Knights in Battered Armour
TF141 x omega!f!reader
Based off an ask by @ttsbaby01 so thank you for sending this in!
TW: MDNI 18+, A/B/O dymanics, groping, plus sized reader, implied sexual threat
For once it was quiet in the MedBay, a rare and beautiful thing to behold. The only beds currently occupied were a young Alpha who had sprained his wrist during drills, and Sargeant MacTavish who had a knife wound. The rest of TF141 were waiting to have their check-up after returning from an op, slightly bruised and battered but seemingly fine apart from Soap’s arm. They were all crowded into a single bay, chatting and blowing off steam while they waited. Price’s little pack had started to gravitate towards you when they needed medical attention, always appreciative of your gentle but skilled hands, and finding comfort in your omega nature. They never overstepped the line, never taking advantage of your designation or caring attitude.
Price had shooed away the other medic, saying they would rather wait for you while you finished with the sprained wrist a few bays down. You’d chuckled to yourself when you’d been told, your face warming slightly as you walked past them towards the other bay and giving them a little wave. Immediately you felt foolish for doing something so silly.
You enter the treatment bay with the young Alpha and pull the privacy curtain shut behind you.
“Okay, Private let’s see this wrist, shall we?” You smile breezily as you near where he sat on the edge of the gurney. His eyes rake over you, pupils wide from the pain meds he had already been given. You watch from the corner of your eye as he stares, taking in the full curves of your body and lingering on your ample, soft hips and the fullness of your breasts.
“Wow, they sent me a treat didn’t they?” He mumbles with a cocky smirk. You ignore the young Alpha’s words, this happened often enough for you to be able to not let it affect you these days, the pain meds made their tongues looser and their hind brain kick into overdrive without their inhibitions there to control it. You make no comment, picking up your clipboard hoping he’d get bored and you can continue.
“Hey, you’re not listening,” he growls, suddenly reaching out and grasping your wrist. Calmly you take hold of his hand and lift it from your arm, placing it on his lap.
“Just let me look at your wrist so I can get it strapped up,” you say with a measured tone, knowing that doing anything to provoke him would be unwise. At that moment he inhales, leaning forward so he is closer to you, and you shudder at his unwanted proximity.
“Omega,” he whispers. “Don’t smell any Alpha on you either.” He smiles, and the openly leering expression makes your skin crawl.
“Enough of that,” you say firmly, hoping to snap him out of whatever spiraling instincts are happening behind his dilated eyes. If he is getting close to a rut this could be a problem for you, suddenly the emptiness of the MedBay isn’t so great as panic flutters in your chest. You try to stay calm, not wanting your scent to give away your nervousness and risk exciting him.
“Come on now, a soft thing like you should be a house omega, keeping someone’s bed warm,” he slurs loudly, the meds really kicking in now but he isn’t settling down. If anything he gets more agitated, his uninjured arm snakes out suddenly grasping at the soft meat of your arse, squeezing roughly and you yelp despite yourself as his fingers dig in.
“You should be keeping my bed warm, love,” he continues. “Yeah, I’ll look after you…” he squeezes your backside painfully.
“I said that’s enough!” You snap defensively and use the clipboard to knock his arm away, but he snarls, knocking the clipboard painfully out of your hands and sending it clattering loudly into a cart of medical supplies, scattering them over the floor. Before you can react he is up on his feet, hands clenched into the fabric of your scrubs and pulling you against him, his injury forgotten in his haze.
“Listen to me,” he commands, forcing his Alpha authority into the words, sending tendrils of control worming into your omega brain to force you to submit to him against your will. You cower instinctively despite wanting to fight, your muscles relaxing as he pulls you into him, crushing your breasts against him.
The dividing curtain is wrenched back so hard it pops off several of its little hooks, the plastic pieces pinging across the bay. The scent of angry Alpha rolls in instantly, overpowering the young man’s scent completely and shaking his hold over you enough that you turn your eyes to see Captain Price standing there.
“What the fuck is going on in here?!” Price barks, distain dripping from every word as his eyes take in the scene before him. Ghost looms behind his shoulder, Gaz and Soap behind him crowding out the narrow space. It was a wall of muscle, the smell of blood from their battle worn clothes mixing with their anger and creating an unavoidable air of threat.
“Get your hands off our medic, pup,” Price growls, teeth bared and fangs sharply displayed, his tone more profound than the young Alpha’s, more experienced with use and rank, and you feel his grip loosen.
“It’s okay,” you try to explain, hoping to avoid more confrontation. “It’s the meds, he’s not thinking straight.” Ghost steps in, shoving the young man back and putting himself between the two of you.
“You’d better think more clearly, and quickly,” the Lieutenant says in a low, dangerous tone as he glares at the suddenly stricken Alpha, who sits down on the gurney, eyes downcast.
“S-sorry sir,” he quickly splutters, rubbing a hand over his face, desperately trying to gather himself.
“Better apologise to her, you weren’t mauling us around,” Price says with a raised eyebrow, the threat in the air thins and you straighten your scrubs. Clearing your throat you carefully brush past Ghost, who refuses to budge, and you carry on with strapping the injured Alpha’s wrist under their careful watch.
“Sorry, Doc,” he grumbles, pride hurting more than his sprained arm. After deal with his injury and send him on his way, you herd the Taskforce members back to the other bay and treat Soap’s knife wound.
“If you get any problems like that, you make sure you let us know,” Price tells you firmly, and you feel a wave of gratitude as the sentiment is echoed by the other three.
“I will, thank you sirs.”
2K notes
·
View notes
Uhhhh
Kittypets maybe didn't like Skyclan at first due to stories of Clear Sky passed down? Maybe other clans had a tense relationship, even when the Skyclan tried making a new reputation.
Other kittypets were more accepting, but by the time more change was happening and seen, the Skyclan disappeared?
Stories are passed down by older Cats, from their elders, from those elders’ own elders, of a Clowder of cats that were led by a Cruel Wild Cat. To speak the Tom’s true name would summon him, so he is referred to as The Storm.
It is said he brought a Horde of Wild Cats, collarless and without Twolegs, to live in the Wild Woods. The Horde tore itself apart, and would turn on any Cat, Pet or Wild, not in their groups.
One story tells of the Bee and Storm’s Clowder. One day, a Pet only known as Bee, fleeing her abusive mate to save her kits, ran into the Wild Woods. She returned with a tale few believed, and a Wild Cat that echoed her story. The Molly had run into Storm Clowder territory, and been brought before their leader, the Storm himself.
He accused her of being a Spy of his brother, the Great Winged Cat, and would have killed her if not for his mate, the Shelled Cat. The Shelled Cat convinced the Storm to let Bee stay the night, then Bee would leave and return with her own kits as offerings to the Storm’s Clowder. However, the Shelled Cat was a friend of the Great Winged Cat, and promised Bee that he would grant her and her kits protection from both the Storm and Bee’s terrible mate.
Bee and the Shelled Cat left the Storm’s Clowder secretly, and went to retrieve the kits from the abusive Tom. Few believed such a beautiful cat was a Wild Cat, but were made believers when the Tom was found violently dead, and both Bee and the kits gone.
Many years later, a Wild Wanderer brought tales of five groups living in the Wild Woods - and told of a cat matching Bee’s description living in the Clowder of the Thunderous Cat, son of the Great Winged Cat and the Shelled Cat. Bee had been seen living amongst them, revered and mates with the Great Winged Cat and the Shelled Cat.
Time has passed, and many cats have forgotten the stories, but others came to be. Tales of Storm’s Clowder cats that escaped when it splintered, but that’s just scurrilous rumors! No, my neighbor Gingersnap’s just touchy about her Wanderer past is all!
But some cats…dream of a far away sky…and some are even going to find it…
12 notes
·
View notes
Thank you for gifting us with your delicious writing! Your recent work with reader who pretty much glory-holes herself unknowingly to the 141 has made me learn more about myself haha. Kudos to you for creating something so original, as I have not seen anyone in this fandom take their poly story to that scenario! Do you think you will write a part where she finds out it is the 141 on the other side of the wall, or are you most comfortable keeping the fic where it is at?
Why thank you for your kind words. I’m sure there examples of this out there, I can’t have been the only one to be this perverted???
Anyway, apologies I have just written this at the gym!
The session was only meant to last an hour but it felt like multiple lifetimes rolled into one. Your first orgasm came worryingly quickly once the bearded stranger learned what made your hips buck and grind into his face. A heady combination of thick fingers sliding and curling inside your long neglected pussy, and coaxing licks with his tongue over your pulsing clit quickly pushed you over the edge. You tried to stifle your cries of frustrated pleasure as you came, fearful he’d lose interest with you.
How wrong you were. Tender kisses trail over your thighs and hips as you settle down again, your breathing leveling out once more. You want more, and somehow he can tell, or fully intended to keep going anyway as soon the kisses turn more hungry, insistent. A tongue laps against your swollen slit once more, a different pressure and rhythm this time. Greedily you grind down against his face and you feel the vibration of a chuckle at your eagerness.
That’s when you realise there is no beard, confirming what the voice at the back of your mind had been telling you: there’s more than one person in there. Any worry was quickly dispelled as you are soon swimming in ecstasy, lost on the swell of another high.
After that second orgasm the hot, firm head of a cock rocks back and forth through your folds and for a moment you consider tapping the wall and calling it quits. You never get the chance though, as with a deliberate slowness you are split open around the hard length. Your body stretches and swallows him, your voice echoing around your cramped cubicle with the needy whine of encouragement.
You wrap your legs around the firm, slim hips of the unseen man that is fucking you, and the faintest sound of a laugh comes through the opening around your waist. You don’t care though, ever nerve ending in your body is singing with the sensation of being driven to a new level of pleasure.
Hands and lips slide over your sensitive skin, until you orgasm, clenching hard around the mystery cock. He slows his thrust and withdraws.
Then nothing else happens.
Head swimming, you sluggishly pull your trembling legs back through the curtained gap. In the dim light you blink, trying to focus and work out what you are seeing. On your thigh is a series of dark smudges that solidify as you blink through the haze. In neat block capital letters the words read: Property of TF141.
706 notes
·
View notes
MK is just sitting in his own corner in the art room drawing and listening to music through his headphones. What exactly is on his paper? A very detailed Chat Noir and the beginning sketches of Ladybug!
❝ ↪ @newdleboy submitted an ask !!
There's a silent sigh of relief when he manages to make his way into the art room and shut the door behind him. As much as he enjoys the chance to hang out with his friends, there's a small part of him curious to the fact if his latest photoshoot had something to do with the spike in attention.
He didn't want to be known for his model work, he wanted to be known as their friend. " I'm a person, " he mumbles to himself. Not a photo in a magazine.
Caught off guard when a light hum suddenly hits his ears, his gaze curiously shifts to the male in his corner, seemingly in his own world. The music must have been too loud, he's able to sneak a peek with the art project taking place and is lost in the details sketched of Chat Noir along with the start of Ladybug.
He really did look that cool in action, huh?
" Say, you're really good at this! That's definitely Chat Noir's good side - Ladybug looks amazing as well. " he admits the moment he realizes the other has caught his stare and moves his headphones.
" Sorry! I needed a place to hide, didn't mean to startle you. "
1 note
·
View note