wellness more than actually catching up on sleep” Gaz grinned, clearly delighted that you seemed to find it as ridiculous as they did. 

“So what will they make you do next?”

“This again if you say yes sweetheart. You’d be the first person to not drop us after one session.”

You gave the Captain a wry smile. They had insinuated that they had been pretty badly behaved at every other activity, so you could imagine they had scared everyone else away.

“Well why don’t you just get me to come back then? We don’t have to play D&D, as long as I report that we are right? You guys can just do whatever you want for 3 hours.”

You really wanted to see them again you realised with a thump of your heart. Even if it was just a quick hello once every one or two months so they could get a sign off to say they had done their mandatory activity session. It was difficult to try and process exactly what mix of emotions you felt when Ghost laughed warmly from behind you where he had been tidying away all the drink cans and sweet wrappers you had been using as map pieces, and then dropped his arms over your shoulders in a sort of hug. He leaned down, pressing his cheek to yours so that he was looking at the others still lounging at the table. You could feel his cheek, he must have taken his mask off.

“What do you say Captain? Have her come back and do whatever we want with her for 3 hours?”

There really was only one word going through your mind and you prayed that you hadn't said it out loud.

Green.

[diejager]

Hi! I got the notification that your requests are open skjsjsjs so exciting, can you do something about the noodle dragon with Monster!Task Force 141 please? That would be all, thank you and have a nice day! ❤️✨

Cw: canon-typical violence, weird water magic, weird dragon/monster shit and lore, death, crash, tell me if I missed any.

They’d gotten used to you over the month, watching you prance around them like a graceful panther in hunt, stalking around them with that cheeky smile of yours and a clawed hand always ready to patch someone up. You were a might dragon, a warm to some classifications and an Asian one to others, but the consensus was that you weren’t one to be trifled with —as most dragons were, but if anything, you were so a feline in a body of a dragon than the ferocious monster you were. Always prowling and on guard, watchful and observant, aware of the events transpiring around you like a protective cat.

They took well to you, forgoing the paranoia and apprehension at your eagerness to help them and you openness, your long tail, hard scales protecting the thick cords of sinewy muscles curled ever so softly around them, and the tuff of fur tickling any naked piece of skin. And however tender and soft-hearted you were, they’d seen the dangerous part of you, the draconic one with a strange affinity to water rather than the destructive fire they were so familiar with. Whereas Price was a chaotic force, burning everything on his path and leaving nothing but cinder and ash, you were an unmoving force of water, a typhoon and cyclone that would crash the land and leave broken pieces of what remained, cold and drowned —the calm before the storm as people said, a perfect imagery of you.

Yet there was a lingering suspicion that it was all, that there was a more monstrous part of you hidden away from their eyes. Horangi had shared such thoughts - another mythical creature of sacredness and nobility - and showed them what hehad heard of eastern dragons: giant snake-like creatures with the faces of lions and crowns of graceful antlers, born with lustrous manes and hard but flexible scales that let them dance and twirl as they wished it. Destructive beauty, Horangihad mumbled, a creature who’s image is drawn to represent beauty and nobility. 

They knew, they were fully aware, that you had more to show, yet they couldn’t hold back the awe and amazement that followed the gut-deep fear and worry after they saw you fall, your figure shrinking as you plummeted into the dark and silent ocean, gone into the wide, open sea. Rather than seeing your head pop out, gasping for air while they clung to their straps and helicopter, Nikolai screaming through the comma about holding onto something, swirling left and right to avoid being hit a second time by the war ship, it was calm, a smooth plain growing in darkness, a shape forming beneath the veil of a blue ocean. 

Then, before they knew it, a majestic serpent erupted from the sea, wet scales gleaming under the sun while you rose into the sky in a spiral, white fur floating like you hadn’t just come out of water. You were swift, curling in the air, your magicworking it’s wonder when you flew, stubby arms and legs moving as if you were swimming, looping around them to shield them from being narrowly hit. It was as Horangi gushed, water rose and fell with you, tendrils of salty water reaching out to curl around you, rising high to swarm the enemy ship the same way you did, circling around it until it was left submerged, swallowed up by your hydromancy. You had drowned warship in the depth of the abyss, a dark and cold pit that promised a lonely death, forgotten and painful. You had caused the deaths of hundreds with a twirling dance, an alluring, yet deadly show, like an oleander.

You made no show of joining them in the aircraft, keeping your distance from them, adequate enough to protect them from further damage without becoming a danger to them. They - especially Price, since he had never seen an eastern dragon, only from files and catalogues - gawked, gazing at your head-sized eye, blinking owlishly at them with a narrowed eyes, slitted pupil gleaming with glee at their admiration. You purred, a growling rumble that shook your gills, a deep sound shuddering through them like thunder, low and booming, but it was a happy sound, meant to comfort them from the near sinking that you’d saved them from.

Even in this situation, where they’d been saved by you, you were still trying to comfort them and reassure them despite having taken a hit or two. They were glad Laswell found you.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird-kamakse @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce @sobbingnshtting

[konigsblog]

okay hear me out….dragon!price

oh, anon... i'm hearing you out 🤭

hybrid

running your fingertips along his scales whine he pins you down, snarling at you for being soo disobedient! you tried to escape him, leave him without his precious mortal; his prized possession. he's definitely so, so possessive of you, always expecting the best.

bearing his teeth at you, sharp claws digging into your flesh, pulling you towards his face while dragging his rough tongue up from your hole to your sensitive clit. he sucks your pussy until you're wet enough, before fucking his veiny, scaled shaft into your dripping arousal !!!

you pant, breathless. dragon!price isn't gentle with you, despite how fragile you are in his grasp. pushing his broad hips against yours, drooling at the sensation of your tightening, pulsing gummy walls wrapped around his thick, hot girth.

a moan leaving your lips as you throw your head back, his weeping tip pushed right up against your womb, bruising it as he pounds into you, biting you softly and gripping your hair with his clawed hands, just to look into those wet, desperate eyes.