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#thank you all for keeping me company in this month's challenge!!!
runnning-outof-time · 6 months
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Omggg congrats on 3.5k!! That’s incredible! Duuuude this short prompt blurb challenge is gonna blow up! For me, would you be open to doing one with Tommy, using the prompt sentence, “Look at me right now”? He sure can be demanding when he wants something lolol🥰🥵again, congratulations dear! You deserve all the love!
Oh thank you so much for sending this in @tragiclotus ! You’re so right - he really can be! I hope you like what I did with this, and that you’ve been enjoying the blurbs I’ve been sharing! Enjoy! :)
PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!
Part of my 3.5k celebration — find more stories here!
No One But You
Tommy Shelby x Reader
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Warnings: self-doubt, worry of past lovers returning…nothing too major
Word Count: 1018
Summary: Tommy assures (Y/N) that she’s the only woman he wants after two women from his past reappear in his life.
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She must’ve read the return address a dozen times. Why? She didn’t know. It wasn’t like reading it again was going to make the sender’s name change. But yet she did anyway.
(Y/N) knew who Grace was. She’d heard about her; knew what she’d done to Tommy and his family. So why the hell was she sending him letters now?
At first she spoke to Polly, who told her to hide them. As a clerk at the postmaster’s office, she’d make sure to bring any mail the Shelbys received with her whenever she’d come to visit her boyfriend. When she’d arrive at Watery Lane, she’d follow the older woman’s suggestion and promptly slip the envelope into one of the side table’s drawers; hoping that Tommy wouldn’t find them there. But they just kept coming.
And now as she was walking to Watery Lane with what was the fifth letter Grace had sent, she didn’t know if she could keep up with hiding them. So instead she kept it in her hands, re-reading it until she heard the door open.
She stood to her feet at the sound and walked over to greet her boyfriend, accepting his kiss and shoulder squeeze as a greeting. Tommy knew something was wrong the second he pulled away. (Y/N) wasn’t wearing her usual, welcoming smile. Instead, her expression was blank.
“Has something happened?” he asked her, his brows furrowing together.
“This came in to the post today,” she answered him, extending her hand to hold the envelope out between them.
Tommy’s brows furrowed deeper as he scanned over the words written on the envelope.
“Why does she keep writing you?” (Y/N) couldn’t stop herself from asking, desperate to know why he was still receiving letters from her.
She and Tommy had entered a relationship only five months ago, but she was no stranger to the life that he lived and the company he’d kept in the past. Tommy Shelby was sought after by many, and somehow she’d gotten lucky…or at least that’s what she kept telling herself. No matter how many times his actions reassured her that he was hers alone, that nagging seed of doubt still crept into her mind. Like it was doing now.
“I don’t know why,” he answered with a shake of his head, “I haven’t spoken to her since she left for New York.”
“She’s written to you five times,” (Y/N) couldn’t withhold the information any longer. Tommy’s brows furrowed again upon hearing her admission, so she decided to elaborate: “Polly said that I shouldn’t give them to you; that I should hide them instead. They’re in the side table. I don’t know why I listened to her. I just…I couldn’t bring myself to give them to you.”
Tommy looked down at the letter and back to (Y/N), seeing that she was now biting on her lip, a nervous tendency of hers that he’d noticed fairly early into their relationship.
“May Carleton also came to meet you last week…” she spoke again after silence had hung in the air for a few moments.
“She needed to speak about the horse,” he answered in a nonchalant manner, not thinking much more of the meeting he had with the other woman.
(Y/N), of course, was overthinking it.
“Hey…” Tommy brought her out of her thoughts, making her focus on him again. “I can see you fighting with yourself. Let those thoughts go.”
“I can’t…I just can’t help but wonder if maybe, if maybe that, that with them coming back…” she tried to speak but her mind betrayed her, and the lump that formed in her throat stopped her from speaking altogether.
Not much more was needed to connect the dots though. The clues had been dropped and Tommy was quick enough to pick them up and place them in order. “Those women are in the past, (Y/N). You’re the one I want,” he spoke with sincereity, hoping that it’d quell the thoughts swirling around her mind.
(Y/N) held eye contact with him until she couldn’t anymore. She felt those worries still bubbling up inside of her, even though he’d just flat out told her that he wanted her. She dropped her gaze to her fingers, watching as she picked at her nails.
“(Y/N)…” Tommy tried to get her attention, but to no avail. “Look at me right now,” he went another route, using his index and middle finger to raise her eyes to his again. He could see that they were watery now, and he hated that she was thinking so far into this. He took her cheeks into his hands, pulling her the slightest bit closer to him before speaking again. “There’s no one but you, ok? You’re the one I want to be with. You’re the one I want,” he reiterated his point, his eyes searching hers as he spoke. “Ok?” he asked again after she hadn’t spoken in a few moments.
“Ok,” (Y/N) breathed out, nodding her head the best she could with it held in his hands. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, hoping to steady herself. When she opened them again, they immediately hooked onto Tommy’s intense blue ones. “I’m sorry, Tommy,” she felt that she had to apologize.
“Don’t be,” he shook his head slightly at her statement, “there’s no reason for you to be sorry, love.”
“But I…”
“No,” he cut her off, “I’m going to burn this letter, and any other letter that comes. You’re the one I want, (Y/N).”
A small smile formed on her face at his words. She reached out and gently ran the back of her hand down his cheek, watching as his eyes dropped to her lips. Knowing what was coming next, she closed her eyes, leaning in slightly and meeting him in the middle, their lips finding each other’s in a passionate kiss that rid her mind of all of her doubts.
“No one but you, love,” Tommy whispered against her lips before kissing them again.
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Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @youtifulsunshinelixfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @iambored24601 @shaddixlife
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marwolaeth-76 · 4 months
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Hi (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡, Can you make a one shot of Veneer with a female reader, where the reader is also a singer (solo) but Veneer tries to get closer to her, in every possible way until at one point the attraction between the two of them is so noticeable that in interviews they begin to ask them about it, and in the end they start a relationship.
Hi!! thank you for your request and thank you for waiting, I hope you like it🩷 and I want to apologize for waiting request other people, I’m sick right now so I don’t have the strength to write😢
Veneer x !FemReader stars fell in love with each other
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You take a deep breath as you walk down the halls of build preparing for your interview. Ever since your debut single dropped, your life has been a whirlwind. Fans, photoshoots, awards shows - it's all so exciting but also overwhelming at times. As you near the stage, you spot a familiar face in the crowd. Veneer gives you a small grin. Your heart skips a beat, you've been growing closer to the star singer over the past few months. Between running into each other at events and bonding over the pressures of fame, you've found yourself developing feelings for him. The interview goes well until the host notices your lingering glances at Veneer. "Soo tell me - are you two there is something between you?" Kid Ritz ask slyly, crossing one leg over the other, raising an eyebrow questioningly. You it’s hard to hide your nervousness, a chill of embarrassment runs down your spine, you should have guessed that such embarrassing questions cannot be avoided, people love drama, especially between stars. Before you can stammer a response, Veneer speaks up. "We just care for each other", -he says with a warm smile in your direction. "But for now, we're just enjoying each other's company and support as we both navigate this new chapter in our lives and careers." - His tone is calm, he must have planned this answer, it’s not just that he’s sitting among the audience? although maybe it's just a coincidence. His words are reassuring yet leave the door open for something more. After the show, you share a private moment backstage. "Before you think I'm a heartless ladies' man", - Veneer began to speak in his usual mannered voice. "I..I meant what I said earlier" - Veneer says softly, taking your hand in his. "You know? I really like you, It was already difficult for me to keep it to myself. Everything is happening so fast, I can’t say that I’m unhappy with it" To say that you are in shock is not enough to say, no, of course you dreamed of this, but to really have Veneer feel the same feelings for you as you do? You stand there like a real fool, staring at the guy with wide eyes for almost a full minute before coming to your senses, catching the slightly embarrassed expression on the singer's face. You beam up at him. "Um!..I like you too? this is so awkward, I'm sorry, Don’t get me wrong, I’ve really kind of... fallen in love with you for a long time.." Leaning in, your lips stretched out in an embarrassed smile, Your heart conquers the normal rate of beats per second, you pull the guy in to kiss him on the cheek. "Ohh only on the cheek?" - Veneer asks with a note of mischief, the slight nervousness left his face, although you could swear that his hand you were holding was shaking slightly, he looking at you with his sparkling blue eyes. Looking away slightly to the side, you shake your head, raising your eyebrows and answer excited: "everything has its time)" While love brings challenges, you're glad to face them with Veneer by your side.
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uhhh i really wrote little, srr, bad health does not allow me to think of something normally 😤
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Text
Who's your daddy? | s.r
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summary: After a long day's work, the BAU returns to the head office where they find a stroller with a small baby sleeping and a child very determined to surprise his father… But who's his father?
warnings: too much fluff, spencer!dad, my best attempt at Spencer dad because it's 24/7 on my mind. I REALLY ENJOYED WRITING IT, AAAAAAAAAAA. This story is not spencer x reader, i wanted to try something different so i created a character. I hope you guys like it.
words: 4,241.
a/n: I decided to surprise myself and try the family/family found challenge from one of my favorite writers in the whole universe, @imagining-in-the-margins. I used, I think, one of my favorite concepts which is "secret family/spouse/child" for this little au.
i want to remind you that English is not my first language, so if there are mistakes I hope you will forgive me :( I hope you like it, plus I really enjoyed being able to try something new and outside of what I usually focus my writing on. THANK YOU, TQM.
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Catching criminals is a good way to kill time.
The BAU team knew this perfectly well, that's why they were dedicated to it. Every day was a new experience trying to find and capture the worst of the worst of humanity. Even though sometimes they just wished those freaks would take a day off.
The last case had sent them all the way to Silicon Valley, successfully catching the unsub and making it safely back to the FBI offices.
What they didn't expect was to find their technical analyst and friend, Penelope, gazing in amazement at the inside of a stroller.
"What is that, Penny?" asked Emily, walking up to the blonde figure who was totally engrossed by what she was seeing in that baby carriage. The group approached silently, after seeing the woman's signal for them to come as quietly as possible, and saw inside it.
A small baby was sleeping comfortably inside. They estimated that he was about eight months old; they could see a few strands of thin brown hair that were tousled falling down his forehead, his little nose was puckered and his little hand clenched the tail of a fluffy lion. His outfit was as cute as possible: his body was adorned by a white long-sleeved T-shirt with an iguana on it and a leaf-green overalls, but much of his body was covered by a gray blanket.
"Isn't that the cutest thing you've ever seen?" Penn looked up, feeling her heart stir. "I went out to greet you and found this beautiful creature. He was sleeping and alone, so I decided to keep him company until someone came to claim to be the father of this beautiful peach." J.J couldn't fall for the charms of that baby, after becoming a mother her Achilles heel was children.
"Was he alone, Penelope, are you sure there was no one with him?" Luke couldn't help but wonder how it was possible that they had left a baby, alone, in the middle of a hallway in a federal building. "Positive, I've been there for about ten minutes and I haven't seen anyone approach him."
The team brought their full attention to the mysterious stroller, looking for some sign of what would be the perpetrators. Hanging there was a gray-colored bag with a small giraffe keychain; inside it was the necessities for any kind of emergency that might happen. Diapers, change of clothes, some food, powdered milk, a bottle, everything necessary for a baby.
"We should check the cameras to see who brought him here" Matt suggested, feeling his nose being invaded by the smell of baby cologne, a very mild and almost hypnotic one.
"It's a blind spot, Matt." Tara replied, noticing how the little guy rolled over and let out an adorable yawn, falling back asleep. "He's too cute." Penelope's eyes seemed to shoot hearts.
"We should move him out of the hallway, it's drafty and he might catch a cold." J.J brought her hands up to the carriage and began to push it, being followed by the rest of the people back to their cubicles.
Despite the movement, the little boy, who was now nicknamed "peach" thanks to Garcia, remained in that deep sleep.
"I wish I had that deep sleep" Emily smiled, looking at peach's features.
He looked like someone.
Who was it?
"I want to go back to those times where my only problem was sleeping and eating" Rossi commented, causing his colleagues to laugh.
"I don't understand how a baby could have gotten up there without anyone seeing him. It's a building full of federal agents, there's no way no one saw anything." Matt nodded at Luke's words. "Let's jump to conclusions, how did a sleeping baby get here? There's no way he pushed his own car to get here." J.J peeled his gaze from the car, feeling a light bulb in his head turn on.
"In the bag there were juice boxes, it is unlikely that they are for him. It is recommended that at twelve months they can only have juice, so they may be from the parent or he has a brother or sister accompanying him" Rossi smiled, nodding at the words the young woman was saying. It was quite logical coming from the mother bear.
"If that were so, where is this responsabl-"
"Excuse me," A high pitched voice interrupted Luke's sentence "I believe you have my brother."
The group turned to see where the voice was coming from. A small figure was standing behind them, he looked quite calm and was running his hands down his brown pants.
The small glasses were drooping down the bridge of his nose, his hair was disheveled just like his little brother's and his hands were arranging the sleeves of his blue hoodie.
"I-is he your brother?" Emily stood at the height of the youngest, who was nodding before he approached the baby carriage and took to watching the little one, inwardly thankful that he remained in his deep sleep.
"I just went to the bathroom and when I came back he was gone." The little boy drew an elongated smile, taking in the faces of everyone around the stroller. " You're federal agents, so I didn't panic too much when I didn't see him."
The boy settled on the floor, taking off the backpack he was carrying and pulled out of it a book, which had in golden letters the title of "The Little Prince." Apparently, it was in French.
"How do you know we're federal agents?" Luke seemed just as surprised as the others, who didn't understand how the youngest could remain calm after taking his brother away, and besides, he knew they were federal agents.
"It says so on your badge, sir" The small hand pointed in the direction of the badge hanging from his pants, causing everyone to turn their gaze to it. "Besides, my mom told me."
"And where is your mom?" Rossi was the one who took the word, smiling at the confidence the young man possessed.
"That's a good question, sir. I'd like to know where she is, too." He shrugged, trying to remember what the woman had told him before leaving him in the hallway of the BAU office. "I know she told me, but at the moment I can't remember. It was too noisy when she said it."
The rest were silent. The little boy was handling a rather formal vocabulary, one that is very strange for his age, plus he looked quite interested in reading his book than paying attention to the rest of the stares.
"Excuse me, sweetheart… But how old are you?" Penelope smiled friendly towards the young man, who took his eyes off his interesting book.
"Five and a half, but many say from the way I talk I'm older."
Luke opened his mouth, surprised at the young age he possessed and that, moreover, he was in charge of his brother.
"What about your brother, how old is he?"
"He's eight months and two weeks old, he's still not close enough to say he's nine months old, so I'd rather be exact."
Emily was increasingly sure that he looked like an exact copy of someone she knows, but she couldn't associate it.
"Even so," Continued the young boy "there's something you guys haven't asked me" the book took a step back, closing it and setting it down on his lap.
"What's that, kiddo?" Tara asked.
"My name or my brother's" The group looked at each other. He was right, they had been so preoccupied with finding out about the person in charge of them or their age that they had overlooked asking his name.
"You're right, that was rude of us, what's your name?" Matt fixed his gaze on the young figure, who was giving them a smile where one of his front teeth was missing.
"I'm Alex, well… Actually my name is Alexander, but my mom and dad call me Alex, except when they're mad." A small giggle escaped Jennifer's mouth. "And my brother's name is Oliver, but we call him Oli."
"Well, it's nice to meet you, Alex." Matt's hand extended in the direction of the little boy, who shook it with a smile. "What about you guys, what are your names?"
The group smiled, introducing themselves to each other so that the young boy could remember each name without a problem. After this, the little boy began to repeat the names, making sure he could remember each one well and be able to get each name right.
"Okay, Alex. Now that we know each other, I want to ask you a question" J.J addressed the little one, who gave him his full attention.
"Shoot, Miss J.J" His answer caused everyone to laugh, letting the little guy's charisma win them over.
"What are you doing here? I don't think you decided to come here at nine o'clock at night with your brother and mother just to see the place."
"Well, we actually came to see my dad." Admitted the little boy, adjusting his glasses.
"Your dad? And where is he?" Penelope searched with her gaze, as if she were on her computer looking up the information on her servers.
"It's a surprise! Dad doesn't know we're here, it's the first time we've come to see him at work. I wanted to surprise him so I asked Mom if she could bring me here, and since I've been good, she agreed." Proudly, Alex reached into his backpack for a neatly folded piece of paper. He opened it and held it out to J.J., who was surprised at the grades on that slip of paper.
"Wow, I see only A's here" The printout passed from hand to hand, noting that every course had been passed with the highest grade.
"Yep, even sports! Mr. Adams, my teacher, said I'd been the fastest in the class. Even though I prefer literature, I got along better with letters than balls."
Emily was sure she was a clear copy of the youngest on her team, Spencer Reid.
Wait, where was Spencer?
"Where is Spencer?" Emily turned her gaze to her buddies, who were handing the paper back to Alex so he could put it in his backpack.
"He said he was going to do some stuff on the fourth floor, then he'd be on his way here." Tara replied, turning her attention back to the little boy. "By the way, what's your dad's name? Maybe we can help you look for him, we're the best profiling group in the whole FBI, so we can find him fast."
"His name is Dad!"
"And what's your mom's name?"
"Mom?"
The group went blank. It was clear that a five-year-old wouldn't know what his father or mother's name was. Despite being quite intelligent, to him his parents were called "Mom and Dad."
But it seemed they had managed to summon something, for after mentioning the progenitor of both, little Oliver interrupted their conversation with a whimper announcing that his bedtime was over, plus his beloved mother figure was missing.
"Oh no…"
Alex moved in the direction of the backpack, opening it to look for his brother's pacifier.
The longer they lingered, the louder and louder the little boy's crying got. J.J tried to cuddle him, trying to soothe him while Emily rocked the stroller back and forth and Tara hummed a lullaby.
Luke and Matt were trying to distract him, waving their hands in front of him and making funny faces. Rossi was trying to help Penelope and little Alex with the search for the pacifier, who would occasionally bring his hands to his ears to stop the sound of his brother for a couple of seconds.
But silence came in surprise, causing everyone to stop their actions. Their gazes turned to the baby, who was giving a giggly laugh and wiggling his feet, babbling something. It looked like Oliver was feeling something.
"What's going on here?" a female voice interrupted them, again directing their gaze back.
A tall woman, who was wearing a simple beige sweater and black pants plus black converses, was approaching the stroller. The group of people moved away from her, who was leaving a plastic bag with a box in it on one of the desks and holding the baby in her hands.
She made sure to settle him on her shoulder, stroking his back slowly. Alex smiled, moving closer to the young woman and hugged her side, letting his glasses lift a little from being so tight against her.
"Mommy! Where were you, I thought you'd left me alone forever! Well… Not alone, I was with Oli but you know what I mean." The woman let out a giggle, bringing her free hand to the younger one's disheveled hair and stroked it, feeling the younger one squeeze tighter and tighter.
"Alex, love, I told you I was going to the store to buy Daddy's donuts, don't you remember?" She pushed little Oliver away so she could kiss his forehead and settle him back into the stroller. Her hands, now free, went to Oli's side and took a small pacifier, bringing it up to the baby's mouth, which he immediately accepted to begin sucking on.
"Oh… That's what you told me."
Thewhole group let out a laugh, noticing the little one's rosy cheeks. The woman, now recognized as "mommy", turned to look at the group who had taken it upon themselves to care for her two children.
"Gee, sorry for ignoring you guys." The girl giggled, giving them the same look Alex had given them a few minutes ago, fixing on each one. "Thanks for watching them, I know Alex is responsible, but I'm glad to know there were older ones around."
"You don't have to, Alex was a sweetheart. We were nosy and took his little brother, it was our mistake." Emily admitted.
"That's right, Mommy! I went to the bathroom and they had taken Oli" The young woman simply laughed, kissing the younger boy's forehead before speaking again.
"It's okay, kiddo. They did the right thing, they did the reasonable thing."
"We tried to find out who his parents were, but he told us their names were mom and dad" Alex nodded, looking at his progenitor who seemed quite amused by the whole situation.
Alex took her mother's hand, motioning her to come closer to tell her something. The female complied, listening intently to what her young son was saying before she let out a giggle and nodded, returning to her position.
"Well, actually called me mommy. But before I was called mommy I had another name, pumpkin. My name is Amanda, but at home they call me mommy or baba." Alex opened his eyes, surprised that his mother had another name besides "mommy."
"It's a pleasure, Amanda. I see all your names start with a vowel." Rossi was the first to speak, reaching out to shake Amanda's hand. "Your husband's too?"
"No, he's the exception." The femme admitted, beginning to wave to the round of people standing there.
For a couple of minutes, the group began a pleasant conversation where they talked about the time she was missing. They had jumped to the wildest conclusions, but they knew that at some point they would meet the mother of those two angels.
"Oh, I bought a lot of donuts now that I remember, do you like them? They're my husband's favorite." The woman walked over to the bag, from which she pulled out the box and smiled.
The group appreciated the gesture, beginning to receive and distribute the pastry among those present.
A chocolate-covered doughnut with sprinkles on top was received by each person.
Wait… Her husband's favorite?
Emily looked at the two little ones, then her gaze went to the young woman, then to the doughnut and her eyes went back to the little ones.
Emily could feel her head smoking from the way she worked.
No, it wasn't possible.
Spencer would have told her if it was.
"Excuse me, Amanda…" The mentioned one looked up, fixing her gaze on Emily as little Alex took small bites of his donut and shared it with his mother. "What-what did you say your husband's name was?"
"Oh! I didn't say it, actually." She admitted, taking a bite of the donut she was sharing with Alex. "His name is Spe-"
The answer interrupted by the shout Alex gave, turning away from his mother to run down the hallway for the new presence.
"Daddy! Daddy!"
Spencer peered down the elevator, noticing how the small little man ran into his arms and pounced on him.
"Alex! What are you doing here, little one?" He carried the little guy, leaving a resounding kiss on his cheek and looked him in the face. His cheeks were covered with chocolate and his glasses were drooping gracefully down his nose. "Are you alone, who brought you?"
"Mom did!" The youngest was smiling happily, playing with his progenitor's hair. "Dad, did you know Mom has another name besides Mom, her name is Amanda!"
"Yes, buddy. I knew mommy's name was Amanda, but I affectionately call her Mandi."
"I thought you called her Mommy, not Mandi."
Spencer carried his little boy over to the cubicles, finding his work group/friends staring at him with stupefaction on their faces. He was sure their faces were perfect for being part of a surreal painting.
"Spence, surprise." Amanda approached the man, leaving a kiss on his lips and received her husband's kiss back.
"What are you two doing here?" Spencer looked at his family with some surprise.
"Three, daddy. Oli's here too" The little hand pointed toward the stroller, where the movement of the youngest of the Reid family could be heard.
Spencer walked over to the baby carriage, leaving the eldest of the Reid brothers on the floor and peeked out so he could see his little boy, his newest devotion.
"Hi Oli, are you awake yet? Daddy's here." Oliver watched his father with his big hazel eyes, moving his hands so he could reach one of his father's curls. "Hey, buddy. How big are you." The man took the little guy in his hands, drawing him into his body so he could carry him, smiling at the feel of his son's movement stopping as he began to pet him.
The whole group was silent, unable to believe that the youngest of their team had such a well-kept secret.
A wife and two children! How was it possible that even Emily hadn't known about this?
"Spencer…w-what is this? When did you intend to tell us? About your wife, about your children, about-about this!" Emily waved her hands around trying to take in the situation, feeling the pieces of the puzzle coming together on their own.
"I thought Hotch was going to tell you before he left." Spencer looked at the group of people, stopping his gaze on his wife who lifts her shoulders, trying to tell him "don't even look at me, I didn't say anything."
"Clearly he didn't say it" Jennifer looked at her best friend, trying to look as relaxed as possible, but it was impossible, I guess no one was trying to "act cool" at that moment.
"Well, I guess it's time to introduce you to my family." Amanda smiled, leaning against one of the desks as she watched Alex approach her. "This is Amanda, Amanda Reid, my wife" The young woman waved her hand, crossing her arms again with a smile on her mouth. She loved that he said my wife. "This is Alexander Reid and Oliver Reid, Alex and Oli of affection." Little Alex smiled, again waving to everyone with his hand and took what was left of the donut his mother offered him.
"How long have you been married?" Next to speak was Rossi, who felt Hotch had betrayed him by keeping that secret so long.
"Well, married… we've been married for five years. Dating we've been dating for seven…" Amanda turned to look at her husband.
"Seven years, five months and thirteen days." Spencer nodded, looking down at the baby who had just fallen asleep in his arms.
"So…" Matt looked over at Alexander, who looked amused eating the sprinkles on top of the donut.
"Yeah, Alex was a surprise. We knew we wanted to be parents, but we wanted to live together first, and well… The first night of living together caused Alex's arrival." Amanda laughed with her cheeks flushed, noticing how Spencer's cheeks were also filled with that crimson red. "Oli arrived after a couple of tries. We didn't want Alex to be alone and have to read all the books to himself."
"Now he reads Oli to sleep, like the good big brother he is" Spencer smiled, placing little Oliver in the most comfortable place to sleep.
After that confession, the pair settled in at the desk where the woman was sitting.
"I have so many questions I can't process, I really don't understand. So…how come we didn't see this in your apartment when you went to jail? We'd be completely blind if we hadn't noticed." Penelope had gotten to a good point, causing the friends to nod and the pair looked at each other before they could respond.
"It's because you guys went to Spence's old apartment." Amanda replied. "When we had Alex, we outgrew the apartment. We tried to look at an apartment in the same building, but they were all the same, so we pooled our paychecks and managed to rent a slightly larger apartment down the street from there. After Oliver came along we had to move to a bigger place." Spencer nodded, wiping the corner of his son's lip, which was full of chocolate. "But when Spence needs to focus, he goes to his old apartment to work. Diana was living there for a season and then she came to our house." The young woman pushed her hair back, feeling her husband's warm hand wrap around her hip.
The group was attentive to what they were saying, nodding at every word and concentrating on the story they had for them. Like little children, they formed around the young couple to follow their narrative.
"When Mexico and jail happened, it was really an ordeal. Hotch called us to get into the program with him and Jack, we had to go into hiding because we were Spencer's immediate family. Before Diana could hide she was kidnapped and, well, you know the rest of the story." Amanda's hand went to her son's hair, playing with the unruly locks of the scalp. They were exactly the same as his father's.
"But we would have known, I would have figured it out! H-how did you…?" Penelope was utterly convinced she would have found that information.
"It wasn't in the system." Spencer admitted. "I begged Hotch not to release it, it's manually, on paper. But online it's not, it was more likely to endanger my family." The young couple looked at each other and gave each other a smile. Sighing, Spencer continued. "Something like Foyet and Hotch would have happened, it was too dangerous. I wasn't willing to lose them and place them in danger."
Finally, the group of people began to understand, nodding at what he was saying and relaxing after that news.
"Spence had intended to tell them, but after Cat Adams, Scratch, Mexico, jail, Diana… I don't know when the time was right, to be honest with you." A collective chuckle filled the room echoing at that moment.
"Wow Spencer, you sure had this secret well hidden." Luke smiled, patting the younger man on the back, who was grinning broadly after breaking free of that secret that had him gnawing inside.
"Well, it's never too late to throw a welcome home party for the new family." Rossi smiled, moving closer to Amanda so he could hug her.
Mandi smiled receiving greetings from everyone, feeling like she was home.
"Good, then I'll start buying presents from now on. For both Oliver and Alex." Penelope smiled, receiving a wide smile from Alexander, who was the most excited to receive gifts. "I've missed so many birthdays and Christmases already."
"So…" Alex stole glances at everyone, who looked quite intrigued by his words. "Can I tell you aunties and uncles?"
That was the straw that broke the excitement level in the entire group, causing everyone to nod and smile broadly, feeling their chest heaving with joy.
"Did you see, Alex? Now you have lots of aunts and uncles to share, plus cousins." Spencer fell into step with his son, who was hugging him by the neck with a smile.
"That's right daddy, lots and lots!" The little boy turned to look at them all before stretching his arms out to hang around Luke's neck, who was greeting him with a smile that went so far as to make his cheeks ache.
The entire group stayed talking for a couple more minutes before deciding to head home to relax after a full day full of excitement.
Before she could get on the elevator, Emily smiled in the direction of the group of people.
"I think we know who his daddy is." Tara's whisper caused Emily to laugh and step onto the elevator, letting the doors close and signal the end of the work day.
The day had closed on a high note, not only for the capture of a criminal, but also for the discovery of a new family.
And Spencer couldn't be happier to finally reunite their families.
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kissesssss, bai. 💕
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muddyorbsblr · 5 months
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friday nights & hot dates [kinktober 2023: slow & soft]
See the full Kinktober 2023 Collection here! See my full list of works here!
Summary: A few months after he first showed up at your house to keep you company on your birthday, Conrad finally tells you how he feels. | sequel to 'you deserve better'
Pairing: James Conrad x Reader
Word Count: 6.1k [please prepare drinkies & snacks accordingly]
Warnings: 18+ | smut (minors & pearl clutchers, get on outta here i won't ask twice); unprotected p in v sex; language; insecure reader; the smut scene is 1.3k words long idek if i should say sorry for this… [let me know if i missed anything!]
Things to be aware of: simp Conrad; a touch of aftercare in the end 😳🫠
Dick-tionary (aka smut guide): smut starts at "Once he realized what you were about to do" and ends at "We're nowhere near done"
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A loud chime boomed across the Monarch training field, announcing the top of the hour. The setting sun only barely blocked by the visor atop former Captain James Conrad's head and doing a piss poor job of straining his eyes as he watched on the first troop of soldiers assigned to the lab.
He'd been tasked to train the few handfuls of privates to be able to face the challenges that Skull Island would have in store for them throughout subsequent missions. They were decent enough, but to handle both navigating the hostile, monstrous terrain and serving as protective detail for the scientists on their tasks to obtain more samples and document its ecosystem, they would need to be exemplary. At the top of their game.
Especially if they are to be protecting Y/N, he thought to himself. Then again, he probably wouldn't let any of them anywhere near you. He would see to your protection personally. Make sure that there was little to no room for error when it came to your safety.
But they all had a long way to go before he decreed any of them ready for the field. And none of them would be closing the gap on their endurance or their agility within the next few minutes. The chime that rung out through the field not only signaled the top of the hour, but the end of your own work day, and he wanted to at least see you off to your ride home. Perhaps walk with you to the pick-up point.
"Alright, that's enough for today," he called out to the privates, everyone standing to attention at his word. "We'll resume on Monday morning. Get adequate rest this weekend."
He took off his training jacket and his visor, haphazardly running his hand through his short cropped hair. While he took a quick inventory of his belongings before heading off to your lab, one of the women privates approached him.
"Do you need anything, Pearson?"
She began to shuffle her stance, somewhat incapable of meeting his gaze as she spoke to him. "The other guys and I were going to check out the new Mexican place that opened up a few blocks from here. I was--I mean we were wondering if you'd like to join us?"
Pearson straightened her stance in a particular manner, jutting her chest out in a blatantly clear attempt to draw his attention to it. You're fresh out of luck, my attentions are for one woman and one woman only. And she's in the lab.
"Thank you for the invite, Pearson, but I have what you and your peers might say a…'hot date' tonight." He fought against the smile playing at the corners of his mouth at the thought of being on a proper date with you.
"Oh." She barely tried to hide the disappointment in her voice. "Okay then. Have a good weekend, Sir."
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"Don't look now but he's here again," Brooks muttered from across the lab, the sound of him clacking away on his keyboard taking the briefest pause to tell you that once again, the former SAS tracker James Conrad was right outside the door. "You ever gonna share with the class how you two became a thing? 'Cause we have a bet going on in the lab about who made the first move and--"
"There's nothing to share, Brooks, because we aren't a thing," you cut him off, taking on a snippy tone while you ran the genome of the last flora sample from the set you collected in Skull Island against every recorded organism known to man so far. "We're friends, that's all. Give it time and he'll get tired of slumming it out with me and go back to haunting pool bars and nameless hookups."
"I don't know, Y/L/N…I never had a friend look at me like that."
The results from your test finally came up on the screen, confirming that the flora on the island were all, in fact, undocumented. You took a quick screenshot and placed it into your report. "Looks like we're getting funded," you announced, your half-deadpanned tone met with a mixture of excitement and fear. "Don't everyone stand up at once, I know how pumped we all are to get back to the island of death."
You finally stood up from your desk, looking outside the door and seeing Conrad outside giving you a little smile when your eyes met. You tried to ignore how your heart started doing backflips in your chest at the sight of him, keeping your expression fairly neutral as you gave him a small wave in response. Once your computer had finished shutting down, you grabbed your things and bid everyone goodbye, stopping at Brooks's desk last.
"If what you mean is looking at me like a barnacle he can't scrape off his boat, I hope you never have friends that look at you like that, my guy."
Before you stepped through the door, your fellow scientist let out a final remark. "You know, Y/N, for someone so smart, you're a bit of an idiot sometimes."
"Takes one to know one, Brooks," you shot back, stepping across the threshold and almost immediately becoming face-to-chest with the tracker that towered over you effortlessly. "Hey Conrad," you said slowly, trying your best to keep a hold of your composure. "Did you need something from us? I think I have Bryant running CMP for the guys you're training you should have the results tomo--"
"I didn't come here for the blood tests, Y/L/N," he cut you off, giving you another little smile that had your pulse thumping violently at your throat. "I erm…it's Friday." His eyebrows scrunched together in the slightest wince at his words.
"It is…" you echoed lamely, starting to tap away at your phone to get an Uber home, holding back the urge to sigh in relief seeing that your ride was only a few minutes away. "Have a good weekend, then," you tried to wave him off, pointing vaguely at the pick-up area, starting to awkwardly shuffle away from him.
He reached out and wrapped his hand around yours, stopping you before you got away too far. "Actually, I was thinking…perhaps we could go and grab a bite to eat? There's a new place that opened up just a short walk from here. Maybe we could try it out?"
As if on cue, your stomach let out an audible grumble, rudely reminding you that the last time you ate was this morning before you left your house. Before you could dwell on it any further, you canceled your Uber, giving him a tiny smile of your own. "Lead the way."
Dinner was a rather quiet affair, the two of you starting off by sharing a plate of nachos before you ordered your mains. Sometime before your entrees were served, a small group of people you recognized as the privates being trained as the Monarch Defense Team walked through the doors, the women immediately spotting Conrad and tossing a scornful dismissive look your way.
"What's wrong?"
His voice took your attention away from the group, the motion of him reaching across the table to take your hand in his causing a resounding stomp from across the restaurant followed by a barely contained "What the fuck?!"
"It's uhh…it's nothing," you waved off, trying to slowly pull your hand away so as to not elicit a stronger reaction from the group and grab his attention. "Just…thinking about work. I have to put a recommendation for another mission to the island in my report."
"We'll be better prepared this time," he reassured you, his thumb rubbing across the back of your hand in a soothing motion. "We have a better idea of what we're to face when we get there, and what not to do. And with enough time the troop that I'm training might even be field ready, so you and your team would have better protection."
Your neck twitched at the idea of the woman with the derisive eyes being tasked to protect you. Might even just throw you to the gigantic insects voluntarily. "Right…at least the team will be safe."
"And you, Y/N," he insisted, giving your hand a light squeeze. "I'll see to it myself, I promise you."
You nodded at his words, feeling your face strain at the smile you tried to give him before slipping your hand out of his and standing up. "Ladies room, I'll be back in a few."
While you were in line for the restroom, your thoughts wandered to how you could potentially word your recommendation so that maybe you didn't have to go with the rest of the team back to Skull Island. You weren't physically cut out to be in such a high-stress environment, and frankly you would be more of a liability if people had to look out for you on top of trying to survive a hostile environment.
When your turn came up in the queue, you were stopped in your tracks by someone wrapping their hand around your arm in a claw-like grasp, yanking you slightly backwards. "We need to talk, Y/L/N," a woman seethed.
You swore your blood chilled to near freezing point when you saw the woman private from Conrad's troop, her hateful eyes and vicious sneer too close for comfort.
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There was something troubling you, Conrad could tell that much as he watched you in line for the restroom. Much as he usually found it adorable when you were muttering to yourself over your research, he had to fight to resist the urge to stand up and do what he could to somehow put you at ease.
He knew that you weren't all too excited that you had to return to the island, but his gut told him that it was more than just that. You seemed almost fearful when he mentioned the troop that he was training, and not in the way that told him it was simply because you doubted their ability to guarantee your safety.
Did you not realize that he would never even think to put your safety in anyone's hands other than his own? Didn't you know how valuable you were to him? Of course he would keep you safe. He'd put you in the same tent if he could just to make sure you'd never leave his sight.
The sight of a woman marching towards you as if on a war path had him leaving his seat within seconds, immediately recognizing it to be Pearson. When she stopped you from moving and he clocked the vice grip she had on you it had him seeing red. He saw the way you flinched back when she started hissing in your face, her words making every muscle in his body tense and burn with the itch to protect you from someone so obviously spiteful.
"Don't tell me you're the hot date that Captain Conrad turned me down for, this has to be the biggest crock of shit I've ever heard in my life," she spat out. Your face contorted with obvious discomfort from her talon-like hand tightening around your arm, nails undoubtedly digging into your skin.
"Listen, Private Pearson, I think there might just be a misunderstanding," you spoke softly, your tone laced with caution. "He's probably gonna go to said 'hot date' after this, I'm just his friend. We're friends…I think…"
Silly sweet girl, he thought to himself. Are you really so unaware of how I see you?
"Do you really think I'm that stupid, Y/L/N? I don't need to have a PhD in God knows what the ever loving fuck to know that you're into him. The only thing I can't figure out to save my life is what the fuck he sees in a mousey jumpy little thing like you, and where you found the goddamn audacity to steal him away the way you did."
"I'm not trying to steal anyone," you insisted, trying to wrestle your arm out of her hold. "We're just friends, Private Pearson. Anyone with a functioning brain can see that he doesn't want me like that. You want him, he's all yours, you won't hear a peep out of me."
"You better be right," she scoffed, releasing you with a slight shove, causing you to stumble backwards and fight to find your balance for a few seconds before righting yourself on your feet again. "If you know what's good for you, you'll stay the fuck away from him. Preferably before you see what happens when your stupid little face gets me triggered."
Rather than give her a verbal agreement, you simply nodded your head, scurrying off into the restroom, your face looking as if it had been drained of color and your bottom lip quivering with an obvious concern for your own safety.
So this was why you were concerned over your protection detail if you had to return to the island. Of course. Who would ever feel safe if someone assigned to the team that was tasked to protect them behaved the way that Pearson was behaving now? Who was to say that it wasn't beneath her to intentionally endanger you out of sheer spite?
The private let out an arrogant huff, flipping her hair and standing up straight with a smug look on her face before making her way back to her table with the rest of the privates in her troop.
"Pearson," Conrad spoke, letting his irritation over the entire encounter lace his tone. She stopped in her tracks, turning slowly to face him with a touch of fear in her eyes. Good, you should be afraid after the way you just spoke to the woman I love.
"Cap…Captain Conrad, hi!" Her cheeks strained with the smile she tried to keep plastered on her face despite the obvious nervousness that remained in her eyes. "We're so glad you decided to join us after all, we're seated over--"
"You're dismissed. Don't bother coming in on Monday." Her face fell immediately, indignation coloring her expression. "If you cannot treat the people you're expected to defend and protect with professionalism and respect, then you're not fit to stay on this team, let alone be deployed to the island."
"Come on, all this for a shifty little nothing? This is completely unfair!" she scoffed. "You could do so much better than her--"
"Hold your damn tongue, Pearson. I won't have you disrespect her--"
"She can't even hear us!"
"But I can." He began to raise his voice, calling the attention of the other patrons in the restaurant. "That's the woman I love you're talking about. It would be wise for you to choose your next words very carefully."
All the color drained from her face and she stood up straight again, back at full attention. "I apologize, Sir. I'll have my locker cleared before the weekend's over." And then she made her way back to her table, heavy footsteps sounding throughout the whole restaurant.
As Conrad sat back in his seat waiting for you to return, he replayed his own words over and over in his mind. After all this time keeping his emotions bottled in for the sake of preserving what friendship he had with you, the words had finally formed and solidified what had been building ever since the day he met you on the way to that forsaken death island.
He loved you.
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By the time you made your way back to your table, you spotted Conrad signing a receipt and placing his credit card back into his wallet.
"You know I keep a tally on how many times you've refused to let me pay, right?" you sighed, taking out your phone and once again trying to book for an Uber home. "I'm perfectly fine with and capable of splitting the bill."
"Next time."
"I also keep a tally on how many times you've said exacty that." You shuffled your feet awkwardly where you stood, avoiding looking at both him and the table that sat his trainees, including the cruel witch that was Private Pearson. "Well uhm…I should get going, it's getting late. Enjoy your weekend, Conrad."
He reached out before you took another step, placing his hand at the curve of your waist. "Walk with me back to the lab and I'll drive you home."
The sound of a fist slamming down on one of the tables made you take a step back from his hold. You didn't have to look to know who it was or what caused the outburst. "I-I really don't wanna be a bother, it's fine. Really. I can take care of myself."
You tried to step forward again, making him stand from his seat, placing a large hand on your shoulder before running down the length of your arm to lace his fingers between yours. "You could never be a bother for me, Y/L/N," he spoke softly, lightly touching your chin with his other hand. "Come on."
For the most part throughout the drive to your place, he was touching you. Whether it be holding your hand between stoplights to make you stop picking at your fingernails, or rubbing circles on your knee to stop you from fidgeting, all the while keeping his other hand steadily on the wheel.
It was hands down one of the most illegally distractingly attractive things you'd ever seen. A sight that you thought was only reserved for leading ladies in those romance books you read, definitely not something you were supposed to experience in your lifetime.
It had you fighting back the urge to pout when you saw your house start to come into view, knowing that in a few short moments it would all be over. He gave your knee a light squeeze once he'd pulled up in front of your hourse, making quick work to make his way around the front of his car to open the door for you and undo your seatbelt.
The combined scent of his woodsy citrusy cologne and something that was just uniquely him seared itself into your brain as his face was mere inches from yours. He made it even worse reaching for your hand to hold you steady while you stepped out of the car.
"Thanks, Conrad," you muttered when you got to your door, your mind spinning from the feel of him running his thumb across your knuckles. "You should uhm…probably get going. Don't wanna keep you from any other plans you might have tonight."
You felt your pulse start beating furiously at your neck when he answered you. "What plans?"
Didn't Pearson have a full blown meltdown over him talking about a hot date and then seeing you with him at dinner? What the fuck was he going on about?
"Come on, Conrad, you don't have to pretend, it's just us here. Pearson practically yanked my spine from my throat earlier at the restaurant harping on about you having plans tonight so really, I'm sure you have better things to do on a Friday night you don't have to feel like you're…I don't know, obligated? To spend time with me. And at least you'll stop looking like you're doing some weird pity charity work, too--"
"Y/N, stop." He took a step toward you, closing the distance and framed your face in his large hands. "The only plans I had for tonight were with you. Do you remember what I told you all those months ago, that first night I came here?" You only stared at him blankly, wordlessly prompting him to answer it himself. "I wanted to let you know that I'm here. For you. And I still am. I always will be."
Before you could respond, he leaned in, pressing a delicate kiss to your lips. Fleeting, but it resumed the near violent fluttering in your stomach from the contact. He gave you no time to react before he pressed his lips to yours again, wrapping his arms around you and cradling your head with his hand before pressing you against the door.
"Look at me, sweetheart," he breathed out when he broke the kiss. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat when you saw how dilated his pupils had become after that kiss. "How is it that you're so observant of everything around you and yet you fail to see what's right in front of you?"
"Conrad what--"
"How could you look at me and not see a man so desperately, so irretrievably in love?"
You swore all the air left your lungs at his words. In love? No. This couldn't be real. This was beyond simply improbable, this was impossible.
There was no way on this Earth that he felt the same.
"I can almost hear the gears in your brilliant mind turning, Y/L/N," he said softly, weaving his fingers into your hair as he proceeded to press tender kisses on your temple and the side of your face. "Invite me inside. Let me take you to your bedroom. Let me show you what you mean to me."
Before you could think about it any longer, you wordlessly slipped your key into his hand, slowly nodding your head. The only response you got from him was him latching his lips onto your neck, groaning into your skin as he lifted you off the ground with one arm, unlocking your door with the other.
He'd carried you all the way upstairs to your bedroom, constantly pressing a kiss wherever his lips could reach. When he started fumbling for the light switch, you tried to hold out your hand to stop him. "No lights," you muttered. If you wanted this to go anywhere even remotely good tonight, that would require him not running for the hills the second he got you naked.
"Without the lights, I can't see you, sweet girl," he said back teasingly, kissing along your jawline until he captured your lips, smiling into the kiss.
"Exactly," you murmured against his lips, causing him to chuckle against your skin.
"Seeing you is the best part of my day," he told you simply, flipping the switch on and bathing your bedroom in a warm white glow. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of the brilliant smile he gave you once he saw your face. "There you are."
He set you down on your feet, touching the top button of your shirt with a question in his eyes, only proceeding to undo the button when you have him a slight nod. Once enough skin was exposed to him, he started to trace a line of kisses across your collarbone, running his hands down your arms to strip the shirt off from you. And then he sent your mind racing as he gave you the same treatment working both your pants and panties down your legs.
"I've dreamed of this since the island," he whispered into your skin, kissing his way back up to your lips as he reached behind you, unclasping your bra. "Lie down on the bed, my love. Let me see you."
He kept your hand in his as you lowered yourself to lie on your back, your heart thundering in your chest and your lip quivering as his eyes hungrily roamed your body. Thoughts began to swim in your head again, of how different, how much less toned nearly all parts of you were compared to him. Compared to the women he'd been with before. You tried to pull your hand away from his, to start to cover yourself.
Once he realized what you were about to do, he moved to hover over you on the bed, placing his hand in the space between your arm and your torso to block your way. "No," he said simply before leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. "Don't hide yourself from me." He kissed his way down your neck to your chest, paying close attention to your breasts, holding you steady as you squirmed under him while he kissed and sucked your nipples into stiff peaks.
"Conrad…" Your voice came out faint, the air too thick to breathe while you drowned in his attentions. His lips moved down your stomach, peppering kisses along your mound before placing his hands on your inner thighs and gently parting your legs, opening yourself more to him.
You clenched around nothing watching him lick his lips before his eyes found yours, desperate whimpers coming out of you when he started kissing along your inner thighs. The ache between your legs started to grow stronger the closer his mouth got to where you craved him.
"Conrad!" Your back arched off the bed when he licked up the length of your slit and pressed a fleeting open-mouthed kiss to your clit.
"Lay back down, sweetheart." Your back immediately met the mattress again at his soft spoken order, your stomach fluttering violently again at the sight of him standing over you and pulling his shirt over his head. "You are the most breathtaking sight," he breathed out. "My love…"
"Could say the same from here," you shot back, still struggling to breathe properly under his gaze. The air was practically stuck in your throat the second his hands went to his pants, taking his time to undo his belt and pants, every muscle on his perfectly sculpted body moving and flexing as if he was trying to seduce you with such a seemingly mundane action.
As if he needed to seduce you.
The sound that came out of you was borderline inhuman the second he pushed his pants down his legs, and you'd gotten a good look at the sheer size of him. There's no way that's gonna fit, you thought nervously. "Conrad, I don't--" You huffed out a deflated sigh. "It's been an embarrassingly long while since I've--"
"It's alright, sweetheart." He quickly made his way back to his position on the bed, pressing a line of kisses along your jaw until he reached your lips, making an almost relieved sound against your lips. "We'll go slow. Please just tell me if I hurt you, that's the last thing I'd ever want."
Your eyes flew open at the feel of his length pressing against your entrance, your walls stretching just shy of the point of discomfort as you accommodated to his size. Any other thoughts and doubts in your mind took a backseat to the sound of Conrad's soft groans as he inched his way into you.
You'd never felt this unbelievably full.
He moaned your name in your ear. "Like you were made for me." He pressed his lips to your temple, the gesture somewhat calming your erratically beating heart. "I'll keep going now."
"Wait Conrad you what--Oh!" You felt a thrill at the back of your head once he pushed even further in, more arousal rushing and slickening your inner walls clenching around him as if pulling him deeper into you. All you could utter over the overwhelming pleasure he was subjecting you to was a faint whimper of his name.
"I love you, Y/N," he sighed in contentment, his warm exhale hitting your already heated skin before he resumed kissing along the side of your face.
"Don't say that," you blurted out. "You don't have to--"
"I want to," he cut you off, moving his head to capture your lips in a heated kiss, his tongue licking at your bottom lip. "I've wanted to tell you for so long please don't tell me to stop. I can't--"
"No one's ever said it. Not to me. I'm not--I've never been--"
Your words stilled him. He rested his forehead on yours, the tip of his nose brushing against your own. "All the more reason for me to tell you." He muffled your moan with a kiss when he inched in even more. "I love you." He kissed up your neck, gently capturing your earlobe between his teeth before kissing the same spot. "I'll say it so often everyone around us will be sick of hearing me say the words."
"Conrad…" you cried out when he finally bottomed out, your hips flush together. "Please--"
"I love you." He started moving his hips in slow grinding circles, repeating the words every time he fully entered you.
The words were lodged stubbornly in the back of your throat; all you could utter was his name while your body trembled trying to raise your hips to meet his thrusts. Meanwhile a vicious voice in the back of your mind questioned if this was even real, refusing to accept any reality where a guy like James Conrad actually genuinely fell in love with you.
You lived by the saying that if something sounded too good to be true, then it probably was. And this…this sounded like a chick lit romance novel where the devastatingly handsome decommissioned soldier fell for the nerdy scientist that most days couldn't even bother to check if her hair looked alright from the back.
This was definitely too good to be true. And all you could do now was allow yourself the fleeting opportunity to lose yourself in the pleasure he was more than capable of and seemed quite willing to give you.
And brace yourself for the moment he pulled away. The moment he finally realized that yes. Yes he could do better, actually.
Before you could dwell on it any further, he pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts when his fingers made contact with the throbbing bundle of nerves above your entrance, rubbing at the spot with the same languid pace of his thrusts.
"You feel divine, my love," he moaned in your ear, pressing his lips to a spot behind it that sent your mind reeling, the tension tightening in your stomach even further. "Come for me, Y/N." He upped his pressure on your clit, still keeping the pace with his slow, deep thrusts.
The coiling tension finally snapped when he started sucking at your skin, your walls convulsing around him while your body shook under him, your hold on his shoulder blade weakening until you finally let go, arm landing on the mattress with a soft thud. He stilled his movement inside you, capturing your lips in a tender kiss while you came down from your high.
"I love you," he kept whispering between kisses. The words had you feeling the traitorous tears prickling in the back of your eyes, every part of you filled with the overpowering urge to say them back. Tell him that you felt the same.
Instead you wanted to slap yourself for the question that slipped from your mouth. "Wait what about you?"
The smirk he gave you in response had thrills shooting throughout your body, feeling the faintest tinge of embarrassment in the back of your mind when you felt your pussy clenching around him at the sight. His mouth stretched into a devilish grin as he thrusted into you in return, his eyes filled with an obvious mix of sexual and romantic intent.
"Don't you worry about me, sweetheart," he rasped, starting to slowly grind his hips again. "We're nowhere near done."
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He's not coming back. He left the bedroom and give it time, you're gonna hear him leave the house.
You were being irrational, and most of your mind recognized your thoughts for what they were: absolutely batshit crazy and dead wrong. For one, Conrad left the room without a stick of clothing covering him, telling you he was going to get water. He didn't know how to navigate most of your house so it would reasonably take him a few minutes to actually go get it and come back up.
That didn't stop you from making your way to the head of the bed, and crawling under the covers, drawing your knees to your chest as if you were bracing yourself for emotional impact. You caught a glimpse of your reflection on the full-length mirror, instinctively bringing your hand up to your hair to start working at the knots and tangles that developed over the last few hours.
Conrad came back to the room at that moment, holding a water bottle and two cups, giving you a soft smile as he looked on at all the effects from your lovemaking. "You look like an angel…perched on a cloud." He handed you your cup before pouring one for himself, raising an eyebrow at you when you remained sitting motionless and staring at him blankly. "What is it, sweetheart?"
"I just--I thought you were just gonna get for--"
"Myself?" You nodded at him once he finished for you, making him click his tongue in disappointment, realizing what kind of experiences you'd had before. "You're making it too easy for me to spoil you. I could never be so selfish." He briefly touched his glass to yours, the clinking sound filling the room before you both downed your drinks.
Even while he climbed back onto the bed, situating himself beside you and pulling you into his arms, your irrational thoughts that he'll redress himself in a few minutes time and leave plagued your mind.
"You're looking at me like you expect me to disappear," he murmured, lightly tracing along the lines of your face with his fingertips. "What's wrong, Y/N?"
Come on, you stupid little scaredy cat just tell him. Three words. Three monosyllabic words so simple a kid can say them. Just say it.
"You're still here," you blurted out, immediately wanting to swallow your tongue when his face dropped.
Wrong three words, you fucking idiot.
"Do you want me to leave?" His words came out strained, as if it physically hurt him to say them.
"No, I don't. It's just…I expect it. And if I can be honest I'm still kind of…waiting."
"Waiting for what?"
You pursed your lips, a part of you already feeling silly for the words about to come out your mouth. "Post-coital clarity?"
He let out a slow sigh, his hold tightening around you while he cupped your face with his free hand, stroking along your cheekbone with his thumb. "And what in the world is that?"
"It's this--Honestly it's silly, really--"
"It doesn't seem silly to you." He leaned in to press a soft kiss to your lips, pulling you closer when you melted against him at the gesture. "So it's not silly to me. Tell me what it is."
You took a deep breath, your fingers absentmindedly tracing along the lines on his abdomen while you explained. "It's this phenomena that…once you've slept with someone, the attraction goes away. Your mind's more clear, you're no longer overpowered by this attraction and you realize that the person you just had sex with isn't as appealing as they were before you got together."
It took him a few seconds before he spoke again, maneuvering you so that you were now on top of him, straddling his stomach, his hands skimming up and down your sides.
"Why is it so hard for you to accept that I love you?"
The question seemed so ridiculous to you. "Because nobody ever has. Nobody does--"
"You're wrong," he cut you off, pulling you close until your chests were pressed together. "I know it might not happen often but it's happening now. You're wrong, and I'm living proof of it. Because I'm here. I'm here and I love you. The only clarity that came to me is that I want more than anything for us to become more. For what we shared tonight be more than a one-time thing."
He wrapped his arms tighter around you, pulling you into a tender kiss that had your heart fluttering when he licked into your mouth, his tongue gliding against yours. "I'm no good with words," you said breathlessly when he broke the kiss, his chest heaving against yours. "I've never been able to say how I feel, I can't--"
"Shh it's alright, sweetheart," he breathed, holding you by the back of your neck to rest your forehead against his. "You don't need those fancy words you use in your report. It's just us here. Whatever you wish to tell me, in the plainest words--"
"I love you, too."
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A/N: I've finally finished this mega chonker of a piece! And I've given 'you deserve better' Conrad his happy ending with his precious bb 🥹🥹
Next up is the final story in the Kinktober 2023 initial goal: Fingering with President Loki 😳👀 And lemme just tell y'all now…it's gonna be at least 2k words long because I haven't even gotten to the smutting yet 🥴
'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog
Kinktober taglist: @azula-karai-27
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mothwingwritings · 3 months
Text
Frohe Weihnachten
Boyfriend To Death Strade X F! Reader X Ren
MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!!! By some miracle of the holiday season I have arrived and even wrote something, even if it is random and I struggled to get finished before Christmas. But I did it and now  I offer it to you humbly as a lil gift.
This month has unfortunately bad. All the bad had me looking for distractions to keep me from the gloom, and the search for distractions lead me to replaying Boyfriend To Death 1, and replaying BTD made me start Boyfriend to Death 2, and well… Here we are. It’s been one of the few things I could focus on that brought me joy this month (what that says about my mental health we will leave up to interpretation loooooool :)), so I decided to try my hand at writing something for it. It proved to be a fun challenge, and I am hoping to do some more BTD stuff in the future. :3
ANYWAY here is a Strade-centric fic (Ren is there too, though) I churned out amidst the December bs. He’s spoiling you in it which isn’t really a good thing for you. I hope I did him justice. He is a very nuanced guy and I had a lot of fun writing this. I can slowly feel god awful, horrible men  becoming my forte , and at this point I am just embracing it.
Please be mindful that BTD and BTD2 are adult games, so even though there is no explicit NSFW in this fic, it is for 18+ only just as its source material is. No one under the age of 18 should be reading this, thank you!
WARNINGS: Torture, stabbing, blood, degradation, forced stripping, pet play, mentions of rape/noncon, Strade is filming a snuff film and though you are a part of it, you are not the one being snuffed (congrats!), severing of body parts, nonconsensual filming and touching, kidnapping, imprisonment, butchered German (my highschool German teacher is crying somewhere) and probs some shoddy editing (sorry for the rush!).
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Staring down at the gifts laid out before you, a thin layer of sweat began to coat your body.
It wasn’t so much that the boxes wrapped in vibrant, pretty, paper were that unnatural (it was Christmas day, after all) so much as it was shocking that you had received them at all, given the circumstances.
This was your first Christmas away from home, the first holiday season spent without the company of your friends and family, and their absence felt like a swift punch in the gut. None of the old traditions and celebrations you were accustomed to partaking in were around to bring you comfort this year, the laid back, pleasant atmosphere that typically encapsulated  Christmas was nowhere to be found. Any jolly vibe was replaced by discomfort, apprehension, and a festering disquiet that permeated the air, killing any and all fun normal for this day.
Across from the looming assortment of gifts, each wrapped in varying degrees of expertise, sat your captor Strade, and parked next to him was your fellow captive Ren. Both sets of eyes were drinking you in with great interest, the out-of-place youthful enthusiasm reflecting back at you doing little to quell your mounting anxiety. You shifted nervously in your seat, trying your best to remain calm. You had no idea what manner of sick surprise awaited you in those packages, all you knew was that you were dreading opening them, especially with these two watching. Thinking of what the wrong reaction to their presents may illicit was more stress inducing than the gifts themselves, which already made you feel like you were developing a hernia.
“Well, go ahead,” Strade was the first to speak, his lazy drawl and splayed out body contradicting heavily with the frenzied look in his eye, “What are you waiting for?”
Ren nodded beside him eagerly, “Go ahead, (name)! I opened mine earlier because I was too excited to wait,” he chuckled a little, a small, bashful blush illuminating his cheeks, “And um, there’s a few for you in there from me so… I hope you like them.”
Your eyes traveled from the men, down to the presents. You swallowed thickly, overwhelmed by their façade of innocence, violated by their unblinking stares.
“I-I’m sorry, I just um… Wasn’t really expecting… this…”
It wasn’t a lie, the last thing you could have predicted was a present, let alone multiple. You figured maybe Ren would get you something (he had the luxury of internet access, something you were yet to be trusted with), but it wasn’t even within the realm of fantasy that you may receive anything from Strade. The only thing you dared hope for was a small reprieve from the abuse he inflicted daily, but even that seemed too farfetched to hope for.
“Well, I say you deserve it,” Strade spoke, the calm cadence of his voice still clashing with the gleam in his eye, “what’s Christmas without presents, after all? So go ahead, open them.”
You hesitated for a moment before finally reaching a shaky hand towards the closet gift on the table. Your body was moving mechanically, and though your fear was palpable, you forced your demeanor to remain composed as you pulled the small box into your lap. Your fingers carefully tore through the thin paper, dreading revealing the mystery that shiny paper shielded you from.
And as the paper fell away piece by piece, you were shocked to find that the box contained… slippers.
You stared at them for a moment, dumbfounded. Of all the things in the world that could have been waiting inside that box, to receive something so innocuous and normal was beyond perplexing.
And the gifts continued this way. You unwrapped package after package of clothing, perfumes and toiletries, stuffed animals and snacks. Each new item bewildered you just as much as the last, leaving you feeling like all this was just the lead up of  a joke, one you felt like you were the punch line for.
 As if the gifts themselves weren’t mind boggling enough, the quantity and quality of them were just as shocking. Brand names and fancy, high end packaging stared back at you with nearly each ripped wrapping, a small slap in the face with each revelation.
It left a pit in your stomach. Not even your own parents would gift you some of these things, so why were you being treated this way by a homicidal maniac and his companion? To make matters even worse, most of the gift you actually liked. Definite thought was put into each present, unnerving you most of all. You didn’t want them to know your likes and dislikes, and you certainly didn’t want them to be so familiar with you that they could easily pick out things you may desire. It felt borderline offensive that they were able to peg you so well, like you had been wrenched open and all the hidden parts of yourself you had been hiding had been forced out in the open, secrets uncovered you wished to remain hidden.
Heebie jeebies aside, such normalcy left you scratching your head. You had an intense urge to inspect each and every item to make sure the clothes weren’t secretly lined with razors, or the stuffed animals weren’t just cute ways to conceal knives, but you contained yourself. No use in setting them off when things were going surprisingly well.
You kept yourself neutral as you thanked them, neither over eager or ungrateful as you graciously accepted the offerings. Ren beamed in recognition each time you mentioned him, delighted by the simplest praise. Strade remained nonchalant, leaning back as he leered at you with that unnerving smile he always so proudly donned on his face.
When the present pile had come to an end, an overwhelming sense of relief washed over you. You felt like you had made it out of a vary harrowing journey without so much as a scratch, and felt quite accomplished for doing so.
However, before you could feel the weight truly lifted from your shoulders, any sense of triumph quickly flew out the door as Strade slowly leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His beady eyes drilled holes through you, delighting in the apprehension his subtle shift caused you. Your blood turned to ice as he gave you a lopsided grin, his words coming out drawn out and slow, as if he were speaking to a child.
“Myyy look at that,” he sneered, “so many nice things for our (Name)! She must have some very generous admirers. It’s obvious she’s the favorite, not a single one of those boxes were for you or me, Ren!”
The weight of your situation suddenly crashed down around you. Of course these gifts wouldn’t come without some horrible caveat-you were an idiot for even thinking you would get away with this scot free.
You tried to calm yourself with the fact that Strade most likely wouldn’t go through all the hassle of spending all this money on someone he planned to kill shortly after. What would be the point? But that thought birthed an even worse fear, the expectation of getting something back in return. There wasn’t a chance in hell that you would be able to provide him a physical gift, a fact Strade was intimately aware of. That left you with one option- he was looking for reciprocation through different means.
You swallowed hard, your hands shaking as you clasped them in your lap, struggling with how to word the imminent question you had.
“Do you want… I mean, should I get you something in return?”
You hated how small your voice sounded, dreading the response your words may garner. A shiver rocked you as the smile on Strade’s face spread, his arms spreading out in a dramatic shrug as he shook his head with a laugh.
“No no, please! The only thing I want in return is for you to thoroughly enjoy your gifts, nothing else is needed. Your delight is a gift in and of itself.”
His words did little to help your dwindling nerves. A sudden harsh clap of his hands made your heart skip a beat, his body pivoting to face Ren with a sadistic smile.
“I almost forgot,” he exclaimed, his voice taking a dangerous edge, “we have one more very special surprise for our girl, don’t we?”
Your attention darted to Ren, hoping for a sign of assurance from him. The beatskin started to squirm a bit in his seat, pulling nervously at the hem of his oversized sweater. He looked over at you with lidded eyes, a dangerous gleam in them that you knew was a terrible precursor of the pain to come. 
Ren’s breathing had grown unsteady, the blush that had engulfed his face becoming so vibrant you could almost feel its heat from where you sat. While there was nervousness to his demeanor, he couldn’t quite mask the hints of his exhilaration from peeking through. The guileless enthusiasm was hard to face, causing you to avert your gaze, your heart sinking deeper. Ren was no saint himself, but he was all you had in this hell that masqueraded as a normal, middle class home. He was supposed to have your back (and often times did) in moments like these, but it appeared his demons won this round. The thrill radiating from him over your oncoming misery was perceptible. You were on your own with whatever lay ahead.
With a jerk of Strades head, Ren bounded off the couch to another room, the sound of subtle clanging reaching your ears as he dug around out of sight. You careened your body, hoping to maybe get a peek of whatever the hell Ren had ran so jubilantly to acquire, but you immediately stopped once you heard a chuckle rumble from Strade’s chest.
“My my~,” he purred, the sound causing an instinctive shiver, “so eager this morning (name)! I can only hope you keep that up once you see what the surprise actually is, hm?”
Before you had a chance to respond, Ren barreled back into the room, slightly out of breath and clutching some sort of metallic, chain linked contraption in is hand.
“Sorry,” he lightly huffed, handing the item in question to Strade, “I hid it really well so it took a moment to get.”
Once it was in his grasp, Strade turned to you, holding out the item so you could finally view it in all its glory.
It was a new collar-a dog training collar, to be precise. This one however had been modified, the spikes lining the interior of the collar, while typically coated with a thick, squishy plastic to as not to hurt the dog in their training stage, were missing their protection. The metal nubs that the plastic encased were also typically dull and rounded on most training collars, meant to poke and prod instead of maim and hurt. You would not be getting that manner of gentle encouragement it seemed, your body tensing as you stared at each harshly pointed spike. The needle like protrusions glistened so brilliantly in the overhead light it almost appeared as if the collar was made of diamonds.
You sat perfectly still, in a complete daze as Strade approached you and swiftly released the thick electric collar from around your neck. The cool air hit your sweat drenched flesh, giving you a chill. While it was nice to be without the weight of that vile contraption, the freedom was only momentary as he clasped your new chain links into place across your throat. Though it was much more delicate than your previous collar, for some reason it felt much heavier than its bulky electric counterpart.
You winced as he gave the leash a small pull, grinning when a sharp, shocked cry fell past your lips. The needles hadn’t broken the skin yet, but the action did make you become keenly aware of just much damage they could cause with very minimal effort. The delicate nature of your current standing was looking bleaker with each passing second, uncontrollable shivers wracking your body as you eyed Strade fiddling carelessly with your leash. He seemed pleased by the attention his minor ministrations were awarding him, humored by the pain he could bring you with a mere flick of his wrist.
“I-it looks pretty on you, (Name),” Ren stuttered, a nervous smile complimenting the red of his cheeks, “Kind of dainty, like a fancy necklace. It really suits you.”
“It is pretty, isn’t it?” Strade jeered, fingering the chains that hung heavy around your neck, “I considered one for you too Ren, I didn’t want to make you jealous, you know? But then I figured hell, if I get this for (Name) Ren’ll probably enjoy this just as much as I do, so it’s already a two for one deal.”
Giving your cheek a few mild slaps, Strade turned his gaze towards Ren, “I trust that you’ll take good care of (Name) if I’m ever out and about and you want to have some special fun with her. A little pet time for my pet would do him some good, I think.”
The flippant insinuation made bile rise in the back of your throat.
“Now,” Strade pulled tighter on the leash, prompting you to rise to your feet and stand before the men. He lifted the chain above his head, laughing as you rose to tiptoes to avoid gouging your neck, “What do we say after we receive such a nice present, hmmm~?”
“Thank you,” you choked the words through your indignation, the spikes scratching uncomfortably against your skin as you did so. After several seconds of your balancing act, Strade lowered his hand, granting you the ability to stand normally. You released the breath you were holding, thankful that for at least this moment, you escaped agony.
“So ein gutes Mädchen für mich,” he cooed condescendingly, patting your head as if you were an actual dog, “you are really making me proud! But the fun isn’t over yet, in fact, this is just the first part of your special surprise,” his eyes widened at your obvious despair, “Aren’t you lucky?”
Without further ado he stomped past you, leash gripped tightly in his hand as he led your further into the house. While there was more leeway to the leash than anticipated, you still hustled to follow after him, fearful of the barbs encircling your throat. His whistled as he walked, his demeanor so exuberant that for a moment you felt he might start skipping. Ren trailed behind you, following closely in your footsteps.
It didn’t take long for you to catch on to where you were headed. As you came to stop before the thick, iron door that separated the rest of the house from the hell-hole that was the basement, tidal wave of fear washed over you. Strade took a deep breath, relishing all that was too come, immersed in the anticipation he was undoubtedly feeling. He turned to you and smiled, and you fought to keep a grip on your sanity. Feeling feint, your eyes flicked from him, back to the imposing door. Your heart was banging so violently in your chest from the sheer amount of terror that was coursing through your veins that you worried you may pass out.
How many people had met cruel, agonizing fates down those stairs? How many gallons of blood had dripped down the walls, pooled on the floor, snaked through the drains? How many anguished screams had reverberated off those sound proof walls?
You began to panic as Strade opened the door with ease, wasting no time making his way down. You hadn’t been to the basement since Strade had kidnapped you many months ago and you had hoped it would be a place that you never found yourself in again. It relieved you when Strade had forbid you and Ren from stepping foot down there, one of the few orders he gave that you were actually happy to oblige. Strade only took people to the basement for one reason and one reason only, and the fact that he was so pleasantly dragging you down there right now did not bode well for you in the slightest.
“W-wait,” you called out nervously, grabbing at the chain leash in an attempt to stop his descent. “W-why are we going down here?”
“Because it’s where the rest of your present is,” he answered as if it were obvious, a tinge of annoyance in his voice as he shot you a pointed look, “Now come on.”
You opened your mouth to speak, but a gentle touch on your shoulder stopped you.
“It’s ok, (Name),” Ren’s voice sounded softly in your ear. You could tell he was doing his best to sound reassuring. “We are allowed down there today, Strade said we could as a special treat for Christmas. It’s OK, I promise,” he gave your shoulder a small squeeze, before planting a fleeting kiss to your cheek, “I’ll be with you the whole time.”
His words did little to assuage the overwhelming terror you were feeling, sinking its claws deep in your battered soul, holding you in a death grip. You were past the point of a panic attack, now fearing a heart attack may be what does you in. At this point you wondered if that would be a mercy over whatever awaited you down there.
Forced breathes rattled from your lungs, erratic and strained as you stared into Strade’s expectant eyes, knowing his patience was rapidly diminishing. As much as you wanted to get whatever was coming over with, your legs lost the ability to move, your body denying every command your brain was giving to take the first step.
Hesitating a moment too long elicited a brutal tug from Strade, effectively ending your indecision as you were sent tumbling down after him. You whimpered as you felt the barbs of the collar tear into your flesh. Small rivulets of blood snaked from each fresh wound, dripping down your shoulders, back, and chest to strain the collar of your shirt. As a rare act of mercy, Strade caught you, his thick arm acting as a barrier between you and the concrete you were plummeting head first towards.  For once you were thankful to be within the monster’s grasp, a sore chest and aching shoulder from where he grabbed you were far better than any injury you would have attained from the fall.
Consumed by a rush of adrenaline from the tumble, you neglected to realize your hands had latched to Strade’s arm like a lifeline. Embarrassment flooded you, quickly prompting you to release your hold on him. He laughed at the flush on your cheeks, your body jostling along with the rumble of his chest. His hand relinquished its grip on your shoulder, leaving behind angry red fingerprints, as if he had seared your flesh with a mere touch. His newly freed hand moved to tangle itself in your hair, eliciting a whimper as his nails dug into your scalp. Each place his body made contact with yours felt like it was burning.
Without warning, he roughly brought the side of your head to his lips, the stubble of his cheeks scratching your skin as he smashed his face against yours, taking in a deep breath. Excited puffs of breath tickled your ear as he spoke.
 “Hurry up now,” his voice was gruff, but the words came out in a sing-song manner, “Don’t start misbehaving now, it would be a total bummer if you had to miss out on this, (Name)~”
With a wistful sigh he released his hold, leaving your momentarily reeling as you stumbled back, trying to reclaim your baring’s. Strade didn’t give much of a chance to do so, continuing on his way with another yank of the leash, forcing you to scramble after him once more.
Your body gave an involuntary shiver as your feet touched the chilly concrete floor. Strade flipped the lights, causing you to recoil at the sudden brightness. Your eyes grew watery as they struggled to adjust, but when they finally did you wished more than ever you could have just remained in the dark.
Though you hadn’t been in the basement since the week of your capture, everything was just as you remembered it. Horrible memories flooded your mind as you took in your surroundings, your brain assaulted by flashbacks of months prior. All the same home appliances and tools still lined the back wall, typically innocent devices most people used for repair jobs and building projects that no one would take a second glance at were this a normal basement. In Strades hands however, they became tools of destruction and torment, capable of the vilest atrocities.
You heard the loud whirring of the freezer off to the side before you saw it, the outdated device still valiantly chugging away as it preserved god knows what on its rickety inner shelves. The noise it spewed was so grating you wondered why he didn’t just replace the damn thing, or at least try and fix it. Near it stood the work table that housed his buzzsaw, looming ominously as it waited patiently for its next use (whether that be for flesh or for wood, who was to say?).
Witnessing these normally mundane items again made your chest hurt, a deep, indescribable level of horror spreading through every inch of your body as you struggled to reacclimate yourself. You were sure this place would haunt you as long as you lived, whether you stood in it or not didn’t matter.
Your throat went dry as you stared at the dark stains that littered the floor, remnants of various human’s bodily fluids. Blood, vomit, piss, and everything else that may leak from a human corpse was so continuous and abundant that there was no hope of the marks ever diminishing. Something told you Strade didn’t seem to mind, however. If anything, seeing those stains probably brought him some level of happiness, acting as pleasant little reminders of all the slaughter he had committed, a trophy for the lives he had stolen.
And there, smack dab in the middle of the basement stood the support beam he had tied you to, effectively barring your escape from this place. Witnessing it again was bad enough, but as your eyes locked onto it your heart started racing once more, your terror hitting unprecedented levels at the realization that there was a body there, tied up and trapped just as you once were.
At first you thought maybe you were hallucinating, seeing some phantom version of yourself your mind had conjured under the extreme stress you were facing. But as you continued to stare, noticing the slight rise and fall of their chest, hearing the small wheezes coming from their direction with each motion, it became apparent they were no figment of your imagination. Long hair fell from their slumped head, obscuring your vision of their face, but judging by what you could see of their body they looked to be around your age, similar to your build. You couldn’t help but wonder if you shared other features, had the same eye color, or maybe a similar facial structure.
You couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe Strade picked them because they reminded him of you.
Witnessing another human in this state made your stomach turn. It wasn’t so long ago that you were in that exact situation, and seeing them there helpless and oblivious to what lay before them filled you with the distressing urge to try and rescue them. If you could only run to them, untie their bindings and embrace them, let them know you were there for them and that they would be ok… Stupidly wisheful thinking, but maybe a miracle could still happen and that sweet lie would come true…
You shook your head slightly, dispelling the thought. No, it was all a tragic pipe dream, the fact they were here meant they were as good as dead and there wasn’t a damn thing you could do to stop that.
“Hey!”
Strade barked, breaking you from the spell you were under. You jumped to attention, your wide eyes turning to him to give him your full attention. His scowl lessened at your recognition, “I know it’s all very exciting (Name), but pay attention when I am talking to you, alright?”
“Sorry,” your mouth barely formed the word, spitting it out so fast you wondered if it was even understandable. You were still in shock from being in such a terrible place, your brain lost in a fog as it struggled to comprehend why you were here, what Strade wanted of you, who that person on the floor was, and if you would make it through the day.
He sighed before stepping closer to you, irritation still lingering in his features. You fought every urge telling you to bolt, your body jolting as he gently patted your cheeks. After a few soft pats to garner your attention his strong hands continued to cup your cheeks, cradling your face in his palms. His skin was warm, the sweat from his hand moistening your skin as his thumb traced absentminded circles across scars he had created.
“Strip.”
The command didn’t register at first, making him lose patience. As you stood stock still his brows began to knit, foot tapping a bit as he waited for you to comply. After several seconds of inactivity on your end, he snapped his fingers in realization, his expression relaxing as something donned on him.
“Oh wait, it’s probably hard with the collar, right? Don’t worry, I’ll help you out.”
From an unseen back holster, he brandished an imposing hunting knife, one that you would remember anywhere. It was the same one he tormented you the day he met you, the feel of it on your skin seared into your memory for all eternity. It had done a brilliant job keeping you at bay when he first imprisoned you, serving him well as the main tool that broke you.
Seeing it again was all too overwhelming, all too horribly familiar. Your body quaked, tears starting to flood your eyes, making your vision waver. Your lips moved, your throat struggling to speak, fighting to come up with something, anything that may stop him from using it on you. But ultimately there was nothing you could force out, so you just stood there blankly, flapping your lips in a failed attempt at self-preservation.
“What’s wrong?” Strade pouted, pulling at your collar, forcing you closer to him. You could barely feel the pain through your terror. “If you have something to say, you should say it. Or are you just so thrilled by all this that you can’t form a coherent thought,” he tutted, “Ah, I know the feeling well (Name), but don’t suddenly go mute on me! I want to fully enjoy all of your reactions, so don’t hold back. Think of it as your gift to me.” You shivered as he placed the knife under your shirt, cutting away haphazardly at the thin fabric, uncaring that he was nicking your flesh in the process.
With his body so near, the only sound you could focus on was Strade’s labored, rasping breathes as they rattled from his throat. He blithely ripped what was left of your clothing from your body, leaving it discarded in torn heaps on the ground. Thankfully he spared your underwear, but as his fingers languidly played with the strap of your bra, you wondered if he wouldn’t also reconsider letting you keep what remained of your decency.
“Tonight will be so good, meine Haustier,” his voice sounded hoarse, thick with anticipation as he hovered over you, nuzzling his face into your hair, “… This reminds me a lot of the night I brought you home. Maybe I am just feeling nostalgic, having you down here with me again, but it’s hard not to get wrapped up in such fond memories.”
He chuckled, “I’m thankful I was able to reel myself in back then and keep you, no matter how much I wanted to do otherwise.” He pointed his knife to the unconscious body on the floor, “This one I brought here today won’t be nearly as fun as you were, so I don’t want you to feel jealous, alright? You’re where you are for a reason, just as they are where they are for a reason. Mein Liebchen, I’m so glad I can share this moment with you...”
He pressed in closer to you, an unmistakable bulge in his pants grazing the exposed flesh of your leg as he did so. You both shuddered at the brief contact, though his reaction was for reasons far different than your own.
“This intimacy is nice, don’t you think? Sharing your passions with those close to you is what meaningful relationships are allllll about.”
He pulled away from you slightly, pressing the blade of his knife under your chin. Wincing at the briefest of contact with the blade, you raised your head to avoid slicing of your chin, stopping once you were eye to eye with Strade. Your noses nearly touched as he took in the features of your face, smiling at the sheer horror reflected in your eyes.
“And I want to remind you just how passionate I can be~”
He spun you around, giving you an abrupt shove. Unable to keep your balance you fell forward, your knees colliding with the stony floor. A hiss of pain slipped past your lips at the contact as Strade kneeled down next to you, tangling his fingers once more in your hair. With a sharp yank, he pulled your head up, directing your attention to the far corner of the room.
With his guidance, your gaze landed on something new.  A cage you couldn’t recall ever seeing filled your took up a sizable chunk of the side wall, making you wonder how you missed see it to begin with. How he got such an unwieldy contraption down the stairs previously without your notice was also lost on you. The thing looked far too heavy for one person to easily transport, even if it came in pieces.
It looked incredibly sturdy, each side comprised of thick, imposing iron bars. The cage was moderately sized- large enough for people to sit in, but not so large that it would be a comfortable arrangement. At a glance, it seemed to be made for a dog, but the girth of the bars and thick padlock on the door were completely unnecessary features for a canine, even the largest and most aggressive dog breeds wouldn’t need something so robust to keep them contained. Strade must have had it special made, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out who it was made for. You clenched your fists, fighting the queasiness that this new facet of the day brought to the table. You knew the cage shouldn’t have surprised you as much as it did, but you couldn’t help but be a bit addled by it. You briefly wondered if there was a limit to how much he would spend to fuel his sick intentions.
The cage sat off to the side, out of the way of the main walkway and slightly hidden behind the stairs so that it wasn’t immediately noticeable, but it was still close enough to the rest of the rooms fixtures that anyone trapped inside would have a clear view or what was happening around them. Which you figured was the point. What better seat for an unwilling audience?
“I originally bought this for Ren, but he was much easier to house train then you were.” Strade laughed, removing his hand from your hair to clap you on the shoulder. He turned his gaze to Ren who stood by the cage expectantly, waiting to fulfill his role in the nights unfolding misery. “Why don’t you show her inside, Ren? Get yourselves all comfy for the show.”
With a quick nod, Ren scampered in before you, giving you just enough room to squeeze in beside him. Nestling in, he turned to you with a strange mix of fear and anticipation in his eyes, patting the area next to you with a small smile on his lips.
“Come in, (Name),” he looked up at you through his lashes, bashful despite the situation he willingly crawled into, “There’s plenty of room.”
Strade gave you no opportunity to refute his invitation, dragging you along the floor by the collar until you arrived at the cages entrance. You gagged as the spikes dug into your flesh, your fingers attempting to find purchase and pull them out. But your grip kept slipping, the blood that coated each metallic link making it impossible to pry away.
At the entrance, Strade quickly unlatched your adjoining leash, pushing the side of his foot against your ass to shove you into the cage, treating you much the same way you would a misbehaving dog. He slammed the door behind you the moment your limbs were barely through the door, preventing you from backtracking. He hastily secured the huge padlock after he did so, effectively trapping you and Ren inside.
“I know you’ll watch, but I can’t trust her,” Strade spoke to Ren, kneeling down so that he was eye level with the two of you, “Latch her collar to the top bar, I want her focused.”
Ren was quick to follow orders, contorting himself around you so he could bind you to the cage. Part of you hoped he would show mercy, sneakily attaching the collar to a lower bar on the cage to give you more breathing room. As you felt the spikes dig farther into your skin that dream dashed from your mind. You choked back a sob as you heard the clasp click into place behind you, Ren planting a fleeting kiss to the top of your head as he did so, his way of begging forgiveness for the pain he was helping inflict
Sitting with your back completely straight, you kept your legs tucked under you, the full weight of your body supported by your knees. The slightest bit of slouching, leaning, or turning your head would plunge the spikes into your already torn up neck, amplifying your suffering. Locked into place, you were left with no choice but to sit at attention.
Maybe you could have unclasped the collar yourself for a bit of reprieve, you were sure after some blind fumbling you could figure out how to free yourself. But stuck behind a formidable lock with Strade on the other side, what would be the point? There was no place for you to run to, and if you disobeyed Strade at this point you were a sitting duck. A heavy sense of resignation settled in your soul. You no longer fought the tears that came to your eyes, letting them freely dribble down your checks to land in soft drops on your lap.
With no hope of escape, that left you with one option to get through this-endure.
“Überraschung,” Strade exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air as he stared down at you with wild, manic eyes. “What a sight this is! I must say (Name), even though your overall your obedience has improved, you still have quite the rebellious streak, don’t you?” He leaned down to get a better view of you, breathing deeply as his face began turning red from excitement, “Not that I don’t like when you get feisty, training and domesticating wild animals is something I take great pleasure in after all. But I have to say, seeing you like this?” He released an elongated, low whistle. “Schön. Keeping you has been worth it for moments like this. You really are a treat, behavioral issues and all.”
He exhaled as he slowly rose to his feet, his eyes never once leaving yours. “This is good, natural even. You belong here, (Name). Chained up like that… You’re right where you are supposed to be.”
His words were shaky, his composure slipping as his tongue trailed his bottom lip. The flush of his cheeks was now also creeping down his neck, ardent lust seeping from his expression. You shivered. Were it not for these bars separating you, you loathed to think what atrocities he would commit against you in this amped up state.
You bit back the retort that threatened to spill from your quivering jaw, biting so hard on your bottom lip you tasted blood. You hated him, loathed him with your entirety, but you also understood that one misspoken word was all it would take for you to be swapped with whatever unfortunate soul was tied to that pole. Despite it all, you still wanted to live. Clinging to the hope that someday you would get the chance to leave this place behind and return to the life that was stolen from you.
Making your freedom a reality was your daily affirmation you repeated to yourself, the one thing that truly kept you going. You made a promise to yourself that Strade would someday turn into nothing more than a horrible nightmare, a dirty smear in your past, and you very much intended to keep that promise. You would someday live out the rest of your life happy and safe, surrounded by friends and family, people you loved and who would love you in turn. Maybe you would even get married, have a kid or two.
Part of you knew thinking that way was foolish, and it usually caused you more despair than bringing you any true peace. But even if it was a silly dream, it was all you had. Strade has already stolen everything else, so you clung to your dream as your only salvation, relying on it as a means of survival.  
You had to make it through this, you had to get away and rebuild yourself from the shattered pieces Strade had broken you into. Not just for yourself, but for everyone he had ever murdered and brutalized. It was the only way you could beat him. It was the only way you could win.
“Well, no point in making any of us wait any longer,” Strade announced as he turned on his heel, making his way over to the slumped form in the center of the room. Your heart went out to them as he directed his full attention their way, staring down at them with a crazed, bloodthirsty smile. “This is pretty new for me too, ya know? Usually this is ‘me’ time, moments I can work and enjoy myself with the new friends I bring in in peace. But having a live audience? That’s sure gonna add some thrill to this.”
He turned his attention back towards you and Ren, his face glowing in excitement. “And I figured what the hell! It’s Christmas, right? Why be greedy when I can share in the celebration!  Ren already loves watching my little home movies, so I thought, ‘why not do a special live performance for my two favorite individuals?’”
Your body lurched in horror as Strade abruptly kicked his hostage square in the stomach, the force of it waking them with an agonized groan. You gasped as they coughed in pain, spit and blood sputtering from their mouth as slowly they came to. You watched on in morbid silence, a frown spreading across your lips when as you noticed the dawning horror that came over them. They were no longer in an ignorant fog of sleep, fully aware now that something truly dreadful was about to happen to them. 
Terrified recognition filled their eyes when they landed on Strade. Instantly they started to cry, whimper and plead, leaving you to wonder just how badly things went down between the two of them before you all ended up down here.
Trembles wracked your body, each quiver faintly clanging the metal of your collar against the cage. How you yearned to deafen your ears, gouge out your eyes, or will yourself away from what was unfolding before you. The mere thought of witnessing the oncoming torture, reliving your own capture through this doomed sod…  it was all too much. If given the opportunity, you would have done anything to flee and hide.
But there was no running from this. You couldn’t turn away. You couldn’t do anything at all.
“Hey buddy, calm down!” Strade spoke in a light hearted manner, invading the captive’s personal space as he crouched down in front of them. “Don’t you know it’s Christmas? Since you were looking so sad all alone at that bar last night I decided to play the role of Santa and give you a little gift! I took you in out of the goodness of my heart, because no one deserves to be alone on the holiday, right? And look,” He roughly grabbed their chin, forcing their tear stained face towards your cage, “I even brought friends to assure you wouldn’t be lonely! Pretty thoughtful of me, huh?”
You averted your stare as soon as they made eye contact, unable to stand the sheer hopelessness reflected in their forlorn gaze. Their whimpering and pleading continued, unfettered by the dialogue Strade was droning on. The desperation in their voice as they tried to reason with the most unreasonable man on the planet was making your skin crawl, irritation setting your face into a scowl. Couldn’t they see how amped up Strade was? Were they really so deluded to think their incessant begging would do them any favors? Did they not realize their cries were just exciting him more?
Eventually, you squeezed your eyes closed, wanting a break from it all even for a few seconds. Their naivety was driving you insane- a cruel reminder of the person you once were.
Suddenly, an ear splitting scream pieced the air, causing your eyes to fly open. The blood in your veins turned to ice as you saw Strade’s signature knife protruding from the captive’s leg, his hand still wrapped firmly around the handle, wriggling it further into their meat. The blade was buried deep, deep enough to cause true damage, and the blood that gushed from the new wound quickly gathered in a morbid puddle beneath their legs. If left unattended, you were sure they may bleed out, dying in slow agony.
“Oops, maybe I went a bit too deep there,” Strade nonchalantly spoke, pulling the knife carelessly from their leg. They released another sharp cry at the blades exit, squirming in pain and misery as blood sputtered from the gash. Strade continued to speak, unfettered by the gore that splashed against his leg, “But you weren’t listening very well when I was trying to talk earlier, so hopefully that’ll help you focus. I’ll try and be more mindful though, don’t wanna do too much too soon. You’re the star of the show today buddy, can’t have you dipping out on us before we even get started.”
Strade cut a piece of fabric from their victim’s shirt, tying it sloppily around the gaping wound he inflicted. It wasn’t placed as a means to help them so much as a way to help staunch the bleeding to keep them lucid for as long as possible. If there was one thing Strade hated, it was his fun being prematurely cut short.
“Well,” Strade slapped his knees, lifting himself up to his full height, “Usually I like to get to know you a little better before we get to this point, but what with my special guests and all, we don’t have as much time as I would have liked to become acquainted.”
Your eyes trailed Strade as he walked over to a tripod sitting off to the side. Your eyes widened as he reached for it, setting it up with skilled expertise as he had done so many times before. His captive stared blankly at the camera, clearly confused as to what awaited them. You couldn’t decide if their ignorance was a tragedy or a godsend. If they knew this was their final moment of relative peace before their violent end… Would they try an appreciate it, or would that just bring them more dismay?
After the main camera was set up to his liking, he made his way towards you and Ren. You stiffened at he approached, a new spike of anxiety rising within you as he fiddled with something in his pocket. It was your turn for confusion now, staring in perplexion as he pulled out another small camera, setting it up so that it faced your cage. After some finagling to get it just right, the small red light on it turned green.
“There we go,” Strade smiled, tying his signature bandana around his mouth after he completed his setup, his wide eyes gleaming with cruel intent, “Figured the viewers at home deserved a little special something, too. Smile for the camera you two!”
Shame flushed your exposed body as you did all you could to avoid looking into the camera’s nebulous, black lens. You curled yourself up as much as physically possible, revolted by the realization that other sickos were tuning in, getting off to an impending murder and your humiliation. How many people were on the other side of that small orb, desperately waiting for Strade to begin so they could scratch their fucked up itch? How many pairs of eyes were roving over your barely clothed, bloody body right now, pleased for such an enticing appetizer before they dug into the main course? You didn’t know what disgusted you more, Strade himself or the fact that he had enough ‘fans’ out there that were of a similar mindset, who avidly watched and supported him enough that he could live comfortably off live-streaming his slaughters.
After some brief adjustments (apparently your camera wasn’t focused enough, the ‘fans’ were complaining about not having a clear shot of ‘the bitch’s stupid, sniveling face’), Strade eventually made his way back over to the main camera, flicking it on and checking the feed on a nearby laptop to make sure everything was looking as it should. Once he was satisfied, he hopped in front of the camera, the jovial smile on his face noticeable even behind his mask.
“Frohe Weihnachten an alle! Oh wait,” he fished around in a drawer beneath his laptop, eventually yielding a slightly wrinkled Santa’s hat that he plopped gleefully upon his head. “That’s better! How is everyone doing this fine, festive holiday?”
Strade’s eyes scanned over the chat, laughing here and there as he read peoples responses. “I see you all noticed the new edition to the party. Ren, (Name), why don’t you give the nice people watching at home a smile?”
Refusing to acknowledge his deluded request, you kept your eyes to the floor, focusing on anything else but the situation you were in. Your legs ached from your balancing act, the impression of the cold cage bars long since deeply engraved in your skin. You grimaced when you tried to reposition them, the bastard could have at least thrown a towel in here for you.
Strade responded to a few more ‘questions’ before releasing a low whistle. “Hey now,” he chided, his voice holding a warning edge to it “I’m happy to share my cute pets with you, but some things only I get to see, yeah? Get your minds out of the gutter, the requests for the day aren’t for them, they’re for our latest catch.”
Strade scratched the back of his head, looking towards you with an amused twinkle in his eye.  “I think you two may be a bigger hit then our new friend! A little rude to our guest, but I can’t say I blame the masses.” He gave an exaggerated shrug, laughing a bit as he shook his head. “But enough talk. Let’s get this party started, shall we?”
He made his way over to his tool wall, his finger trailing the varying allotment of devices he owned. He stopped briefly, looking back towards the camera with lidded eyes. “So what are you guys feeling? Should we bust out our old friend the drill, or maybe something a bit more colorful, like the new handsaw I purchased the other day?”
The captive began to struggle with renewed intensity against their binds, thrashing about in a final attempt of escape. Their cries for help turned into wailing screeches, screaming and cursing as loud as they could muster in the hope that someone would magically hear them and come to their rescue. You hissed under your breath angrily, wishing they had never been caught, wishing they could spend Christmas with their family, wishing they would just shut up, wishing this would all end.
“Ohhh, we got a lively one~” Strade purred, grabbing a tomahawk off a nearby hook as he eyed chat, “and I agree with the majority here, it’s best to start off slow. Let’s begin with some little stuff and work up to the main event, really taking our time to enjoy this wonderful moment together.” He eyed the tool in his hand, picking at a remainder of a price tag that stuck stubbornly to the handle. “You may not believe me, but I only purchased this little guy to help with some pesky overgrowth in my yard, not to use on my company. Guess it can’t hurt to test out its sharpness and strength beforehand though, can it?”
Your heart palpitated as Strade stalked his way over to his cornered victim, mutely praying that some act of god would occur that would keep them from being decimated. He towered over them, thoughtfully musing on where he wanted to begin, what part of their body he wanted to mutilate first. He absent mindedly tossed the tomahawk from one hand to the next as he considered his plan of attack, sizing up his prey as if they were nothing more than a slab of meat. You struggled briefly against your binding in last ditch effort to shield yourself you from the ‘show’. But like a cruel child jabbing their fingers into you when you weren’t paying them enough attention to them, the spikes gave you a torturous reminder of the position you had been assigned to play in this performance.
Oddly enough, the stab of the protrusions didn’t hurt nearly as much as they did before. Maybe your body was adapting to the cruelties Strade subjugated it to, or maybe you were finally becoming desensitized to everything you had been forced to experience.  Maybe someday it would get to the point where you could be completely unfeeling, like a robot just going through the motions as Strade lived out his wicked life, you forcefully in tow. It was almost a comforting thought, whatever adjustments your body and soul had to make to assure your continued survival, so be it.
However, if the pit forming in your stomach and sweat drenching your brow as you watched Strade inch closure and closure to his victim was any indicator, you were sure something inside of you would always hold on to amity, reminding you just how painfully human you were, heart-breaking empathy and all.
‘I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry,’ you chanted in your head, fresh tears carving slick trails down your cheeks when Strade kick their leg, digging the heel of their boot harshly into their stab wound. Bright red bloomed around the fabric covering the wound, their screams growing gravelly the longer they strained their vocal cords. You did your best to hold back the worst of your sobs, rogue sniffles and hiccups escaping despite your best efforts. If there was an afterlife, you hoped that theirs was full of nothing but warmth, peace, and all the things they love. It was the least they deserved for this.
You were vaguely aware of Ren repositioning himself next to you, his head nestling against your shoulder as he wrapped his arms around you, shielding you slightly in an almost protective manner. Pressed so close, you could feel that he was shivering, his heart beating a mile a minute as it thrummed against your skin. Whether it was from fear, excitement, or both, you were unable to say.
Strade turned around, giving you one last mirthful glance as he readied his tomahawk over the toes of his captive’s right foot.  Though they squirmed intensely, he held a death grip on the limb, keeping them from breaking free. “Make sure to pay close attention now,” desire radiated from his demeanor, voice husky as narrowed eyes briefly roved your restrained form “and don’t feel too neglected over there, I’ll make sure to save some of the fun juuust for you once I finish with our pal over here.”
His eyes darted to the camera, shooting it a look of mock sympathy “For my eyes only of course, you all understand right? Thank you for being here friends, and Frohe Weihnachten für mich!~”
He slammed the blade down. A blood curdling scream erupted from the center of the room as their toes disconnected from the rest of their foot, signaling the beginning of their end.
And you sat like a statue, cold and rigid as your unwilling eyes bore witness to each act of savagery.
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misshoneyimhome · 1 month
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「2️⃣5️⃣0️⃣ FOLLOWERS CELEBRATION」
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"Why can't you just do what you're being told?" I William Nylander (🔥)
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Summary; Sometimes, a push can make all the difference, even within the realm of relationships.
Tropes & warnings; smut 18+, friends-with-benefits, friends to lovers, fighting to sex (is that a thing?); mention of masturbation, unprotected sex (p in v), spanking, more unprotected sex, oral sex (m receiving);
Other notes; This one's for you, styles217, my love.🤍 Although it didn't end up as angsty as I'd envisioned 🙈, I hope you still enjoy it 🤞🏼 Surprisingly though, it ended up containing more smut than I initially planned, thanks to the requests I chose to combine it with [“take it out on me” I “I will never get enough of you” 🔥] - And no, I don’t actually think anyone on the coaching team would say something like this, and I’ve got no idea if anyone on the internet would react in such way; but for the plot of the story, they did 🤍
Knock on wood for not jinxing the winning streak ✊
Word count; 4.1K
・✶ 。゚
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It had been quite a week. The Leafs had been on the road for a week, still keeping up their winning streak, which exceeded everyone's expectations. But even from the comfort of your sofa, you could sense that the games were getting more intense.
It was becoming clearer that the playoffs were getting closer. And suddenly, you noticed new aspects of your beloved William Nylander.
**
William had always been a talented ice hockey player. He might as well have been born with skates on his feet because the ice rink was his natural habitat. At just 16 years old, hockey became his first real profession, following in his father’s footsteps with aspirations of greatness.
And now, with his latest eight-year contract extension playing for the Maple Leafs, he was having the best season of his career.
Watching him play was almost magical - Every goal he scored or assist he made showcased his deep passion for the sport. And to you, he was simply an incredible person. 
Despite the challenges that came with the fast-paced lifestyle, being part of William’s world felt nothing short of amazing. Over the past six months, the two of you had developed some sort of a bond, and there was nothing else you would have traded it for.
William Nylander had stolen your mind and soul from the moment he walked into the quaint coffee shop one early Wednesday morning before a training session. As he was completely exhausted and absent-minded, he inadvertently reached for something that appeared to be his drink, however as it turned out it was your coffee. With a gentle laugh and a charming smile, you kindly asked the handsome hockey player not to take it and encouraged him to enjoy his own instead.
Which then had turned out to be great a conversation starter, leading to a casual dating slash sort of a friends-with-benefits arrangement. Nothing too intense, just two consenting young adults enjoying each other's company, indulging in mind blowing sex, and relishing in easygoing conversations and hangouts.
However, perfection is elusive. Despite William's charm, kindness, and humour, he had a temper. Which you had only glimpsed bits of before, with penalties and a few snappy comments after tough losses.
But what happened during the Coyotes match was on another level.
William didn’t just receive penalties, but he suddenly also reacted aggressively to the pushes he usually shrugged off. He pushed back forcefully, his eyes blazing with anger.
And to your surprise, you found it incredibly arousing. Your cunt even tingled as William pushed the Coyote player, and a scuffle broke out among other players.
Never before had a hockey match stirred such arousal in you. And to top it off, the Leafs emerged victorious.
That night, thoughts of William's roughness lingered, leading you to touch yourself, and reaching an orgasm in a way you hadn't experienced before. The sheets beneath you were soaked as you moaned William's name into the emptiness with a whimper.
**
The game against Arizona was then followed by another impressive win, this time against the Knights, and then furthermore; a victory over the Avalanches after three thrilling periods, bringing the road trip to a satisfying conclusion.
Yet, as entertaining as it was to follow William and the team, it paled in comparison to being back in Toronto with him, where you could finally be intimate again.
And already Sunday afternoon you found yourself back at his place after he had a lie-in and taken care of the dogs. Entangled on his ample couch, his lips passionately locked with yours as your tongues explored each other with every shared breath.
With William on top of you, your fingers entwined in his blonde locks as he moved his warm mouth to the sensitive skin of your neck, sucking and nipping, eliciting sweet noises from you.
He was insatiable. After a week of being apart, William craved the feeling of you wrapped around him, longing to reach his own release in the midst of passion.
Clothes littered the floor of the living room, and despite the TV show still playing in the background, your moans filled the space of his condo. His two doodles lounged in a basket nearby as William guided his hard, throbbing member to your tight entrance.
Feeling William's hands on you again was nothing short of amazing. His mouth expertly melded with yours as his cock stretched you, sending waves of pleasure through your body with every thrust.
It was intense and messy. Bodies slick with sweat as you passionately connected on the sofa. His movements were determined, rough, and primal as he straightened his position, one leg on the floor, the other knee on the cushion, holding one of your legs against his chest while the other wrapped around his waist, thrusting mercilessly into you.
Your hands eagerly searched for something to grip onto, settling on the pillow behind your head as your mind blurred and your body melted for him.
You moaned loudly, the sounds mixing with the TV as you reached the peak of orgasm. But William didn't let you rest for a moment. Instead, he increased his intensity, feeling himself nearing the edge as your muscles tightened around him. And with heavy breaths, he thrust vigorously until he reached his climax, releasing his cum into you.
The intensity of the moment was palpable as you both took a few minutes to come down from the high and regain control of your breathing. It was a prime example of how raw and amazing your sex could be – effortless yet dirty, filled with desire.
And what came after was even better: William's tenderness as he caressed your curves in the post-sex shower was almost romantic. The way he caressed every inch of your skin was incredibly arousing, washing away the remnants of your sofa session. And then, he kneeled before you, placing hungry kisses on your core.
It was an added treat he provided, indulging in a late-night snack before you settled in for the night, knowing that Monday morning and the workday would soon be upon you.
**
It was another day of facing adult responsibilities at work, with the excitement of hockey on hold until reuniting with William in the afternoon.
However, while your day passed uneventfully, William found himself stirred by something deeper. His recent behaviour during matches hadn't gone unnoticed, and while fights were often accepted in the sport, comments about William being 'out of character' emerged.
Social media buzzed with opinions about him; criticising his usual calm demeanour, suggesting it wasn't present to support the team during heated moments, and deeming his actions as outrageous.
Which ignited William's temper. Despite his stellar performance in recent games – scoring goals and providing assists – he felt unjustly criticised. And more over it seemed that every attempt to express confidence in his own game was met with accusations of selfishness and 'overconfidence'.
It simply seemed William couldn't strike a balance. If he didn't score goals, he was deemed a bad player. If he didn't assist but scored himself, he wasn't seen as a team player. And if he didn't contribute at all, he was deemed unworthy of the team. He was often labeled as the attractive star player, good at scoring goals, but not as exceptional as Auston Matthews or as dominant as other players like Rielly, Reaves, and Tavares.
'Nylander’s a talented player, but he only cares about scoring for himself.'
‘Great to see WN88 take on some responsibilities when wearing the A – but he’s nothing like MR44’
The power of public opinion could be harsh.
Though most of the time, William didn’t even pay much attention to the criticism, knowing he was a great player, and his confidence remained unshaken. But often when he tried to brush off the comments and act nonchalant, it only fuelled speculation about his carelessness.
And, for some unexpected reason, he found himself unable to contain his temper on that particular Monday. Tired of the negative remarks, he wanted to prove that he could be just as strong and skilled as anyone else.
So, during Monday’s ice training, he attempted to assert his dominance. But things didn't go entirely as planned. Although the comments from the assistant coaches might not have been intended to be negative, they still managed to pierce through his thick skin.
"Hey Willy, we all know you did great as an alternate captain in Mo’s absence. However, maybe focus more on your scoring, passing to Auston, and breakaways – you know, the things you’re great at."
William simply nodded in response to the coaching staff's encouragement. But as they all left the locker room, he still couldn't shake off the words entirely.
"Hey," you greeted him with a warm smile in the hallway, joining the other partners of the team. "Want to go out for dinner?"
"Sure," he responded tersely, his tone devoid of your enthusiasm. "Just go wait by the car, I’ll be right there."
His voice was low and cold, but as his confidant, you resolved to show your support and be there for him.
"That's alright, I'll just wait here until you're ready," you replied, offering a reassuring smile.
"Just go and wait by the car," he suddenly snapped, his words sharper than before.
“What did you just say?” 
“Go wait by the fucking car.”
"Oh no... You don’t get to talk to me like that, Willy..." you retorted, your voice firm and steady. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, I just... I'll meet you outside."
"No, I'm not leaving until you talk nicely to me!"
"Why can't you just do what you're being told?" William shouted, his voice echoing through the hallway. 
You were taken aback. William had never shouted at you, especially not in public like this. While your relationship wasn’t without its disagreements, it had never escalated to this level.
But you held his gaze firmly as the others dispersed, the tension between you palpable. 
There was a silence that hung heavy in the air. A moment where every thing could fall apart if you let it. But instead you decided to take the battle elsewhere.
"Fine," you finally spat, before turning and walking towards the exit.
And needless to say, the ride back to William’s place was dead silent, broken only when William left the car to pick up your takeaway dinner, opting not to go out. And when he returned, he slammed the door shut, and the journey to his place remained eerily quiet.
You felt his frustration emanating from him as you entered the condo, and as you placed the bags of food on the kitchen counter, you decided you couldn't ignore it any longer.
"Willy... do you have any idea how humiliating that was?" you said with a steady voice, trying to catch his gaze, but he remained hunched over the counter, looking down.
"So what?" he replied curtly.
You let out a small sigh. "So what?... Willy, I'm not a toy you can play with however you like... I'm a person with feelings."
"Don't you think I have feelings too?" he suddenly erupted, standing up straight and taking a step towards you. "Don't you think I feel frustrated and annoyed? That I'm not this perfectly calm and chill guy everyone always wants me to be?"
"So, you're upset because you're a talented hockey player, but not perfect in every way?" you asked a hint of rhetoric in your tone, raising a brow. "Willy, nobody's perfect, and nobody can live up to everyone's expectations."
"Don't you think I know that! But it still doesn’t make the frustrations go away, y/n... not that you would know how it feels to just want to... let go!"
And you suddenly found yourself releasing a breath you hadn't realised you'd been holding. William's words were sharp and filled with tension, fuelled by his passion for the sport. And strangely, you felt the same arousal you had felt the night you witnessed his anger for the first time.
"Take it out on me," you spoke softly, still maintaining a firm tone as you extended the invitation.
"What?" William inquired, taken aback by your bold offer.
"Take your frustrations out on me, Willy... let go, be angry... do what you need to do..."
For a moment, he couldn't comprehend what you were suggesting. His mind raced with thoughts, but as his eyes met yours, a sudden surge of desire and lust overwhelmed him. The offer was too tempting to resist. And without hesitation, he closed the gap between you, fuelled by a primal urge.
His lips almost crashed onto yours, his hands gripping your head tightly as he held you close. Your breath was stolen as he forcefully slid his tongue into your mouth, exploring your warmth with intensity, pressing his body against yours.
Your hands instinctively found his neck, but they couldn't stay still as William, using his size to his advantage, guided you out of the kitchen and into the bedroom. Clothes were shed along the way, leaving a trail of passion in their wake.
The intensity was so overwhelming that you barely registered how quickly you ended up standing by the bed, clad only in your lacy thong, as William's mouth continued to ravage yours until he breathlessly stepped back.
"On your hands and knees," his voice commanded roughly, his breath heavy and his eyes filled with lust.
And feeling your cunt already pulsating merely from the sound of his voice, you removed your last piece of fabric, and obeyed without hesitation.
William couldn't help but smirk as he admired the sight of your exposed cheeks before him. And as he lowered his boxers, freeing his hard cock, he slowly joined you on the mattress, kneeling behind you as he let his hands explore your soft skin.
"So you want me to let go, baby," he spoke darkly from behind, his mind clouded with thoughts of what he wanted to do to you. “I’ll fucking let go.”
And by encouragement form you, be withdrew his large hand from your ass, intensely stared at your ass before delivering a hard slap against your skin.
"Oh fuck..." you cried out, feeling the sting of his spank.
"You liked that, huh?" William inquired darkly, and all you could do was nod, earning another hard spank.
His force was harsh. Harder than you’d ever been playfully spanked before, and you could tell he was releasing some negative energy with two more intense smacks. His breath heavy and deep but his fifth and last spank, which had beautifully decorated your skin with a red hue.
And as you let out a soft cry mixed with a pleasure-filled moan, William felt satisfied with his actions. Shifting slightly in his position, he teased the tip of his cock against your entrance.
"Do you think you deserve this?" he asked, his voice filled with desire. “You think you deserve to be fucked?”
You could feel nothing but your muscles pulsating between your legs, yearning to be filled by his length.
"Yes," you whimpered, your legs trembling with anticipation.
"Good girl..." 
And with a forceful thrust, William slammed his cock into you, burying himself deep inside your cunt and hitting your very depths.
His hands gripped your waist firmly as he established a steady rhythm of forceful thrusts, channeling all his frustration and annoyance into each powerful movement. With every slam, he felt himself releasing the pent-up tension, letting go of the negativity that had been weighing on him.
It was almost too overwhelming for you. His vigorous thrusts caused your body to tremble, pushing you closer to orgasm much quicker than anticipated as he pounded and overstimulated your walls.
Usually it’d take more than just forceful penetrating sex like this to give you that pleasurable high, however with William’s merciless performance, you suddenly found yourself nearing a peak. 
And as if you had no control over yourself, your moans grew louder with each collision of skin against skin, and soon you found yourself clutching onto the sheets beneath you.
"Willy," you breathed, your voice filled with need. "I'm gonna come..."
Your words were music to his ears, mingling with moans and cries as he revelled in the pleasure he was giving you. And with no intention of slowing down, he continued to fuck you hard and fast.
"Oh fuck... Willy..." you cried out, your cunt dripping with juices as you threw your head back and allowed yourself to reach the peak of ecstasy, waves of climax rushing over your body.
William could feel how your walls clenched tightly around him as you embraced your orgasm, relishing in the sight of you closing your eyes in ecstasy and feeling your body shake and surrender to him.
And though as much as he wanted to continue fucking you hard and bring you to multiple orgasms, he also felt the urgency for his own release.
So, he paused his movements, allowing you to come down from the euphoria and catch your breath, before gently withdrawing his length from your dripping core. It was a sight to behold, seeing how perfectly your heat fit him, reflecting the pleasure he had given you.
But for now, he desired something else from you.
"I want you on your knees, baby, on the floor," his husky voice commanded, and with a deep breath, you summoned the strength to move your body.
Despite your legs feeling like jelly beneath you, you managed to manoeuvre from the bed to the middle of the room, where you flashed William a confident smirk as you knelt before him. You knew exactly what he wanted, and you were more than willing to give it to him.
Then patiently waiting for him to draw closer, you glanced up at him with desire in your eyes, parting your lips slightly as he approached. You yearned to taste him, to feel his hardness against your tongue, and even to savor your own essence.
And William happily gave it to you.
Holding his cock before your mouth, he gazed intensely down at you, silently granting you permission to take him.
Without hesitation, you accepted. Wrapping your lips around the tip, you began by circling it with your tongue. Then taking a deep breath through your nose, you focused on relaxing the back of your throat, guiding him in slowly and effortlessly. You felt him reach the back of your mouth, but you allowed him to push in further.
Gently withdrawing your head slightly, you coated his shaft with your saliva before taking him in entirely once again. And while taking your time, you savoured the sensation before starting to move your head in rhythmic motions, bobbing up and down on his length. Your lips wrapped around him as you moved, using your dominant hand where your mouth couldn't reach.
William's fingers found the back of your hair, gently gripping it as he began to let his hips move in sync with your motions. And as the pleasurable sensations intensified, so did his actions.
You allowed him to take control, something you wouldn't normally do as you needed to manage your gag reflex and breathing. But tonight was William's night to let loose, which meant allowing him to guide his cock in and out of your mouth.
And while feeling his grip tighten in your hair, you managed to glance up at him through your lashes and saw how he tilted his head back, surrendering to the moment.
"Fuck, your mouth feels so good," he mumbled between moans.
Knowing exactly how to push him over the edge, you released your hand from around the base of his cock and placed both palms on his muscular thighs. Taking another deep breath, you prepared yourself as best you could before letting him push his shaft all the way into your throat, causing your nose to brush against his pubic hair. Holding still for a few seconds, you allowed yourself to gag around his cock before pulling off completely and gasping for air.
"Oh shit! Fuck, babe," William panted above you as you stroked his length. "That's fucking hot."
And you knew it was. William had often expressed his love for your blowjobs, and sometimes hinted at his desire for more dominant behaviour. While he had never actually choked you with his cock, he had shown some interest, which was how you knew he would enjoy how you forced him all the way down.
Then taking another breath, you placed both hands on his thighs once more and took him back into your mouth. And this time, William wanted nothing more than to come for you. Knowing how good you could be for him, he held onto you firmly, meeting your eyes as he thrust against your mouth.
It was forceful and dominant, as he relished every gagging noise you made. And as he fucked your mouth faster, he felt himself on the brink of climax.
"Oh yes, baby, that’s it! Oh, I'll never get enough of you," he moaned, his eyes shutting tightly. "Your mouth is so fucking..." But his words were cut off by a deep grunt as his climax took over, and he unleashed his load into your warmth.
You felt his muscles tense under your touch, your nails digging into them as he held his cock in your mouth, ensuring you received every single drop he had to offer.
Both of you remained still for a brief moment as William came down from his high, and holding back your instincts, you gazed up at him as you waited for his approval.
Slowly, he pulled himself out of your mouth, allowing you to taste every inch of his shaft. And locking eyes with you once more, he issued his final command.
"Swallow."
With a gulp, you let his raw cum slide down your throat, before releasing a light sensual gasp. It was nothing but an intense moment of sexual silence as you stared up at the man before you.
"Shit, baby, you're way too good at this," his dark words praised, and slowly he helped you to your feet.
"Did I at least help you with the frustrations?" you chuckled lightly.
"Oh, yes, you did," William replied, flashing you a great smile before pulling you into a cuddle. "How about a shower?"
"How about we heat up dinner?" you suggested with a laugh.
"Good idea - but shower first."
It felt as if all the tension had dissipated, as if there were no lingering issues anymore. Yet, a part of you remained uncertain about the true nature of your relationship with William.
As you enjoyed a later dinner after the post-sex shower, smiles gracing both of your faces, you couldn't help but ponder what was going on inside William's mind.
However, as you cuddled up, feeling satisfied in every aspect, he beat you to the conversation.
"Hey... thanks for... you know, today," he started softly, his thumb caressing your shoulder as his arms enveloped you, turning his head to face you.
"Of course, it's what I'm here for," you replied with a content smile.
"Yeah, I know, it's just..." he continued softly, struggling to articulate his thoughts. "You don't have to... let me do that... you could’ve just walked away after what happened at the rink."
"I know, but I didn’t want to walk away... Willy, I know I'm not exactly your girlfriend or anything, but whatever this is, to me, it's something..."
"Exactly... and I guess I just... I don't know how to say it, but I just feel like there might be more... you're so amazing, and I just really want you around, all the time... and I understand if that's not what you want, because it's not always easy with me, but... if you want to, I'd like to have you..."
His last words almost came out in slow motion, uncertainty evident in how he expressed his feelings.
"Willy, are you asking me to be your girlfriend?"
"Yeah... I think I am."
You were slightly taken aback by his question. Despite being intimate and spending a lot of time together for months, you didn't think William was considering this direction. On the contrary actually, you had been nervous he wanted to end it because of the increasing intensity of the season.
"Yes, Willy... of course I'd want to be your girlfriend," you finally managed to speak, the words carrying a mix of joy and relief. "Babe, I was honestly afraid you'd had enough of me...."
It was a moment you had both anticipated and feared, but now that it was here, it felt nothing but right. Leaning in, you sealed your answer with a tender kiss, a silent affirmation of your commitment to each other.
William's eyes sparkled with happiness as he returned the kiss, his arms pulling you closer. It was a moment of clarity amidst the chaos of life, a moment where everything just felt right.
"Oh, I already told you; I'll never get enough of you," he whispered against your lips, his voice filled with warmth and sincerity. 
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Would you write a smut fic with ghost x dom reader x soap??(reader can be fem or gn and make both boys submissive maybe a moment where they fuck each other and the reader watches them and controls them).IDK WRITE IT HOWEVER YOU IMAGINE IT. I just dont have the skill to write so i am requesting it here.I hope its not weird.
I got you (。•̀ᴗ-)✧
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Ghost x Dom!Reader x Soap
Ghost and Soap find themselves crushing on the same woman on their team, a friendly bout between two comrades to see who you'll choose, only your answer's not one they'd expected to hear.
NSFW 18+, Shameless Smut, Porn With Plot, very little plot, MMF, P in V sex, Tons of Teasing, Steamy Makeouts, Groping, Grinding, Double-Penetration, Anal, Ceampie, Explicit Description, Graphic Language, Dom!Reader, Sub!Soap, Sub!Ghost, Sexual Tension, Some Ghostsoap moments as well, Playful Banter, Bickering, Flirting, Build-Up, Jealousy, Soap and Ghost are fighting over the same girl, but it's friendly competition, ends in a three way too so, will do more proofreading I promise!
WC: 7k ~
Author's Note: This took me way longer to type than it probably should have. I hope it makes for a good read. It's total nonsense, and probably not very realistic (though I do try). It's not exactly like the anon, I'm sorry! But hopefully, it's still good. Please, please, please enjoy, and thank you so much for reading my things!
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The front door shut close, leaving the living room just a bit more silent now that its previous company had just departed. You look back towards your remaining two house guests, the smile already unable to stop from forming on your face. You'd been hoping for some alone time with both Ghost and Soap, and it seems fate would smile on you tonight, for now, you had both of them here.
You invited the whole team back over to your place for the weekend, after having just come back from an op with both Price and Gaz, which lasted damn near over a month. The whole thing had been rather uneventful, to say the least; some reconnaissance and leads which went mostly nowhere (well, nowhere for your team; Laswell definitely had a heyday from the sound of things).
With how mind-numbingly dull the whole assignment turned out to be, everyone couldn't be happier to finally sit back and relax with some drinks and good company once back home. All night you spent recapping the events of the mission, including all the monotony which had conspired.
At one point, the most entertainment you could find out there had been both you and Gaz slowly "misplacing" Price's things -- unimportant items that wouldn't do any harm if left unnoticed. You had bets on how long it'd take for him to notice things slowly going missing everyday.
Surprisingly, you nearly got away with it for a whole week, until one morning when he finally questioned the funny look you two had on your faces when he'd been scratching his head, completely perplexed by the absence of his things. Price was in a better mood retelling the story than he had been in the moment.
Eventually, everyone started to disperse as the night went on -- Price got tired and left first, maybe an hour after that Gaz called it a night as well. Once they'd left, you found yourself in your living room with the only two mates you'd been thinking about all day, Ghost and Soap.
Only unbeknownst to both you and each other, both men had deliberately been trying to stick around, having shared the sentiment in wanting some long-awaited alone time with you... except the night keeps getting later, and they both keep giving each other increasingly odd looks, impatiently waiting for the other to leave so they could finally make a move on you.
Both Ghost and Soap have wanted you for a long time now, longer than either men cared to admit. Funnily enough, it was Ghost who'd caught feelings first.
It came to him as randomly as a Tuesday morning. You were just doing what you normally do. However, it had been your mundane actions that somehow drew him in initially. How you go about life with a smile and good attitude, the way you look at him when you found something funny, and the slight lilt to your voice when you talk and get excited. He would feel a lucky man indeed to be yours.
However, Soap had been the one to be more upfront about his interest in you, after developing feelings of his own. The Sergeant's likings to you came suddenly and without warning, but once they'd developed, it couldn't be more obvious that he was down BAD.
More often than not was he finding little excuses to touch you, whether it be a passing hand on the small of your back when squeezing by, or a congratulatory hug after a successful mission. Soap's suave charisma made it easy to do. And with the touching, it was always followed by some sly little line that would have you blushing and pulling at the fabric of your sleeve all shy-like.
He's slowly ramped the flirting up the more time passes, and Ghost knows if he doesn't at least say something now, then it won't be long before Soap takes the chance himself. Tonight had felt a perfect enough opportunity to finally make some waves, though, Soap was fast proving to be a formidable opponent.
"Jeez!" You stretch your hands over your head and yawn dramatically, both men's eyes luring a bit longer than they should have on you as you did so. "I didn't realize how late it was getting."
"Aye, same," Soap lets out a little yawn as well, making himself more comfy on your couch. "You don't mind though, no?"
"Not at all," you say. If only they knew how many nights you've spent letting one of the two men be your idle bedtime fancies into slumber. Wondering what it was they could be doing at that moment in time, and if they'd been thinking of you too. "I missed you guys."
"Aw, we missed you too, lass," Soap smiles at you, before his gaze drops over to Ghost's, who'd begun to glare.
He often forgoes the mask in more domestic environments like this with the team, the others having already seen him before. Though it didn't stop the man from forgetting not to wear his emotions on his face like he still had one on. You thought his eyes were expressive, but little had you all known it was only the tip of the iceberg.
Keeping calm and remaining stoic in combat is one thing, however, anger and disapproval came easy to him, in which case he rivaled for having the worst poker face you'd ever seen.
The Sergeant had taken this fouled expression for disagreement in his statement, even as the look had been for an entirely different reason altogether. Soap merely goes on, "Or, I missed you at least. Ghost might feel differently."
Bastard. Putting him on the spot like this; Ghost almost chuckles, the cheeky fuck. He knew what Soap was trying to do: subtly make himself look better in your eyes so that you choose him over the other.
Had he known better, Ghost would think Soap might actually be aware of the lieutenant's crush on you, by the way he smirked in his direction after saying it. He admits he hadn't expected Soap to partake in such petty games either; then again, this was a first, the two of them liking the same woman like this.
If this is how he plays, then Ghost thought only one thing -- Game on.
"Oh I'm sure you missed me too," you stand up from the couch now, twirling over to face him. "Right, Si'?"
"And then some, love," Ghost says.
Your smile brightens, and the man is ashamed to say that it gives him the warm fuzzies in these late hours. The way the living room lighting curved over your neck had also been a sight worth eliciting something deep within him.
Ghost takes a quick glance over at Soap, catching his less-than-excited reaction to the lieutenant's successful line. He has to remember not to grow too expressive at that moment. Not with you here at least.
You excuse yourself to the restroom shortly after, having paid no mind to the growing tension between your comrades. You'd all but taken the soothing atmosphere with you, leaving instead an awkward aura Ghost and Soap willfully drowned themselves in.
It's Ghost who speaks first, his dark eyes having watched your backside make its way down the hall and round the corner. The more drink he had in him, the less subtle his staring grew. Soap has noticed as much tonight especially.
"It's gettin' rather late." Ghost straightens up in his seat before finishing off his Bourbon and placing it back down on the coffee table. "Damn near one in the a.m. Yet you look proper cozy, mate."
"Aye, I am," Soap says rather proudly, further making his point by getting comfortable on the couch and taking another swig of his tequila. "Been too long since I been 'ere. Was startin' to miss layin' on the ol' thing," he rubs the cushion as though he were petting an old dog.
Ghost leans back in his seat now. "You stay over this late often, then?"
Soap pauses, having to double take that question, until his blue eyes fell on Ghost's brown ones, and he saw clearly what he was asking him.
He asks the man right back, "Do you, mate?"
A cocky little grin forms on the Scotsman's face. Had Ghost not been so wrapped up in you, it might have brought him to a pause there. Soap always did have a nice smile.
Soap didn't have to be a genius to know Ghost liked you though; he goes all but slack-jaw anytime you walk by him. Not to mention it wasn't a common thing for Ghost to be the one sticking around late during a get-together. He's normally the first to call it a night, in fact.
Only tonight, that hadn't been the case for him at all. No, Ghost was as planted in his chair as Soap was; they both might as well have sprouted roots. And they both had enough drink to muster up the right amount of bravado needed to keep this sudden, little interrogation going.
"I asked you first, Johnny," Ghost says, his deep voice laced with something more playfully cunning.
"And I answered you," Soap teases back.
"With a question."
"It's still an answer, no?"
Now Soap was just being deliberately obtuse. Ever since he knew he could do it, Soap's enjoyed pushing the lieutenant's buttons and getting a rile out of him. It's only increased tenfold over the last year, not that Ghost has tried to stop him.
Ghost leans forward now, resting his arms on his knees and furrowing his brow. "A'right, out with it, then," he says. "What's your game 'ere?"
Soap's brow furrows rather facetiously. '"I'm sorry, sir?"
"Don’t play dumb Johnny." The playful tone Ghost once used before has now since cooled, growing darker. "You know wha' I'm askin'."
Soap merely smirks, resting his arm back against the couch. "The same game you're playing, yeah?"
"And what game is that, Johnny?"
Soap can't help but laugh now, growing more and more cocky with each loaded exchange. On a normal day, Ghost might manage to intimidate the Sergeant every so often with his sheer presence, let alone his words. However, when it comes to women, Soap couldn't feel more in his element, especially up against his superior.
"One I'll beat you in."
Now it's Ghost's turn to have a laugh. A subtle thing, trapped beneath the burliness of his chest, though its deep rumble is audible enough, having warmed the Scotsman's cheeks at the sound.
"I doubt that," Ghost says.
"You underestimate my charm L.T."
Soap puckers his lips and kisses the air between the two men mockingly. As much as Ghost tried to hide it, the sight had made the air catch in his throat for a second. It's that usual, competitive nature about the Sergeant that really gets Ghost's blood pumping during these mutual bouts of bickering.
"My last statement still stands," Ghost chuckles. "So what? You thought I'd leave and you two would just go at it then?"
"I wouldn't say it like that," Soap says. "...But I was hoping to have some alone time with her, yes."
"And you figured on waitin' for the rest of us to vacate before making a move..." Ghost shrugs with affirmation. "...Clever man."
"Yeah, well, what about you?" Soap asks. "Clearly we're both still here for the same reason. What's your "game", L.T.?"
"It's not your concern."
Soap groans, sinking back in his seat, though he hadn't been surprised by his response. "Suppose it isn't, then," he says. "It's hers."
"That's right," Ghost agrees. "We can't both have her."
"Can't we?"
Ghost brings his eyes forward to Soap's, having thought his comment been a mere joke. However, once their gazes matched, Ghost could see that his Sergeant was dead serious.
Personally, Soap's never been opposed to the idea of a threesome. He'd even be lying if he said he hadn't fantasized about it from time to time, as boyish as it sounds. Adding Ghost into that equation hadn't tripped him up much in the slightest either; Lord knows the lieutenant would be next on Soap's list if you weren't at the top of it already.
Still, Ghost had a hard time even picturing a scenario where something like that could happen, let alone with all three of you. No doubt the man had been interested in you, and for a while, he'd even felt something for Soap as well, feelings that haven't necessarily gone away.
Something with all three of you would no doubt be perfect, however, it just seemed...
"Let's be real here, Johnny." Ghost leaves it at that.
"Suit yourself," Soap merely shrugs, before a light bulb moment suddenly lets off in his eyes. "How about we bring this to the source then? Hey Y/N!"
"Soap-"
"Oi, calm down, mate," he smiles at him. "No point in beatin' 'round the bush, aye?"
You reemerge from around the corner, having heard their voices vaguely through your door this entire time, but not being able to put full words together. Not without having your ear pressed to the wall. From the "uh-oh" look you had on your face, though, something told the two men you were already preparing for them to say something crazy.
"What's up?"
Soap gives Ghost a final look, waiting to see if the man will protest. However, when he sees that he doesn't speak, Soap grins, turning back to you.
"If you had to pick between Ghost and I, who're you choosin'?"
"Pick for what?" you ask, certainly needing clarification. "For battle?"
Soap bursts out laughing, just now feeling how awkward it was going to be explaining this to you. "No," he says. "Like if you had to pick one of us to... I don't know, go out on a date with, who would you pick?"
You keep smiling at Soap like he's joking, waiting to hear him laugh, but once you see he hasn't budged, you feel your heart begin to race.
Your eyes grow wide, now suddenly embarrassed to have the spotlight on you. "You're seriously asking?"
Soap nods. "I am."
You look over at Ghost now. Surely this was just another one of Soap's antics. "You too?"
Ghost shrugs. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious."
You were hoping he wouldn't say that. But, if they were asking, then may God be your witness as you answer them.
Placing a hand to your chin, you pout to yourself and look back and forth between your teammates, sizing both men up for every physical feature they had to offer.
Your mind immediately goes to the gutter, not being able to help it. You've found them both distractingly good-looking ever since you joined the team, and you've more than thought about this before. Just never in comparison. Or out loud.
Soap looks like he'd be fun to play with -- he's eager, energetic, and even better, open-minded. Not to mention he was cocky too; you always liked a man who could talk his shit and back it up. With those big arms of his, he could just box you in against the bed and pin you down good and firm, as he drills into you, cooing that sweet little accent of his in your ear like he would. It made your body tingle just thinking about it.
And then there was Ghost; if there was any voice you wouldn't mind having growled in your ear while being fucked senseless, it was his. Unlike Soap, you just knew you wouldn't get it rough like you would from Ghost. You've lost count of how many times you've caught yourself gawking at him during sparring sessions or while out in the field, watching that bulking mass of muscle of his he called a body, manhandle any and everything in his way. Having him do the same to you in a more intimate sense never failed to make the lower parts of yourself start to throb at the thought.
After giving both men a good, long look, you sigh, letting your arms fall back to your sides.
"I can't choose."
"Ah, don't be shy now, lass," Soap says. "If you're worried about hurtin' our feelings-"
"No it's not that," you cut in. "It's just not an easy choice, you know?"
Ghost raises an eyebrow now. "Oh?"
"Oh, don't act all surprised, Simon."
"You like us both then?" Soap asks cautiously.
"I'd say so." You begin to smirk. "Why? What's going on here?"
The two give each other a look, before Ghost goes to explain things to you.
"We're just trying to figure out which one of us has a shot."
"Figures you should be the deciding vote, seeing as you're the subject of interest, lass."
You imagine you look pretty stupid standing at the center of your living room all wide-eyed like you do, but frankly, this just feels too good to be true. It hadn't been one of them that was supposedly into you, but both of them. If you could do a backflip, you'd do twelve right now, no questions asked.
But before you get head over heels about this, "So you're saying you both want me then?"
"In more ways than one, darlin'," Soap teases.
You glance over at Ghost this time, having taken note of his sudden silence. "You too, Simon?"
He hadn't necessarily been prepared to confess his feelings to you, not like this, and much less in front of an opposing audience. Still, Ghost wouldn't have his own Sergeant show him up so easily. Plus, the way your eyes lured at him this whole time had a chill running down his spine, making it hard to concentrate. So he nods, "That's right."
A devilish smile slowly creeps over your lips.
"Well, can't I just have you both?"
"Aye, that's what I'm sayin'!"
"Problem solved then, right?" You laugh.
"If only," Soap says. "Ghost didn't seem up for it when I brought it up earlier-"
"You puttin' words in my mouth now, Johnny." Ghost cuts in.
"Oh, don't switch up now L.T.-"
"Boys," you cut in before they've started going back in forth again, a playful smile still painting your lips. You were eating this up, if you were being honest. "Relax," you say. "We can... get to the bottom of this, yeah?"
Both your eyes shift over to Ghost, who now sits awkwardly to himself on the couch, hands resting motionless on his large lap.
"Well Simon?" You ask him. "Are you down?"
"I'm not one for sharing, love," Ghost coos at you.
You slowly make your way over to the lieutenant, your eyes looming over him like a panther that's just found its next meal. Ghost feels himself hold his breath, watching as you've paused just in front of him, your back now facing Soap, though you can feel his eyes on your backside, taking in the nice view of you, and feeling himself grow harder in his pants.
This close, having smelt your scent on the way over, and felt the remnants of your breath in the air between you two, Ghost could feel his mind beginning to slip out from itself, heading into dangerous territories.
He could see in your eyes you knew exactly what you were doing too. Exactly what you wanted to do. The ball was in your park, and that made you in charge from this point on. The only thing they needed to do now was listen. And Ghost was sitting at the edge of his seat, waiting to hear you.
"Come on, Si'," you say so playfully. "Don't be greedy."
Ghost merely scoffs, an awkward smile forming. "How can I not?"
As though to then challenge the man, you step even closer, placing yourself right at the brink between his legs, having now rested your dainty hands over his muscular thighs like a ledge to lean on. The man can't even stop himself from letting his hands rest on your hips, your body naturally shifting just a little closer as he's done it. Every little thing you did had him ready to tear you out of your clothes and devour you whole.
No, the man knows he's too greedy for his own good. If he had even the smallest taste of you, he wouldn't want your attention on no one other than him. Howbeit, looking back over towards the Sergeant only made him want to throw that caution out the window.
Soap doesn't see the man staring daggers into him at first; his blue eyes have been glued to your ass since you turned your back to him. For the short second he does glance up at the lieutenant, he grins daringly. Taunting him to go home and tuck tail so he could have you all to himself instead. Make this easier for him tonight.
That's just what Soap wants, Ghost thought. Here the opportunity was now to have you, and he's fumbling it away all because he feels he can't share with Soap. Saying it again in his head like that gets him thinking though. If that's the only hurdle between him and you fucking, then it seemed easy enough to step over.
He won't back down that easily, even if he has to "share" you. If you want him like he wants you, then you'll have him, however way you like, just as he'll have you.
Ghost brings his hands down and lets his fingers graze your ass just enough for the Sergeant to see since he couldn't keep his eyes off you. Sickly enough, he hopes the sight is driving the Scot mad. God knows Ghost feels mad enough himself.
The minute you've felt his touch on you, you hum pleasantly, stepping even closer, so that he could take better hold of your bottom and have your small body caged between his large arms and legs like walls, his face only inches or so from yours.
Ghost could feel himself getting more comfortable with the idea of sharing. At least when he had you to himself like this. Especially with how your hands have begun to leisurely rest over his shoulders now, keeping the man just as close.
"I knew you'd come around," you praise, your words now having the man feeling giddy, ready to take them to further levels.
"Just takes the right convincing," he hums.
"I'm feelin' awfully lonely back 'ere," Soap chimes in, doing the best he could not to sink so low as to start touching himself before being given the OK by you first, wanting to hear the words leave your pretty, little mouth. Even as his cock was already throbbing in his pants for some relief.
You merely chuckle, cocking your head back to look at the Sergeant. "I haven't forgotten about you, don't worry," you coo. "You just be a good little lad and wait a moment, yeah?"
Though he wanted to protest, step over, and take you all for himself, Soap did as you told him to and stayed put, continuing to let his eyes have their way with the parts of your body he's all but only been able to steal quick glances at before. He could only hope his patience would be rewarded; and so long as you keep talking to him like you are now, he'll wait until the sun rises if he has to.
You turn your attention back to Ghost, not having forgotten about his hands which oh so nonchalantly groped the cheeks of your ass, kneading and massaging his fingers into the backs of your thighs. He wanted nothing more than to keep letting his hands roam until they've found the center of you, his mind already playing the short gasps and moans you'd make with his fingers knuckle deep in you.
He knew you'd only make him regret it if he so much as did anything without your say-so first.
You reveled at seeing both men so eager and receptive to listen, given how fast this all went down. Frankly, it's got your head spinning so fast that you feel like you've just been drugged. However, rather than let that adrenaline crumble you down, you instead use it as chaotic fuel to your lustful actions.
You climb onto Ghost's lap like a backward chair, straddling him down with your thighs and rocking yourself against him. As he's felt you grind generously so, a tattered breath escapes his lips. Broken and faint. His expression does all it can do to remain as still as possible, only to fail, as his gaze lowers, bouncing between your eyes and lips.
Having his hands grow a mind of their own, Ghost lets them slide to your back, encouraging you to keep moving against him, which you do gladly, the lust bubbling down your lower half like a chemical reaction.
"Fuck, love," Ghost huffs out. "You're really takin' me for a ride right now, aren't you?"
"Hope you're buckled in," you tease, following it with another smooth sway of your hips, giving the man a deep grind hard enough to leave him breathing heavy.
Just when he's about ready to kiss you, you look back over at Soap, smiling. Your index finger lifts innocently, beckoning the man. "Come along now, big boy," you say.
You don't have to tell him twice.
In a matter of seconds, the man is behind you, towering over you and keeping you now sandwiched between both him and Ghost.
When you see they're both waiting on your next word, you chuckle to yourself, the power now starting to go to your head. To think, you had two of the deadliest men on your team damn near drooling, ready to fuck you. How could you not let it get to your head?
"Well," you give both men a final lurid, look, and say, "I'm waiting."
Soap and Ghost exchange wary looks, suddenly unsure of what to do with themselves now that they had you like this. Evidently, despite you already sitting on the lieutenant's lap, it's Soap who swoops in for the kiss first.
You feel his large hand push past your hair and curve around your jaw, his fingers grazing your neck before he's cocked your head back to give you a proper eye-fucking, before he's leaned down and smacked his mouth against yours, Ghost be damned.
You wiggle on Ghost's lap, your legs tightening over his thighs in an attempt to keep balance as the Sergeant all but swallowed you whole, his hands cupping around your face, keeping you from escaping.
Using the Sergeant as further support, you stretch your arms over your head and let them rest against Soap's shoulders like a warm wall, your hands cupping his face and keeping him just as pulled in, your tongues trading the taste of each other and your body unconsciously rocking over Ghost's crotch, feeling two sets of arousal brim in you from top to bottom.
Having you bouncing over his cock like this was driving Ghost feral, getting off on just the sight of you. Of course, watching you make precise work with Soap's mouth soon had the lieutenant wanting more, growing impatient waiting for the Sergeant to let up.
Ghost instead lets his hands cup over your breast, groping and massaging them generously through your shirt. His mouth finds your neck bare for his teeth, sinking them in lightly each time before he's left a heated kiss in its place, letting his lips travel down your neck until he's felt his tongue graze your collarbone, complimenting the kissing Soap gave you above.
Your mouth may be occupied by the Sergeant's, but your body belonged to the lieutenant, so long as you continued to bounce on top of him like you were.
He lets one hand leave your breast, sliding his fingers and letting them dig against your clothed skin, until it's ducked between your legs, beginning to fumble with the buttons of your pants.
It's here you've parted your mouth from Soap's, the man looking down at your doe-eyed expression, hungering for more. You see the tinge of excitement that lights up in the sky-blue of his eyes as he watches your hands make their way toward his belt, swiftly undoing it and pulling it from his waist. If Ghost would have his way with you, then you would have yours with Soap.
Ghost has slipped his hand into your pants just as you've sprung Soap's cock free of its trouser, his large member sitting in your palm like a heavy, third limb. Soap can barely enjoy the sight of you holding him so close before you've let your tongue tease over the head of him, sucking lightly at the tip and tasting the remnants of his precum on your tongue.
Soap lets his head cock back pleasurably, groaning out to himself with a smile. "Ah," he groans, "You're too good to me, Bonnie."
Soap lets his hands rest at the side of your head rather brutishly, lightly nudging your mouth further down onto his cock, his abs tensing as he listened to the light gags you let out. Despite his persistence, you kept control of yourself, making sure that your movements had the man locked into your touch. It hadn't helped that your mind was caught in two places right now.
Ghost let his two fingers massage against your clit as though he were tasked with his life to see the job done properly. The tips of his fingers dip between your folds and tease your hole, before letting your slick lubricate him, soon to return rubbing against your bud in ways that made the entire lower half of your body feel sore with lust.
And it hadn't been enough to have his hand down your pants making a ruined mess of you. Ghost's other hand very much continued to pluck and roll at your nipple, having slipped beneath your shirt at some point during the interaction, holding against you as you rocked yourself against his hand, your moans humming over the Sergeant's cock and sending a wave of euphoria down him as well.
With one hand still free, you decide it's time that Ghost enjoys himself as well. He watches your single hand with hungry eyes, slightly shaken and erratic from both his fingering and Soap's cock a mere inch away from hitting the back of your throat, the man's groans of approval like music to your ears. Your hand travels down to his belt and undoes it with ease before you've slipped him free of his jeans as well, your fingers taking in the very shape of him.
Your thumb grazes his dripping tip, letting it slick down his shaft before you've begun to pump at him, feeling the man's body tense at your touch. It makes his fingers against your clit lose their rhythm, but only momentarily.
"Fuckin' hell," he breathes out. "Just like tha', love."
The Sergeant glances down at the lieutenant, catching his dazed eyes locked on your bobbing mouth, taking in a full review of your work on the Sergeant's cock.
He could see it in the man's eyes, he was jealous, envious that he had your mouth all to himself while he had to settle for your hand. Granted your fingers danced about his shaft like an angel in her craft, though even he couldn't resist the allure that was watching your saliva dribble down his subordinate's cock, imagining the warmth of your throat struggling to take his entire length. You've felt his cock throb in your hands just at the thought, his hips faintly chasing your purposefully coy grip on him.
Soap chuckles, not being used to seeing his superior so awestruck and drunk with lust, hearing all sorts of noises and groans from the man he could never have imagined.
"Enjoyin' the show there, L.T.?" Soap teases, quickly following it by readjusting his hand on the side of your face, taking light hold of you to help further steady your already perfect rhythm.
In response, Ghost slips a third finger in you, listening to the carnal noises your cunt made at each thrust of his fingers, watching your mouth twitch over the Sergeant, momentarily struggling to suck him off through the moans that clawed out of you. That gets you to put more attention back on Ghost, your hand taking better hold of his cock and dancing over the large girth of him, keeping a steady motion until you've seen the wave-like rising and falling of his chest.
Through his light panting, Ghost taunts, "Got the best seat in the house, Johnny."
"Oh, is tha' righ', mate?" Soap licks his lips, and lets his eyes drop noticeably down to the lieutenant's cock, watching your single hand continue to pump at him, barely able to hold it all in one hand. It makes the Sergeant let out a teasing groan. "Shall we put it to the test then, L.T.?"
Ghost stares at the Sergeant, hungry for the man just as much as he starved for you.
"Be my guest, Johnny."
Hearing the two go back and forth had you giddy to see what both men had in store for each other. However, it had you just as eager to join in on the fray yourself.
After what felt like an eternity of having your drool dribble itself over the Sergeant's cock, you let your lips part from him, and with your other hand, remove yourself from Ghost as well, giggling at their kicked-puppy-dog expressions.
"I have a better idea," you say. You reach for the bottom of your shirt before pulling it over your head and discarding it at the edge of the couch. Once removed, both men fell on the same page rather quickly.
Soap's hands hastily fumbled at the clasp of your bra, before the fabric has fallen loose and your chest now lay bare for Ghost's full perusal. He hardly any time to truly enjoy it before you've momentarily climbed from him to rid yourself of the rest of your clothing, now standing a dripping, naked beauty of a woman.
Both men could do nothing more but stare, hands subconsciously stroking oneselves at the sight of you.
"Now," you say. "I can't have you both feeling so left out while the other fucks me."
"It would be cruel," Ghost quips gruffly, his eyes having been glued to your chest since he's seen your breast bounce so freely before him.
You step back over to Ghost, retaking your place over his lap and letting his cock rest thick beneath you, your sopping folds hugging warmly over him, sending a shiver down his entire body. You grind slowly, letting your fluids paint him, and wetting yourself good for what you were dying to have.
Ghost leans in, letting his hand rest on the small of your back and his lips caress the shell of your ear. "This is much crueler," he whispers. His hands immediately cupped over your breast again, recapturing the feeling of you and letting his hips lightly rock, chasing every part of you he could.
You lean forward until you've felt his nose brush the tip of yours and his breath tickle your lips.
"Don't get pouty now, Si'," you coo.
"Aye," Soap chimes in. "You're the one goin' first."
You look over at Soap playfully, leaning forward to pull him back in close by the hem of his shirt.
"I already told you two not to be greedy," you let your hand retake hold of him, your fingers curving over his girthy length gently. It shuts him up quickly, coming back in so closely to you both. "You two can share."
"What's your plan then, love?" Ghost asks, already having let his hand dive back down between your legs, gripping over his cock so the tip of his head could tease at your hole, wetness and slick coating you both.
You take your hand and you rub it against yourself, making sure every bit of your parts below had been lubed. You bring that same, dripping hand back up to Soap, before dressing his cock with your warm fluids, massaging the man, and feeling the grooves of his veins against your fingers throb.
"Now be a good little spotter and watch my back," you say playfully, before letting your eyes dip back down to Ghost. "I think the lieutenant's got the front covered."
Soap chuckles to himself, before you've felt his large hands rest gently against your bare shoulders, his callous fingers running down slowly to take a hefty handful of your ass, gripping the cheek tightly. He spreads you roughly, his eyes growing large at the sight of you, already knowing his cock would be more than a tight fit for you and devilishly longing for it.
As you've felt Soap rub his cock between your ass, letting your cheeks hug him, his hand digging possessively into your skin, you feel Ghost's hand lock over your neck, holding you there gently in front of him. That way your eyes could stay on him as his cock continued to gently nudge at your hole, only a single thrust away from finally entering you.
"You sure you can take us both?" Ghost asks.
"Wouldn't want to hurt you, lass," Soap adds in.
You position yourself better over Ghost, ready to retake your seat.
"I can handle myself, boys," you say. "Now, show me who wants it more."
You lower yourself on Ghost's cocks, feeling your folds begin to stretch and the grooves of your walls run by every vein and shape of him. It's too much at first, and he can see it in your wincing face, however, you keep lowering yourself, powering through that initial pain and instead letting that pressure boil in you like nothing you've ever felt before. It was overwhelming, and it had your lips quivering with silent moans already.
Just as you've felt your pussy start to take the full length of him, you've felt Soap tease at your second hole, his cock rubbing playfully at you, the tip dipping in ever so slightly, giving you a completely new feeling altogether. His cock stretches you just as much as Ghost's, both men easing your body to the shape of them all at once, and both waves of pleasure complimenting each other in ways that had your body shaking over them, unable to string words together.
"Fuckin' Christ, you're tight, Bonnie," Soap groans.
"Don't... stop...," you say desperately, wanting to squash any reluctance they may feel. The pleasure your body ached for was just now beginning to reach its peak. "...I can take it."
Once your body adjusted, it hadn't grown long before this slow easing had turned into an organized attack, both men pounding savagely into you.
You sat, nearly sandwiched between two men, your chest pressed against Ghost's as he hugged you to him, his cock bullying into you powerfully, the base of himself smacking against your pussy at each thrust.
In rhythm, Soap rests his chest against your back, planting kisses at your spine each time he's let himself thrust just a bit deeper inside your ass. Your hole gripped his cock so tightly it nearly pulled at him each time he came out, only to crash another orgasm-inducing thrust into you, both him and Ghost going back in forth like well-trained machines.
"That's right lovey, there you go," Ghost praises you, his breath fanning your ear. "You're takin' us so well."
In the midst of both men's vicious pounding, it felt as though every bit of you all had been entangled in some way. Hands clumsily felt, hugged, and tugged at one another, chests heaving and moans forming an opera within your living room.
When your tongue wasn't dipping itself into Ghost's mouth, then you're head was cocked back, having a few more kisses be stolen from you by Soap. At some points even, when you're face was buried in Ghost's chest attempting to muffle your moans, you've felt both men lean in to keep each other company in the meantime, rough lips pressed harshly to one another in a passionate kiss you only wished to mirror once they've parted.
Mouths part just enough to concentrate on breathing, each gasp of air being halted by yet another thrust from both ends of you.
Both men have felt an animal-like fury come out of them at each orgasm they've pulled, feeling your body tighten over their cocks and your limbs shake with pleasure, drool, and tears leaking from you, your mind completely scrambled after eleven straight minutes of this.
It isn't until Ghost has opened his eyes again, finding your face twisted with pleasure, and seeing the Sergeant's love-drunk expression -- eyes half-lidded with lust, biting his lip -- that Ghost feels himself finally at his end.
His fingers claw harshly into your skin, his pace growing punishable. Seeing the lieutenant move so carnally clicked in the sergeant's mind quickly what that had meant, already being at the brink of a climax himself.
You hug yourself over Ghost's shoulders, your body so exhausted you could pass out right now before they've even finished. Even so, you couldn't get enough of this sensation; this could go on for another hour if they wanted it to.
"...I'm ready for it," you moan. "Give it to me..."
Both men's cocks pulsate in you, your holes being filled to the brim with their cum, as it drips from you sloppily once they've pulled themselves out.
With heavy huffs, everyone in the room falls back onto the couch, taking a moment to themselves to regain their air. You still couldn't believe that just happened... that any of this had happened.
"So," Soap pants out, about ready to crash on your couch again. "Which one of us did'ye think wanted you more?"
You give Soap a sly look, baffled he would even ask you that right now. "I don't know."
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Author's Note: The behemoth has been slain! I'm NEVER typing a request that is longer than 3k words ever again (this took me almost a month and a half to type due to my schedule). However, I am open to any requests for prompts with the CoD boys, though preferably none that are straight smut (I'm kind of burnt out on it atm :/).
I do hope you enjoyed this, however, and please feel free to leave a comment or any feedback! Thank you again!
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297 notes · View notes
thesupreme316 · 8 months
Note
hi i don’t request stuff so bare with me how would aew boys react to you having a big return like Kris Statlander ex: you lost your title and left and you come back and win the title again sorry if this makes no sense i’m not good at requesting 🫶🏼😢
yall gotta stop apologizing for being CREATIVE CUTIES
AEW Stars React to: You Returning and Winning Your Title Back (Fem!Reader)
Pairings: Hook x Fem!Reader, Ricky Starks X Fem!Reader, Dante Martin X Fem!Reader, Darius Martin X Fem!Reader, Eddie Kingston X Fem!Reader, MJF X Fem!Reader, Christian Cage X Fem!Reader
Word Count: 1.1K
Supreme Speaks: thank you to anon for requesting (yall keep em coming), sorry that this took me so long (shit happening). But please enjoy this and p.s you are loved and appreciated
Warnings: not proofread, my regular react wrestlers, GIFS AINT MINE
Taglist: @hooks-martin @wwenhlimagines @sheinthatfandom @hookerforhook @triscillal @cassiesworldsworld @eddie-kingstons-wifey
Backstory:
Either you were injured and surrendered your title (you never lost it technically) or you lost it in a fluke to your opponent (just do whatcha want)
For months you spent away from the company, trying to gain your strength and feeling back
But now, you were back and better than ever
And you were owed a rematch
Right when the so-called champion called out for an open challenge, you were the first to answer that call that night
To your surprise, the whole arena rose to their feet and loudly cheered you on when hearing your theme (ex. Kris Statlander and or AJ Lee)
And after the match was over, you stood tall with your title high above your head again as the crowd again screamed loudly
(Or you can skip this and have a great segment like Trent with Sue’s van)
The entire moment/match went viral
However, they weren’t the only ones happy to see you tho
Hook
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Mans had no idea that you were here
Was stunned into silence; with a big ass smile on his face
You were picked up into a hug by him; would definitely whisper sweet things into your ear or skin
“I’m so happy to see you back”
I think this will encourage him to try to win back his title quicker
Hook is the type of person (whether you're his best friend or girlfriend) to take this return personally as it is a start of a new era for you
Wants to celebrate with you in private ;)
HE WOULD ALSO WEAR YOUR MERCH TO SHOW HIS SUPPORT
Ricky Starks
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OOOOOO THIS MAN IS SO COCKY RIGHT NOW
I also think he would be that person who would almost spoil your return out of excitement
You thought he was arrogant after he won the Owen Hart tournament? PUH-LA-ESE
Would reference you in his promos
“I’m a part of the winning team. I mean have you seen my hot ass champion of a girlfriend (or best friend; whatever you prefer)?”
Would book a photoshoot just for you to show off your championships
Defs would make you guys match in outfits and would get you in a storyline with him
I def see you as his manager/valet (IMAGINE THE (eventual) HEEL HEAT)
You two would take over AEW as the new IT couple or duo
Darius Martin
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Tbh, it gives him kind of a nostalgic feeling when he returned during the tag team battle royal
He would be so incredibly happy for you
Would keep up with all your appearances and matches afterward
“I am the president of the Y/N protection squad *poses with lads*”
Genuinely hopes that everything goes well for you
Will do your signature move to show his support for you
Also, expect a celebratory dinner or movie night
But don’t get it twisted this man is mad at you for not telling him about your return
“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME? I was just joking when I was gonna carry the cutout of you to the ring”
He was in fact not kidding (he was just a lil goofy)
Dante Martin
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THE BABY
With him on the shelf, he is emotional for you
“That was amazing! The crowd really went wild for you!”
Has multiple emotions tbh; happy, anxious, a little sad
Wishes he could really celebrate with you
I also think because of the fact he has been out of action for a while, he’s dreaming of a return like yours; especially with a championship in his mind
I think he would be a little sad because you’re gonna be busy as hell
“I’m gonna miss the off days with just us two.”
To which you promised to drag him all around to wherever you were wrestling
He didn’t have a choice
Eddie Kingston
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“THATS RIGHT DAWG!! YALL SEE THIS SHIT?”
Makes a post about you on Instagram
He’s genuinely happy about the two of you being champions at the same time
Will brag to everyone backstage
“YOU SEE THAT BRYAN? I HAVE FRIENDS THAT ARE CHAMPIONS, SORRY YOU CAN’T SAY THE SAME!”
Eddie, just like how I always say, is a very emotional person (even though he doesn’t wanna show it)
But he will make sure that you know how proud he is; even if he gives you a shoulder tackle
I also think Eddie sees every win as a win for the whole crew
Like Darius, he is upset that you didn’t tell him about your return but it made him excited about wrestling again
MJF
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THIS MOTHERFUCKER PART 496792466
Would make a backhanded compliment about you
“Although it wasn’t as epic or spontaneous or memorable as my return last year, congrats to Y/N Y/L/N for making her return to the ring! BAY BAY”
After some choice words, he updates his Twitter again
“I reviewed my tweet after Y/N confronted me (with dice, a wooden spoon, and a lighter) I realize that I made some errors. I meant CONGRATULATIONS TO THE WONDERFUL AND ABOVE AVERAGE GENERATIONAL TALENT Y/N Y/L/N!”
Will ask you to shout him out occasionally (imagine having a friendship like him and Adam Cole)
No but for real, he’s happy for you
I think this man would shower you with gifts in private so you can fully get the MJF experience
Will bring you up in interviews; especially about people he can kind of give props to (his words not mine)
Christian Cage
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THIS MAN IS MY SUGAR DADDY AND-
I feel like this man would be very proud of you
Would not dare hold your championship as you threaten him about that
But he would announce himself with your title in the same sentence (ex below)
“I AM THE TNT CHAMPION AND I am the significant other/best friend of the AEW Women’s Champion! Therefore, you all should respect me!”
Definitely would tell Luchasaurus to protect you as well
Loves how confident you became since winning
Also remember how I said he’s a sugar daddy?
Mans would buy you anything just for holding the championship at one point it almost becomes an accessory
Even if you didn’t have a championship, Christian would splurge on you just because
YOU DESERVE IT BIATCH
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mothandpidgeon · 10 months
Text
Aunt Flo's First Visit [pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader]
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MASTERLIST
Pairing: pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader
Summary: After Sarah gets her first period, Joel is determined to be a supportive parent despite the fact that he doesn't know the first thing about menstruation. But when he goes to the pharmacy to shop for supplies, he finds himself in way over his head.
Words: 2k
Rating: G
Warnings: period stuff and everything that comes with it
a/n: This is really fluffy and a little silly. I saw a tik tok by a menstrual product company about a customer trying to find the right thing for his daughter and it just gave me such Joel energy this happened. I haven't finished any fic in MONTHS because I'm working on my book and that's not finished either so it feels really good to complete something. (If you want to keep up with my publishing journey, I'm mainly documenting it here.) Please enjoy.
Also, I challenged myself to write in present tense bc I never do and I really was struggling so pretend the grammar is all correct. Thank you.
Joel knows how to do a lot of things. He can manage a crew, change a flat tire, and build just about anything. He never considered himself smart by the classical definition but he knows how to make a car battery from scratch despite the fact that he got a C in chemistry. 
If somebody had told him a decade ago that he’d one day be paralyzed with fear in the feminine hygiene aisle, he would’ve laughed. But right now, Joel would give all his knowledge along with his left arm if he could just figure out what the hell he ought to buy for his daughter.
He knew this day would come eventually. It’s his own damn fault he never prepared himself. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he must’ve expected Sarah to just know how to handle it. Being a single dad wasn’t a walk in the park but he couldn’t imagine how much harder it would be if Sarah wasn’t so damn self sufficient. Even at 13, she can get herself fed and dressed and off to school without help. Of course she could figure this out on her own.
But Joel was reminded that Sarah’s still just a kid when she finally told him that she’d gotten her period for the very first time. She was so embarrassed to admit it, Joel practically had to drag it out of her. 
He was angry with himself. He should’ve been ready, wished that he knew the right words to say. Joel promised himself he would put things right so she wouldn’t feel like she ever had to hide anything from him. 
That was a lot easier said than done, he realizes now.
Joel stands in the aisle overwhelmed and confused. Boxes and soft packages in friendly, pastel colors stare at him from the shelves. He’s never spent much time with the feminine hygiene products, not unless he was scooting by them to pick up a little carton from the family planning section. He hasn’t bothered to learn about that stuff. Women’s stuff. He’s not disgusted by menstruation, isn’t afraid of it. It’s just one of those things he never had to deal with. 
Without Sarah’s mom, though, he’s had to figure out plenty of girl things. He can remember the lesson on managing Sarah’s curls from the kind woman at the hair salon. Names of Shampoos and oils that felt foreign were now routine and he’s mastered using the combs and clips that looked more intimidating than some of his power tools. But he struggled for a good long while before that kind stylist took pity on him. 
And here he is again, flying blind into the female whirlwind. 
There’s so many options on the shelf. Words like HEAVY and gentle and sport. And the prices. Christ! He thought the hair stuff was expensive.  
Joel’s head is spinning but he has to get it together. He’d vowed long ago that he would be Dad and Mom too. That’s what his daughter deserves. 
Just a year ago, he hovered outside of the dressing room at the mall as Sarah tried on training bras. 
“Did you find one? You were in there for a while,” he said when she emerged.
“Dad,” she replied in that tone she was using more and more often, the one that told him to shut up.
It isn’t the changes to her body that scare him, all of the subtle ways she’s becoming less familiar. His little girl is growing up and he mourns her childhood. It won’t be long before she’s driving, going off to college. Maybe she’ll have a daughter of her own but Joel hopes she’ll wait longer than he did, have a chance to make a life for herself.
Speaking of which, he realizes he’s going to have to sit her down for a real talk about boys next. He better get ready for that one. Explaining where babies come from hadn’t been too difficult. Condoms and venereal diseases are a whole different ball game. Teenage boys are gremlins– he’d know– and Sarah’s so smart and pretty, she’s going to have to be careful. 
Joel doesn’t know how long he’s been staring at the shelves when a woman appears in the aisle, another shopper. She’s got her keys looped around a finger, headed straight for the tampons, her flip flops smacking against the bottoms of her feet. Joel has a box in his hands. He doesn’t even know what he’s picked up, it’s just got the least intimidating packaging and the price is reasonable. He can’t help but catch the woman’s eye and the look she gives him is a little wary. It must be obvious that he’s out of his depths. But she gives a polite, tight lipped smile and proceeds to ignore him as she approaches the pantheon of period products. 
He watches as her eyes dart around the shelves and quickly she makes a selection, plucking up a box clad with pink and purple silhouettes. So easy. Well, it must be easy for her. He wonders how many times she’s visited this part of the pharmacy, if her mother brought her to the store when she was Sarah’s age and showed her all the options. 
His free hand fidgets at his side and he swallows dryly. He feels like an idiot but he reminds himself that he’s got to do this. For Sarah. The woman is already half way back to the end of the aisle by the time he’s found his voice. 
---
“Excuse me, miss. Could I trouble you for a second?” you hear from the man behind you. 
You turn around, confused, but there’s nobody else that he could be talking to. Here you thought you could get in and out quickly. You’re cranky and tired and all day you’ve had toe curling cramps. It hits you like a ton of bricks every month. All you want to do is get home to your couch to watch some crappy reality tv. 
But this lumberjack of a man– broad shoulders wrapped in a flannel shirt– is giving you puppy dog eyes. You’ve never been hit on while holding a box of Tampax Pearl but there’s a first time for everything. 
“I apologize. This is real awkward,” he says, rubbing at the back of his neck with a big hand. “I’m trying to get something for my daughter but I’m a little lost.”
His voice is warm and sweet and he’s handsome as hell but you keep your distance. 
“Didn’t she tell you what to get?” you ask. 
His expression grows even more bashful and his voice lowers. 
“I’m afraid it’s, uh…well, it’s new territory for both of us,” he admits. 
You can’t help the sympathetic smile that forms on your lips. Some poor preteen girl just got welcomed into the cruel arms of womanhood. It will be all downhill from here. Wild mood swings, angry breakouts, blood leaking through her favorite pair of pants. At least, it seems, she’s got her dad on her side. It takes a lot of balls for a guy to pick up a box of tampons let alone stop a stranger and ask for help. 
You’d like to tell him that you’re too busy to help– you can hear your Haagen Dazs calling you all the way from the freezer– but you at least owe it to this kid to help him out. 
“What’ve you got?” you ask, nodding towards the powder blue box in his grasp. It looks so little in his big hand. You walk back towards him and take a look. “Oh. Nice try but I wouldn’t go with that.”
He regards his choice again. It’s kind of adorable, the way the corners of his mouth frown as he squints at the words on the front. “What’s wrong with these?” His words aren’t defensive, he’s genuinely curious. 
“Tampons can be pretty tricky when you’re that age. And those don’t even come with an applicator,” you explain. You remember trying to use a tampon that first time. You’d never put anything up there before and it stung like hell.
“Applicator?” His brows furrow and you can see fear in his brown eyes. 
“So you can put it…in,” you tell him and motion with your finger, jabbing your pointer upwards. 
His cheeks go pink. Ears too. You try to suppress a giggle as his brain short circuits for a second. His throat works as he swallows and places the box back on the shelf— gingerly, like it might explode. 
“Which are the ones that don’t…go inside?” he asks. 
It’s impossible to keep from grinning. 
“Pads,” you say. 
He nods. 
You choose a package and place it in his hands. It’s a multipack, everything from light to heavy, and no wings so she doesn’t feel like she’s wearing a diaper. 
“Try this,” you say. “She might not like them. It takes some trial and error.”
He reads over the circle in the corner that claims it’s 100% Leak Free! You can see he’s still overwhelmed but he’s far less nervous. He really is good looking and you have to wonder how he doesn’t have a woman in his life to help him out.
“This many?” he asks. 
“She might need more.” You shrug. “Just stay away from the scented ones. And you have Tylenol at home?”
“I think so.”
“How about a heating pad?”
He shakes his head. 
“Go get one,” you advise. 
He blows out air and then steels himself with a nod, ready to face the red menace. 
“I’m awfully grateful for your help,” he says and you can tell by the look on his face, he means that. 
You feel your own cheeks heat. 
---
Joel ends up behind her in the checkout line after securing an electric heating pad and grabbing an extra bottle of Motrin. 
“What do you think?” he asks, showing her what he picked.
“Good job,” she tells him. Her smile is tinged with amusement but his chest still swells with pride. Maybe he’s not such a failure of a father after all.
Now that he’s less bewildered, Joel can’t help but notice how pretty this woman is. She’s dressed for comfort without any make up as far as he can tell but that smile and the kindness in her eyes is what does it for him. If they met under different circumstances, maybe he’d try to flirt. Not that he’s had the opportunity to practice recently. It’s for the best, though. There’s absolutely no way the combination of bumbling idiot, single parent, and menstruation makes for a romantic connection. Besides he’s here on an errand for his daughter.
Joel tries to keep his eyes from wandering over her as the teenager behind the register rings her up, the pink box and two bags of M&Ms. She gives Joel one last smile before leaving the store. 
He thought he might feel embarrassed buying nothing but period supplies but he’s too busy thinking about how helpful she was. Sarah would just about die from mortification if he told her a complete stranger gave him a crash course in maxi pads. He chuckles to himself. 
“Hey!” someone calls as Joel approaches his truck.
It’s her, the woman from the pharmacy, crossing the parking lot. Joel smooths his hair.
“These are for her,” she says, handing him one of her bags of candy. “Chocolate helps.”
Joel gives a soft laugh as he weighs the M&Ms in his hand. “That I knew,” he says. 
“And, uh, here,” she tells him, holding out the long receipt. 
Joel takes the paper. On the back she’s scribbled her name and phone number. 
“You know, I don’t know. I just thought– if she has any questions. Or maybe if you do,” she says, shrugging. She’s much less confident now than she was in front of that endless selection of menstrual products. It’s cute and makes Joel feel a little less like an idiot for the way he was fumbling a few minutes ago. 
“I owe you one,” he says.
She shakes her head. “Just be patient,” she warns. “She’s gonna be a bitch but don’t take it personally.”
Joel grins. 
“You’re a good dad,” she tells him and he doesn’t know how to respond to that.
She’s already backing away towards her car and waves again. 
Joel looks at her number, once again finding something he doesn’t know. He’d give his left arm to figure out how soon is too soon to call. 
---
MASTERLIST - JOIN THE TAGLIST - FOLLOW MOTH ON TIK TOK
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authorhjk1 · 4 months
Text
December Special!
Round Two!!
Hi everyone! This will be our last and final round throughout the coming week. The links in this post will direct you to the four polls for the four chapters. Keep in mind that I will decide on the order randomly as I write along.
I put all the options into this post, beacuse I do not have the nerve to type all of this four times. Tumblr doesn't let me copy text and paste it into a post.
Have fun!
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Chapter
Chapter
Chapter
Chapter
1.
You knew this might happen. You read the script of your knew role in the upcoming kdrama. And yet, you are surprised when your co-star pulls you aside after filming that day. Seo Yeaji's face can switch in a heartbeat. From a cold and emotionless mask, to an adorable , cute smile. While she asks you, if the two of you could practice the next scene, her face shows a new expression. Lust. It's quite a spicy scene after all.
2.
Idols are always stressed, overworked and tired. On top of that, they can't even relax properly. They have to be careful about their food, words and actions. And one thing, that some people might neglect, is sexual satisfaction. That becomes a problem for Karina, Jihyo and Eunbi. Having bigger breasts only adds to their problems. Due to stress, their milk production starts to rise. When the three of them invite you to join their pre-Christmas party, they obviously have ulterior motives.
3.
IU's and Kang Seulgi's competition started, when they caught each other, having sex backstage during an award show, a couple of months ago. At first, it picked up slowly. Random challenges, send via text on kakaoTalk app, answered by pictures as proof of the accomplished mission. Now, the two of them are tied, desperate to come up with something new. Luckily, IU and Seulgi have a lot of fans, who are more than happy to help them out.
4.
You and Irene are coworkers with a special history. The two of you tried out more kinks and positions and places than even married couples. But some things are still missing. Luckily, Irene has a friend who got hired a couple of weeks ago. You were planning on welcoming her properly anyways.
5.
After just being hired by Dreamcatcher Company, you are already tasked with shooting Jiu's and SuA's special clip. Jiu knows that you are an Insomnia and that SuA is your bias. Maybe you will get to shoot another type of special clip with the two of them, thanks to Jiu.
6.
You meet your exgirlfriend IU at a high school friend's wedding. After the memories of your school times come back, the two of you sneak off.
7.
You have worked with a couple of idols already. They are often models and embassadors for brands after all. Now you are tasked with filming a small video to promote Jimmy Choo's newly designed dress. The woman who appears in your studio is no other than Cho Miyeon.
8.
Yuna has always been quite kinky. But her Christmas present for you this year is on another level. It's Ryujin. She is kneeling on her bed, wrapped in red lingerie and a bow like a gift. Her hands are tied behind her back, while her eyes are covered with a red blindfold.
9.
You have already tried everything. Drinking warm milk with honey, listening to music, reading a book. Nothing. Working out, spending more time on your job. Nothing. Even after bringing that girl home last night, Yunjin, you vaguely remember her name, didn't help at all. You still can't fall asleep. It's late at night and you are lying in bed once more. Sleepless. Then, your doorbell rings. That must be your neighbor. Chaewon. After telling her about your insomnia, she said she might know aomething.
10.
Going to college is already hard enough, considering your background. Bad grades, devorced father, stepmother and stepsister and so on. The only reason you got in was because of your scholarship. You are not a good student. But a talented football player. And now everything becomes even more difficult. While trying to learn for your upcoming test, someone knocks on your door. Tzuyu, your stepsister. Her and her mom, Jihyo, seemed to have gotten into a huge fight once again. Can you cheer her up?
11.
The one thing you love most about your job is the fact that you see beautiful women pretty much every day. Being a photographer enables you to make them take any kind of pose in any kind of outfit. Of course, when you started your career, you never thought about it like this. Until you meet Im Yoona.
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martybaker · 2 months
Note
4 - figure skater Dream/ hockey player Hob please? 👀
Ask me about my wips
Thank you for the ask! Sorry it took me so long to answer it, but I actually managed to finish the one scene (or rather two consecutive scenes) I had drafted for this au back when the idea was first conceived, so thank you for the inspiration ❤️
I am posting all that now, because why the hell not 🙃
Fair warning, this story has a very romcom logic, which is to say, don’t think about it too hard 😅
Hob and Dream attend the same university and the school’s doing some cuts and only one sport will continue to get financial support - either hockey or figure skating. Dream and Hob have a challenge to win a major competition by the end of the semester, whoever manages to do that will secure the financial support for their sport. In the meantime they of course fall in love.
The following scene features a fun dynamic that I enjoyed exploring - Dream and Corinthian as ex boyfriends :) There’s also a lil scene with Hob at the end. Enjoy :)
————————————-
There’s a slow clapping sound from the bleachers and Dream skids to a stop.
“Hello, beautiful.”
Dream sighs. This is the last person he would want to deal with right now. “What do you want, Cori,” he asks, resuming his routine practice, trying to focus on the movements rather than on the unwelcome presence of his ex.
“Why, I just came to enjoy the view.”
“I don’t have time for your bullshit.”
“Don’t you? I don’t see any company. Where’s your new puppy?”
So that’s what this is about. Dream shakes his head in disbelief. They broke up five months ago and Cori would still come back with obnoxious propositions. It was over, there was nothing else to say on the topic. There was no reason for him to explain himself to Cori, it wasn’t his business who Dream keeps company with.
“He’s not my puppy.”
“Ain’t he? He follows you around everywhere, salivating at your feet.”
Dream feels the irritation rising in him with every word Cori says, even though he knows that’s exactly what the guy’s aiming for - trying to provoke him.
“Leave Hob alone, Cori,” he hisses through clenched teeth.
“Ah, so you do care about him. Thought he was just a plaything.”
“He’s nobody’s plaything. Leave. Him. Alone.”
Cori sneers. “I really don’t understand what you can possibly see in him. What’s he have that I don’t?”
Dream snorts. “He’s not a self-centered prick, for starters.”
“That’s rich coming from you. We’re birds of a feather, remember?”
Dream doesn’t offer any response to that, which just makes Cori push harder.
“I’ve been making my way through the lacrosse team, but hockey players sure have their appeal, maybe I should mix things up a bit.”
Dream stops the routine and skates towards Cori, stopping by the boards which create a border between them.
“Can’t you find another pass-time than messing with people?”he hisses. “It’s an embarrassment that I ever believed you to be worth anything.”
Cori’s brow twitches, breaking his mask of nonchalance.
“You’re a nightmare, Cori. You play with your victims until they start to bore you and then you leave them to bleed out on the sidewalk.”
Cori snorts. “Please. They know exactly what they’re getting into with me. Everybody knows I don’t linger.”
Dream raises his eyebrows at that.
Cori frowns. “You were different. You were special.”
Dream snorts.
Cori frowns deeper, jaw clenching. He steps forward, up to the boards. “You were. I thought we had something.”
Dream shakes his head and turns his back on Cori, skating back to the middle of the ice rink.
“I bet he can’t make you scream like I can!” Cori shouts.
Dream snorts. Nothing can piss Cori off more than being ignored. “Maybe I am just good at pretending, have you thought about that?”
“Liar. You used to love our games.”
“Everything’s a game to you, Cori. That’s the problem. You don’t know when to stop. You love watching people suffer, you’re a cruel sadist, but not just in bed. You exploit every weakness. And you make everything about you. On my birthday, you took me to a goddamn shooting range!”
“You said you’d like to try.”
Dream huffs in disbelief, turning back around to face Cori.
“From a bow! I wanted to try shooting from a bow! You were only half-listening, as always. I despise guns!”
“It ain’t my fault you don’t have the guts for it.”
Dream laughs bitterly, shaking his head.
“See, this is exactly what I mean. You’re doing it again. Absolving yourself from guilt. Making it my fault. I’ve had enough of your mindgames. I’ve had enough of your sadistic universe.”
Cori shrugs. “That’s how I was made. I thought you could understand. I thought you could take it.”
Dream sighs tiredly. “That’s not a relationship, Cori. When one side is in charge and the other just takes it.”
Cori rises an eyebrow, his tone mocking. “If you wanted to switch, you could have just asked.”
Dream stares at him, unimpressed.
“This is pointless. Conversations with you never lead anywhere.”
He turns his back on Cori once again and resumes practicing his routine.
“He can’t give you what I can give you.”
“Whatever it is you think you’re giving, I don’t want it,” Dream says with finality. He doesn’t react to anymore taunts and insults Cori throws his way, until the man gives up on trying to get a reaction out of him and leaves.
The moment the door shuts behind Cori, Dream drops to his knees, exhausted mentally rather than physically. He lies on his back on the ice, staring at the ceiling.
He doesn’t know how many minutes pass like that.
When he hears the door open again, his hackles rise immediately. “Which part of ‘fuck off’ did you not understand,” he growls.
There’s a silent pause. Then he hears Hob’s voice say: “Er, sorry, I will leave if you want me to.”
Dream quickly sits up. “No. I…you can stay. I thought you were someone else.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Hob joins him on the ice rink. He’s not wearing skates, slide-stepping on the ice towards Dream. Dream cannot help but compare it to Cori’s approach. Cori would never risk his own dignity by trying to get to him on the slippery surface. Hob doesn’t hesitate to join Dream on his playground, letting Dream have the advantage of being on skates - Dream could leave in an instant if he wanted to, and Hob wouldn’t be able to catch up with him.
But then again, Hob must feel at home on the ice just as much as Dream does.
When Hob gets to him, he frowns at Dream who’s still sitting on the ice, making no attempt to get up. “Are you alright? Did you fall? Are you hurt?”
He kneels down by Dream’s side.
Dream sighs, flopping back onto his back. “No, no and no.”
“Ah. Well, may I join you?”
Dream shrugs.
Hob lies down next to him and they stare at the ceiling in companionable silence.
“I’m picturing the ceiling painted like a night sky speckled with stars, Van Gogh style, maybe? Wouldn’t it be beautiful?” Hob says.
Dream looks at the man’s profile, baffled and amused. “This is a sport’s rink, not an art gallery.”
Hob shrugs. “I just think it would look cool.”
Dream sighs. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“Do what?” Hob asks, turning his head to face Dream.
“Keep your unwavering optimism.”
Hob smiles. “Ah, well. I get up in the morning and I decide it’s going to be a lovely day, I am going to meet lovely people and experience something new. I feel very lucky that I get to do things that I love. And there’s so much beauty in the world, waiting to be seen.”
Dream frowns at the ceiling. His voice is but a whisper when he says: “I have to try. So hard. To see it.”
Hob looks at him with concern. “You find skating beautiful, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Then, doesn’t that make you happy? Don’t you feel lucky you get to do something you love everyday? That you have something to look forward to?”
“….I suppose.”
“And isn’t that beautiful?”
Dream looks at Hob, he looks into his big brown eyes that whisper promises of warmth and shelter and succor, promises of a bright happy future.
He lets himself believe in it if just for a moment.
“Perhaps. Perhaps it is beautiful.”
They don’t address the elephant in the room - the knowledge that by the end of the semester, only one of them will get to continue pursuing his dreams, surrounded by friends and family - by the community they found here. Building on the foundations they’ve laid down in this town.
The other one will have to give up on those dreams.
Or leave.
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dduane · 7 months
Note
i'm currently sick with covid and the feline wizards are keeping me company. thank you for writing them!
out of curiosity only, no worries if you don't feel like answering: do you, by any chance, have a visual reference for how big Arhu is meant to be? he was described as the equivalent of a nine year old human child but i don't know what that means to a cat. i'm imagining a little tiny baby kitten, but that can't be right...
Not all that tiny.
Balancing between two metaphors for aging is always a bit of, well, a tightrope walk. "Nine years old" is about as early as a human gets offered wizardry (Dairine being typical of an early start), so I was probably feeling around for similarities in that paradigm.
But in terms of physical development, Arhu is probably about seven months old at the beginning of The Book of Night with Moon. He's got about 60-70% of his adult size, and his eyes have finished their color change from the typical "kitten blue". This is the beginning of a cat’s adolescence, when they start getting a bit more rambunctious and challenging toward those around them.
The image of the 7-month-old cat at Wikimedia Commons gives a good sense of what Arhu’s size and general look would be. (Though naturally his coat is different.)
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...HTH! (And glad you’re enjoying the books.)
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changbinsboiledegg · 5 months
Note
hello~🩷 can i request a skz reaction where reader is taller than hyunjin and gets nervous when they try to pick them up? please and thank you🙏🏽
Hellooo 💜 I got you! Thank you for your request :))) I hope these are what you hoped for, alas, ily. 🫶 Also thank you for your patience! Also, did you mean like reactions for each skz member or just for Hyunjin? cause I did all 😅 Hope you don't mind either way!
Tall GN! Reader X SKZ
Warnings: height insecurities, petname usage, injury mentions (sorry, lmao, I wanted to have a variety in why they were trying to lift you.)
Note: Before y’all read this, I’m pretty sure you can tell, but I’m short so if anything is wrong or offensive/ sounds offensive, I’M SORRY! I promise, I did NOT intend to sound offensive so PLEASE let me know!!! As always, if no one told you today, ily. 🫶
♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎
Chan
It had been months since he'd last seen you and when he saw you, he couldn't contain his excitement.
He ran to you and wrapped his arms around you, lifting you to a height that you weren't comfortable with.
“Hey, please put me down!” You were already taller than Hyunjin— standing, but being lifted in the air? That brought on an onslaught of insecurities that you were trying to keep at bay.
Chan quickly set you down, “I'm sorry! I just missed you, are you okay? Did I hurt you?”
He was worried he overstepped a boundary. You looked around, seeing it was just the two of you. “No, I just don't want to be in the air when I'm already tall.”
You weren't sure how to voice your feelings, but Chan always knew how to piece the missing parts in.
“Love, your height is perfect. No need to feel bad about it.” He tried to cheer you up, not wanting you to be insecure.
Lee Know
“Woah! No!” You nervously shouted as your feet left the ground once Minho’s arms had strongly wrapped around your waist.
He was quick to stop trying to lift you in the air. He didn't mean anything by it, only wanting to have his arms around you in some way.
“Sorry.” He quickly apologized, his arms still around you, but loosening.
You took a deep breath to calm your nerves, “it's okay.”
Minho was quiet for a moment, trying to think of a way to make the situation less awkward. He removed his arms from your waist and suggested the first thing that came to his mind; a movie night.
You accepted, also seeking a way to ease the awkwardness of what just happened. “Sure.”
Minho even let you pick the movie, no arguments or judgement, he was just happy that you weren't upset by how he lifted you in the air moments ago.
Changbin
“Can I lift you?” Changbin asked. It was very out of the blue and unprovoked as you were both coexisting in each other’s company.
“Why?” You sounded more nervous than you intended to show. You were taller than him— by a lot.
You were even taller than Hyunjin. The last thing you wanted to do was be taller than you were now.
“Just for fun.” Changbin answered. Judging by his expression and tone, you didn't think he had any malicious intent.
You were still nervous, though. And it didn't make you feel any less nervous knowing it would be your boyfriend that would being lifting you.
But thankfully, no one was around. Because of that, you gave in. “Sure.”
“If you want me to stop or if you change your mind, tell me.” Changbin sweetly reminded you that it was okay to say no or change your mind.
You felt safer and more sure about letting him lift you, even just this once.
You were lifted in the air for about five seconds before you tapped out, which Changbin stood true to his word and put you down immediately.
Hyunjin
Hyunjin loved your height. You understood what it was like to be as tall— or taller than him.
“How tall would both of us be if I lifted you?” Hyunjin asked out of curiosity.
“Can you lift me?” You asked, challenging him almost. Deep down, you were nervous he would try to actually lift you.
Hyunjin thought for a moment as if contemplating whether he should try.
“Want to find out?” He asked, moving closer to you. The nerves inside of you bubbled up and you stopped him before he could attempt to put his arms around you.
“How about we just look up a height calculator?” You suggested. Hyunjin sensed your nervousness and left it as that, understanding why and not wanting to force you into letting him lift you.
“Alright. Yeah, if Google has one.” Hyunjin pulled out his phone, and searched one up for you both.
Han
You sprained your ankle after missing a step down a set of stairs when you were on a date with Jisung.
“Are you okay? Can you move it?” Jisung asked, panicking on your behalf. He acted as if he was the one with a sprained ankle.
“I can… Agh!” You were holding your ankle, wincing from the pain. Jisung looked down the road and checked his phone, looking something up.
“On my back! There's a hospital nearby!” Jisung bent down for you to piggy back off of him. You were hesitant, nervous that your height would be too much for him.
“No, I—”
“No time to argue! You're in pain! On my back!” He pat his back, leaving no room for arguments.
You reluctantly got on his back as he slowly and carefully lifted you.
“I can walk, you know.” You mumbled, but Jisung wasn't listening. He had one goal and one goal only; getting you to the hospital.
Felix
It was one of those times you and the guys were hanging out. You and Felix were inseparable, as per usual.
You were all playing a game together and so far, you were winning. Felix was proud to be your partner, knowing you were bound to get the win.
And you did, causing Felix to triumph over the win. You grinned happily at the others, who accepted their losses.
“I knew you could do it!” Felix gloated, wrapped his arms around you. As you felt your feet lift off of the ground, you quickly pulled yourself away from him and planted your feet back on the ground.
Felix’ expression turned into that of concern, wondering why you seemed uncomfortable.
“Are you okay, darling?” He asked. You noticed the others were watching and you felt even more nervous.
“I'm fine, just,” you lowered your voice, not wanting the others to hear, “please don't lift me.”
Seungmin
It was a few days after you broke your leg, confined to your bed or crutches until you could get the cast off.
Seungmin was there for you when you broke your leg, he was there for you in the hospital, and he was there for you everyday to check on you.
“Don't try to stand! If you need anything, I will get it for you.” Seungmin said sternly, rushing to your side and gently pushing you back onto your bed, careful not to hurt you.
“But—”
“Nope, what do you need? Water? Are you hungry? Bored?” Seungmin asked, prepared to get anything you asked for.
“Bathroom.” You sheepishly answered, knowing you shouldn't feel embarrassed but did anyway.
Seungmin nodded, “okay. I'll carry you.”
He put one are under your knees and the other securely around your back. You immediately got nervous and shook your head.
“No, no, stop! Don't,” you paused, seeing the confusion and concern on his face. “Please, don't lift me…”
Seungmin removed his arms and nodded, not wanting to make you uncomfortable in anyway.
“Okay.” He reached for your crutches and held them steady for you until you managed to stand up from the bed yourself, still towering over him even slightly hunched over.
“Let me spot you on the way there?”
This, you were fine with.
I.N
“What if I picked you up?” Jeongin suggested, see as neither of you could reach the back of the highest shelf for the snacks that had gotten pushed back.
“What if you don't?” You gave him a quick grin before trying to reach them again, attempting to use your height to your advantage.
“Maybe I can help you reach them if—”
“Jeongin, no.” You cut him off, grunting as you still struggled. You even started to consider letting him lift you, even if it would only help your fingers graze the package.
“Fine.” You sighed, growing more nervous now that you've granted him permission to lift you.
“seriously?” Jeongin hesitated, waiting for a confirmation that you're allowing him.
You didn't speak for a second, thinking it over.
“… Seriously. Go ahead.” You muttered, sticking your arm to the top shelf. Jeongin came behind you and wrapped his arms around you, lifting you slightly— just enough for you to grasp the package of snacks you two were craving, and pulled them down with you as Jeongin let go of you.
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alezangona · 1 month
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The Shadow of Khansar (Salaar Fic)
Part 9 - The Monster and His Master
Part 8 | Part 10
Notes: Definitely NSFW
The next few months pass by in a blur, albeit a productive one. Khansar’s funds are carefully allocated across various administrations with special emphasis placed on programs pertaining to education, public health, and infrastructure. The government’s focus on foreign policy allows them to settle contracts with various energy management companies across the world to provide solutions for the electrical and water shortages occurring in their external agricultural territories. The continuous expansion of global strategies provides opportunities for reallocation of employment through various industries including manufacturing and trade, though Khansar stays vigilant in maintaining a diplomatic image by hiding its more profitable ventures away from prying eyes. 
Change doesn’t come as fast as Varadha initially hopes, the truth being that mistakes occur more frequently than not and it is enough to give him pounding headaches that won’t subside. Moments of high stress are all it takes for him to retreat into himself, gaze faraway as he analyzes every possible solution over and over, a heaviness settling into the line of his shoulders.
During breakfast one morning, when Varadha is toying more with his food than eating it, Baba finally cracks. 
“The responsibility of this kingdom is not yours alone, Beta. There are entire organizations and administrations working alongside you to find solutions to the issues we are facing. Let them do their jobs, while you do yours. Not every burden is yours to bear.” Then he lets out a small smile. “Anyway, it’s important for you to learn the importance of a good stroll over a hasty run. What you’re doing now is establishing a strong foundation for Khansar’s growth and longevity. Take that for granted and you’ll give way for its fall.”
Varadha doesn’t finish his breakfast that morning and he doesn’t miraculously stop worrying either. Still, he begins to notice just how much people care. It isn’t just his face worn from sleepless nights and early mornings. It isn’t just his eyes that contain a spark of determination in the face of challenges. 
The reassurance is enough to let him sleep a bit more peacefully at night. It also helps that he feels less alone than he has in years. Particularly in moments of leisure that are spent in the presence of his loved ones. 
Morning garden strolls with Baba as he talks about his life and his Noor. 
When she’d leave for her business meetings, I wouldn’t know how to handle myself. So anxious and restless till she came home. Time used to stand still without her, but in her presence, every day would pass by faster than a strike of lightning, and just as beautiful too. I’ve had years with her… it still doesn’t feel like it was enough time. She’d be proud of you, if she was here to see you now.
Afternoon chaturanga sessions with Baachi as he curses out Varadha for winning every round. 
I still look over my shoulders sometimes, waiting for someone to fuck with us. We’ve endured years of humiliation and it feels like there’s more to withstand. I’m still not used to the way people look at us with respect when we leave the palace. I’m thankful for what we have Anna, and I’m scared to lose it too— Fuck! Again? What’s the point in playing with me when you keep winning anyway? 
Evening movie nights with Deva as they curl up on the couch, shedding their responsibilities and falling into domesticity. 
I don’t know how I did it, but I’ve managed to convince Amma to come back to Khansar. I think the only reason she’s even budging is because I’ve been begging her to come back with me and telling her it’ll be different under your rule. Even then, she’s hesitant about staying anywhere in the capital. I don’t know if I can convince her to stay in the palace, not without putting her ill at ease. After everything she’s done for me, I have to draw the line on her behalf at some point. I’m thinking of getting her a place at the outskirts of town. I’m going to hate not seeing you every night, though.
That doesn’t end up becoming a problem for too long. The first night that Deva stays away at his mother’s new house, Varadha tosses and turns for hours on end, restful sleep alluding him. His cranky mood the next morning has the entire palace walking on eggshells. That is, until Deva enters the council room later on in the day for one of their meetings. They stay on different ends of the room, but when their gazes meet, the exhaustion drains visibly from their bodies and the palace is able to breathe once more. 
“Come home with me tonight?” Deva asks once they leave the room, walking shoulder to shoulder. Varadha’s step falters for a second before he goes back to matching Deva’s stride. 
“What?” Varadha carefully observes their surroundings, staying alert until he’s sure there’s no one else around them. 
“For dinner, you idiot.” Deva’s lips quirk. “Not some clandestine meeting of lovers.”
“Can’t fault me for checking, Bangaram. I never can tell what’s going on in that filthy mind of yours.” Varadha shrugs, biting the inside of his cheek to hide his smile.
“Yes, because I’m dying for a chance to ravish you in my mother’s home.” Deva rolls his eyes, but takes a step closer to him anyway, bending down so his gravelly voice can whisper. “Though… why bother with the wait when I can fuck you in that closet instead?” 
~*~
The first dinner at Amma’s ends up being more awkward than Varadha thought possible. As inviting as she is, there’s a prying gleam in her eyes as she observes the two of them, trying to gauge what could’ve happened during the past few months for her son to willingly return to this godforsaken place. To move her here as well. He finds himself trying to impress her for some reason, telling her about all the changes he and his team are trying to bring about to the city. If he was being honest with himself, for a moment it felt like the words were being forcefully ejected from his mouth, anxiety refusing to let go of the trigger. However, when there is a lapse in conversation after dinner while they put away leftovers, Varadha catches a glimpse of Amma looking at him with a relieved expression. He doesn’t know what it means, but is able to breathe easier when she sends him off with a box of leftover chepala pulusu (fish curry) and tells him to come visit again soon.
The weekly dinners end up becoming a reprieve for Varadha when he starts to realize just how much he feels like a kid again under Amma’s roof. Gone are his responsibilities of being Karta when he steps into the threshold. She acts with him as she always had, feeding him exorbitant amounts of food, reprimanding him for not sleeping enough, and even going to the extent of massaging his scalp when he confesses to her of the pounding headache he’s suffered with for days. 
His eyes close at the feeling of her fingers running through his scalp, the smell of medicinal oil oddly pleasant and soothing as she works the tension out from his muscles. Amma continues to talk to him, voice low and pleasant as she urges him to take better care of himself and something breaks inside him. A ball lodges in his throat and he can feel wetness forming behind closed lids. When they flicker open, Deva is standing in front of him, a glass of water in hand. Concern immediately clouds his features and he shifts his body forward, only to stop when Varadha discreetly shakes his head, a wobbly smile forming on his lips. 
“Stay here with us tonight,” Amma commands, unaware of the plight he’s facing. “The second you go back to that palace you’ll spend the night overworking yourself and I refuse to let you run yourself into the ground. Deva, go set up the guest room and don’t let him leave till tomorrow morning.”
Later that night, once Amma is asleep, Deva sneaks into Varadha’s room, crawling into bed and holding him tight. 
“Are you okay?” Deva sighs against his ears when Varadha doesn’t answer immediately. “Amma ki chadastham ekuvara, anthe (Amma is just stubborn, that’s all). I’m sorry if what she said hurt you at all.” 
“No, she didn’t do anything wrong.” Varadha gulps, pressing back into Deva. “Amma gurthukuochindi, ra (I remembered my mom).” 
Deva doesn’t reply, choosing to press a kiss into Varadha’s hair, wrapping his entire body around his lost king and trapping him within the confines of his limbs. Varadha sleeps more peacefully that night than he ever has during the past few months.
The next morning as Amma sends them out of the house, she stops Varadha in his place, a hand wrapped around his arm. 
“I’ve been keeping an eye on you two since you were children. Karta and Salaar aside, when it comes down to it, you’re just two kids who’ve been forced to grow up too soon. Don’t let those titles define you for the rest of your life, nana. Don’t make the same mistakes as…” The way her gaze digs into his is enough to make him understand, so he nods back, a promise in his own right. 
She lets him go.
~*~
The peace doesn’t last long, it hardly ever does in a world like theirs. 
They start hearing of various raids across India that begin to interfere with their black market trade. Before they can consider taking action, casinos, brokerages, and banks partnered with Khansar are stormed in an effort to prevent money laundering and other illegal activities. Trucks containing various goods such as weapons and drugs are stopped en route, all the material seized and confiscated by the government. A frenzy erupts in the capital as calls are made to various seeds and contacts planted in India, demanding answers for the sudden crack down. The answer, it turns out, is rather simple.
The government of India aims to fight back against crime… to fight back against Khansar. 
It’s not an answer that sits well with anyone. Definitely not Varadha as everyone in his court looks to him for answers. Tensions rise every day in Kotagada as the Doralu debate with their Karta about the best course of action to take to preserve their economy. In the end, there is nothing but disdain as the court adjourns, no real solution to be found. 
For the time being, the best course of action is to be more discreet and careful than usual. They run checks on their supply chain to prevent security breaches. Only certain businesses are given access to trade after a thorough inspection process. Different routes are established, intricate and ever changing, with smaller shipments being sent out at a time. Overall, it’s not a perfect system, but it’s enough to get them by.
~*~
Deva’s eyes stay firmly planted on the ground and he hopes that Baba will finally break the silence. He doesn’t. He holds his cap in his hands, leaning back against the chair as if his age has finally caught up to him. Bilal doesn’t seem to be of much help either as he paces back and forth, carefully avoiding Rhinda who scowls at the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. 
The creak of a door opening snaps them to attention. Varadha steps out, face void of any emotion as he jutts his chin. 
“You can go see him now, if you’d like.” Baba doesn’t wait for him to finish the sentence before he disappears through the door. 
“I didn’t even know he could move that fast.” Rhinda tries to joke, but no one laughs. He doesn’t look too amused either as he falls back into his chair. 
Varadha makes his way to the large window, fists clenched at his sides. Within seconds, Deva is next to him.
“The name of Khansar was enough to stop them not too long ago. Now they’ve attacked us at the heart of it.” Varadha’s hand clasps ironclad around Deva’s tattoo. “I want them dead. Each and every person who dared to lay a hand on him.”
“As you command, Karta.” 
“The thought of Khansar alone should terrify them. Touch what belongs to us–”
“You pave the path to your own destruction.”
The Karta’s fist drops back down to his side and his weapon is released. 
~*~
Death for anyone who stops the seal. 
That is what Deva declares. No one in court bothers to argue. Not when it was a law that would benefit their own economy. Even if they did object, they wouldn’t challenge the monster who just committed a massacre to please his master. 
Rakshasudu.
That is what they begin to call him. Not to his face or the Karta’s. Not in scorn either, but in awe of the sheer power that he exudes. The new name becomes a declaration of acceptance. 
A violent man for a violent city. 
~*~
“A symbol. All that it brands, belongs to you.” 
The simple phrase from Deva’s lips ignites a raging fire within him. Varadha’s eyes darken in the confines of the room, gaze honing in on the devil’s mark stamped against Deva’s bare chest. 
“Come here.” Varadha commands. He watches as Deva saunters towards him, the glow from the lantern casting shadows onto his rugged physique. His fingers ghost against the seal, drinking in the intricate artwork that decorates tanned skin. The eyes of the devil leer into him, ferocious teeth barred in contempt. It was nothing more than a small circle of ink, able to fade away with the swipe of a finger. Yet, it possessed the ability to shake an entire nation to its core. 
So much power in such a small symbol. 
And the man who imbued it with that power stands before him, beautiful and pliant, his face sculpted to express unbounded devotion. 
Varadha’s hand darts out, fingers wrapping around the underside of Deva’s jaw as he tugs him closer. Deva breathes sharply, surprised by the action, but doesn’t move. He waits patiently, unblinking as Varadha leisurely devours the length of him. In a sudden flash, Varadha turns him around so that Deva’s back is pinned to his front. Deva catches a glimpse of the image in the mirror planted across from him, a pathetic whimper leaving him at the sight.
Varadha’s eyes penetrate through the reflective surface, dark, calculating, and aroused. His fingers dig into Deva’s pulse point as his other hand travels down the expanse of his torso, nails scraping against sensitive skin, eliciting a feeling so strong that Deva’s eyes flutter shut and he arches back into Varadha, desperate for a taste. The furthest he can get is the brush of his lips against the side of Varadha’s jaw before he draws back with a tut.
“Salaar,” The warmth of his breath fans against Deva’s ears, the smoky tone exhilarating him further. “My Salaar. So beautiful when you give yourself to me like this.” His hand slips further down, stopping at the bulge between Deva’s thighs. His fingers dance against the sensitive flesh, featherlight touches that have Deva working to hold back keens of frustration. That is, until Varadha palms him through the fabric of his jeans, the firm touch causing Deva to release a low moan. 
“Va–” The name catches in his throat when Varadha’s grip tightens around his neck significantly. Varadha’s lips begin to explore the curve of Deva’s nape, sharp bites that prick into his skin, only to be soothed by the gentle slip of his tongue. Varadha hums softly into him, slotting his hips against the curve of Deva’s ass and pressing into him just enough to let his arousal be felt. Slowly, the hand that is wrapped around Deva’s throat begins to descend. Within no time, Varadha works Deva out of his jeans, hands circling against the heavy length of him.
“Open your eyes and watch what I do to you.” He growls, teeth catching onto Deva’s ear. Deva’s eyes flicker open at the order and he digs his teeth into his lips at the debauched image of him in Varadha’s arms. Hair askew, pupils blown, skin marked by claiming bruises. He lowers his gaze to where Varadha’s hands are pumping him unceremoniously, his thumb circling against his slit, collecting precum and spreading it across the throbbing surface. It doesn’t take long for Varadha’s hands to become coated with the evidence of Deva’s arousal and the sight itself makes Deva tremble with need. “You look beautiful like this. Pliant in my hands, flushed beyond belief, desperate for release.” 
Deva hisses as Varadha tugs against his balls, the mixture of pain and pleasure overwhelming him enough to close his eyes for a chance of reprieve. 
“Open your eyes, Salaar. I won’t tell you again. Take your eyes off the image of what I’m doing to you and I won’t let you come for me tonight.” The warning incites panic and Deva’s lids snap open, catching the merciless grin on Varadha’s face. “Good boy.” 
The motions of his hands speed up around Deva’s cock with varying pressure and Deva is forced to watch himself break, tremors spreading across his overstimulated body. His chest heaves with panting breaths, muscles clenching in an effort to hold back his inevitable release. As he watches from tear-filled eyes, Varadha’s reflection reshapes itself in the mirror, a smug curl of his lips as it dawns on him what Deva is doing. 
“Such a good boy, holding yourself back for my sake. I didn’t even have to ask, did I? You’re just that desperate to please me.” The throaty chuckle causes Deva to flush deeper and dig his fingers into the soft material of Varadha’s clothes. 
“Please.” Deva groans, on edge. A tear rolls down the corner of his eye and satisfaction paints itself across Varadha’s features.
“Come for me, my beautiful Salaar.” A gasp leaves Deva’s lips, his cock twitching as the sticky residue splatters against the skin of his stomach. His eyes close and he leans back against Varadha, spent as his orgasm flows through his system. He can feel Varadha’s arms wrapping around his waist, lips brushing against his ears as he whispers sweet nothings while pleasure settles into his bones. 
By the time Deva is able to ground himself enough to open his eyes, he catches sight of Varadha’s gaze drilling into the seal stamped against his chest. A shudder of pleasure rocks through him when Varadha pushes him onto the bed, his hand curling around the dark mark, a wildness in the depth of his kohl rimmed eyes that has Deva hardening once more. 
“Mine.” Varadha places a searing kiss against his lips, stealing his soul from within the confines of its cage. Deva gives back just as much as he gets, wanting nothing more than to have Varadha understand that his entire life belongs to him and only him. By the time Varadha pulls away, stripping out of his shirt, Deva’s kiss-slick lips whisper back words of reassurance.
“Yours, always yours.”
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special-agent-sass · 5 months
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Running Back To You
Smut
Y/N revved the engine of her blue 1969 Dodge Challenger and floored the gas pedal, speeding down the open Montana highway. The powerful V8 Hemi roared as the landscape blurred past in a mix of browns, greens, and blues. This was her happy place, just her and the road.
It had been a year since she left DC, since she left him. After their blowout fight, she just couldn't stay there anymore, not with Gibbs. The tension between them had been building for months, both at work and in their secret relationship. She was too wild, too reckless for the stoic Marine. He wanted to tame her, and she refused to be caged.
So she came back home, back to Big Sky country where the wide open spaces matched the freedom in her soul. She started over, opened her own shop just like she always dreamed. Her days were filled with the sound of wrenches turning and classic engines rumbling back to life.
But some nights, when she lay alone in bed, she missed the warmth of Gibbs’ strong arms around her. She missed the feeling of his calloused hands gripping her hips as he took her hard against the basement wall. The way he commanded her with a simple “Y/N” in that gravelly voice.
She thought she could forget him, but a year later her heart still raced for Leroy Jethro Gibbs.
As she crossed into the town limits, Y/N sighed and slowed the Challenger to a more reasonable speed. She had a stop to make before heading home.
The familiar neon sign of the local dive bar glowed in the approaching dusk. She killed the engine and pocketed the keys before heading inside, the scent of stale beer and cigarettes welcoming her back.
She nodded at the bartender as she approached an empty stool at the end of the bar. Within minutes, a cold longneck was waiting for her. Y/N took a long pull and tried not to stare at the handsome cowboy chatting up the redhead a few stools down.
“Now what’s a pretty little lady like you doing in a place like this all alone?”
The cowboy slid onto the stool next to her, giving her a smile that was probably meant to be charming but just came across as sleazy.
“Just looking to enjoy my beer in peace,” Y/N said evenly, not giving him much attention.
But the cowboy wasn’t deterred that easily. He leaned in closer. “A woman like you oughta have a man to keep her company. Why don’t you let me buy you a drink and show you a good time?”
Y/N clenched her jaw, reigning in her temper. “No thanks,” she said sharply.
The man was persistent, though, reaching out to touch her arm. “Oh come on sugar, don’t be like tha—”
“The lady said no.”
A rough, familiar voice interrupted the cowboy’s slurred words. Y/N’s heart leaped as she looked up to see Gibbs standing behind the man, ice blue eyes flashing. The cowboy scowled but seemed to think better of arguing with the intimidating older man and tipped his hat to Y/N before departing.
“Didn’t need your help, I had it handled,” Y/N muttered, trying to ignore the way her body was already reacting to Gibbs’ close presence.
“I know you did,” Gibbs said, his eyes softening as he looked at her. “Just didn’t want to watch that ass paw at my woman any longer.”
Y/N swallowed hard at his words. They stared at each other for a long moment, the air electric between them.
“Wanna get out of here?” Gibbs asked gruffly.
Y/N nodded, tossing some bills on the bar before following him outside into the cool night air. They got into his truck, the old Ford rumbling to life and kicking up dust as they headed for her house on the edge of town.
As soon as they were inside, Gibbs pressed her up against the door, kissing her fiercely. Y/N moaned into his mouth, feeling like she could finally breathe again after so long without him.
“Missed you, Y/N,” Gibbs growled against her neck as he sucked a mark into her skin. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you, about this.”
He squeezed her ass to emphasize his point and Y/N gasped. “Jethro,” she whimpered, already so wet for him.
Gibbs smirked, manhandling her toward the bedroom. “Gonna remind you who you belong to, baby girl. I need my Y/N back.”
They tumbled into bed together, relearning each other’s bodies with eager mouths and roving hands. He kissed every inch of inked skin, paying special attention to the secret spots that made her moan his name. When Gibbs finally sank into her tight heat, Y/N cried out his name, overwhelmed by how right it felt to be in his arms again. There was no slow build this time - the need to claim her was primal, urgent.
“So perfect for me, baby,” he praised, setting a relentless pace. She clasped him tight, meeting every thrust and urging him on. The bite of her nails and the sinful roll of her hips pushed him right to the edge. He wanted to watch her fall first.
“Come on, baby. Cum for me,” he commanded, driving into her sweet spot until she shattered with a sharp cry. The pulses of her release triggered his own and he followed her over, burying his face in her neck as ecstasy crashed through him.
Later, nestled against Gibbs’ strong chest, Y/N traced random shapes on his chest.
“Missed you too, Jet,” she whispered. “As wild as I am, I’m still yours. Only ever wanted to be yours.”
Gibbs pressed a kiss to her hair, holding her close. “I know, baby. We’ll figure this out, together. I love you, Y/N.”
“Love you too.” Y/N tilted her head up for a soft kiss, heart full and racing, always racing, for Leroy Jethro Gibbs.
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xwingsandohs · 7 months
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did anyone say good omens fanfic x cupid!reader ?!?!?
good evening tumblr. i have many thoughts for the ineffable fandom. can’t get out of my head a cupid!reader that crowley hangs out with now that azi is gone?!?? broken heart crowley?!?! crowley x reader smut ?!? gender neutral reader?!?!? gender bending crowley?!?!? sex shop running cupid ?!?!?!??! 🫣🤔🤭🪽
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I wrote a drabble. Please send thoughts. May write a fic 🫣 XOXO, xwingsandohs.
Angels and demons have always been assigned their roles on earth to protect peace and create chaos, but it’s in the 15th century (or so) that the Almighty notices that humans have evolved themselves beyond simple procreation. And so God creates the Cupids, not necessarily a legion of angels and definitely not demonic, but a collection of holy beings powered by Earthly love to bring happiness and prosperity to humanity in new ways.
Where Aziraphale was defined by white hair and golden clothes, Crowley recognised by fiery red locks and sleek suits; this particular Cupid is defined by a rainbow of colours, patterns and flowers for every occasion.
It’s been three months since Aziraphale left for Heaven’s gates, or escalators to be more accurate, and your attempts to foster and create love in London has suffered thanks to a certain lonely demon moping around. Crowley can’t admit he just needs the company.
“Coffee?” You ask, Crowley hums positively. “What would you like?”
“Something strong.” He’s sitting on a lovely green couch in the back room of your shop, sprawled in all his comfort. It’s decorated with a variety of silly cushions, one particular eye-catching one being bright blue with orange tassels.
The room is littered with beige boxes of spare stock and new deliveries, but you still keep it looking bright with a mis-matched collection of hanging prints and printed wallpaper. You keep it on theme with what you stock.
“I know that, silly.” You shake your head and smile as always, you both do this routine most mornings. The coffee bean grinder grunts loudly and you pick out two big mugs from the cupboard. “What shall I try draw in your coffee with the milk? You know I’ve been practising.”
You have been practising. Despite coffee not being the main draw of your high street shop, you have a vision of giving out free drinks to customers if you can master the art of the latte. You’re getting better, actually.
“A leaf.” Your friend responds, standing up and heading towards you.
“You say that every time!”
Crowley picks up the yellow striped mug you’d taken out for his drink.
“I like the leaf.”
He’s nonchalant. He puts the mug back and looks around for the one he wants.
“But it’s easy and I’d like a challenge. Something silly.”
You grin up at him with a little humour, and he looks back to you with a raised brow.
He can’t find the mug.
You look up and find the mug immediately. It’s completely plain and black, with a slightly lighter shade of grey on the inside. He bought it and gave it to you especially for his drinks. You always fight back.
“Fine.” Crowley says with exasperation. “How about….” He looks around for inspiration in your decor, finding little that he wishes to ask for. “A tree?”
“Oh, I know!” You almost cut him off, exclaiming. He doesn’t know why you bother asking, again, this is your routine. His eyes roll and you can sense it without even seeing. “I’ve just remembered something I saw online the other day and I’d like to try it out.”
“Sure.” He rubs across his face with his hands then spins on the spot to head back to a seat on the couch. The milk steamer screeches and he considers it his cue.
“Could you do me a quick favour before I unlock the doors?” He stops, seconds away from reclaiming comfort on the velvet. He’s not your assistant, but you tend to always ask for these little things.
“I know you’re not my assistant, but there’s a pile of online orders printed out that I need to put together. Could you grab that pile from upstairs for me? It’s next to the-“
“The computer.” He finishes. Routinely.
You finish the coffee.
By the time he’s brought down the pile of paper and placed it where you like it behind the till incase of a quiet moment, you’re skipping over to unlock the door and flip the sign to ‘Open!’ Before it hits 9:01.
Then you rush back to grab the two mugs.
Crowley looks around at the shelves and pegs that hold the stock and shakes his head at everything he sees, humans and their rubbish. He does however appreciate the collection of green plants that have found a place amongst the shelves since he’d been spending lots of time here. They perhaps even look happier than his own, or maybe the colourful shelves really bring out their green.
“I wonder what lovely people will walk through our doors today?” You say with a smile, taking your first sip of coffee and smearing the pattern. Your hand holds out the other cup to Crowley.
He shrugs, takes the coffee from your hand and looks down at the pattern. “It’s a…”
“-A seahorse!” He wouldn’t have guessed it really, but when you point it out he notices. It’s definitely an animal of some sort.
“I like it.” He doesn’t really care for it, but you seem to like the labour, he understands that care. “Although it’s a little…”
He’s not going to say the word.
You’re still grinning, you know the word.
“A little…?” You ask.
“You know, it’s…” He doesn’t say.
“Phallic?” You say it. He doesn’t look away from the coffee.
“Phallic.” He confirms with an unsurprising demeanour .
“I know!” You giggle, he shakes his head.
“You really do take this all very seriously, don’t you?” Crowley chuffs as he leans back against the counter and takes his first sip.
“You could say it’s all about passion in this business.”
Well…. What else would a Cupid sell? The bell above the door rings.
“Good morning.” You call to the first two customers that come through the door. They respond politely back. “Welcome to Sugar ‘n’ Spice, let us know if we can help with anything.”
“Actually, we were looking for some bondage gear?” The lady says as her partner shrinks slightly behind her.
“Of course! Let me introduce you to our selection and then I’ll leave you to shop on your own.”
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