theshrikeandcanary

[theshrikeandcanary]

Yet another obscure hybrid banger

Secretary reader who gets relentlessly bullied by the 141 because youre so small, some sort of low presenting shrimp hybrid is what you told them.

Well, you get just a bit tired of the teasing, and confidently state "I could easily drop any of you."

To which soap just as confidently states "fuckin' bullshit. Here, just try." With arms outstretched.

...the ride to the hospital for soaps three broken ribs is very awkward. Guess they forgot about mantis shrimp.

[theshrikeandcanary]

My love of obscure hybrids knows no bounds.

Glass frog!reader who shows the guys your favourite party trick. Holding a flashlight to the small of your back, shirt lifted just enough to show off your stomach.

Soap nearly chokes when your muscles tense and your skin becomes fucking see-through. Your organs a bit transparent too, they can literally see the way your organs twitch and blood pumps through your veins. It's so cool, and all soap can think about is if he could see his dick inside of you through the skin.

Ghost, with less social inhabitantions than soap, asks bluntly "ye ever been fucked like that?"

And you?? Actually answer?? Laughing while you pull out your phone "tried it a few times but it freaks guys out, here I have a photo and-"

The photo is of you sitting on a bright blue dildo, generous in size and pressing against your walls in a way that the blue peeks through the translucent skin. It's absolutely sinful. All the guys can think about for the rest of the night is what they'd look like inside you. Maybe they could convince you to let them stuff you with cum. Holding a light up to see it inside you?

[theshrikeandcanary]

I ADORE fics with nipple pierced woman (a little bit of self insert for me, as a treat!).

Also I love your writing!!! The balance between Clark and his Superman persona is incredible. Instant follow <3

XO

SUMMARY: Clark sees that you have nipple piercings while he has his X-Ray vision activated. Based on this idea. TAGS: 18+, smut, accidental voyeurism, off canon, m!masturbation, mentions of piercings, reader is clark's colleague, romantic tension, miscommunication, fingering, reader is bad at flirting, clark can't get drunk and reader doesn't know, oral fixation, lots of nip talk, teasing, edging (3.3k wc)

𖤓 david corenswet masterlist | main masterlist | inbox 𖤓

The bullpen was in utter and pure chaos. Phone lines ringing off the hook, interns rushing to their desks with stacks of research materials to the shoebox of a desk they were assigned to, Perry's voice was shriller than usual — which probably meant something newsworthy & nuclear had just unraveled.

Clark pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Walking in with his usual unassuming gait. Taking up the least amount of 'space' with a couple of minor nods to the colleagues that had acknowledged him. The morning staff meeting had already been underway. Bodies huddles around the source of the loudest voice in the room.

"LexCorp," Perry barks out," has been infiltrating media powerhouses across Metropolis." Clark folds his arms, crossing the room with a few strides next to Jimmy. Who'd been ooh-ing with the masses, half a bagel in his mouth, offering Clark the other half, who grabs it with a hastily folded tissue.

"Who gave the tip?" Olsen shrugs dusting his hands off the bagel crumbs. "Dunno. Chief found a folder on his desk. Anonymous tip." Clark nods thoughtfully, he'd known that there'd been something shady going on with Lex Luthor for a while now.

He'd been following breadcrumbs for weeks, but found nothing incriminating enough to indicate Lex being stupid enough to bug a news house. (Which he probably was)

Perry points squarely at Olsen. "You & me are going to be sweeping the floors to see if anything looks tampered with." The shorter man shoots Perry an awkward thumbs up when the crowd disperses. It's then he jolted like he'd been tasered at the hip, nearly launching his phone to the other side of the room.

"Jesus—"

Clark snaps his head down to see Olsen elbow the girl next to him in real time — you, who had the unfortunate privilege being next to him while he was apparently mid-seizure. His full-body twitch startling you enough for the tea you were sipping to slosh down the front of your cream-coloured blouse. Your gasp followed, with a slow, vindictive mutter. "What the hell, Jimmy."

A hand shoots out within your peripheral, the stiffly hunched man who'd been observing, hands you a bunch of napkins before you could even think to get them for yourself. Olsen on the other hand, had a look on his face akin to someone who was never about to hear the end of this.

"I'm sorry! I was waiting from a text from Ev—.. from someone all damn day."

You were busy blotting your blouse with an awful stain spanning across your abdomen, uninterested in Jimmy's theatrics. Turning heel, you were in midst of un-tucking your blouse from your skirt when Clark falls in step next to you, pushing one of his spare plain white button down that smelled faintly of fabric softener into your hands. "Take this."

You blink up at him, offering him tight smile at his second gesture, which was doing a good job in easing you out of your bad mood. "Thanks, Kent."

He nods slightly, corner of his lips quirking upward to coax the shy dimple out, clearly proud of being useful. "Anytime."

He winces at how his voice sounded like it was stuck in his throat, shaking his head, hoping you hadn't caught that as he followed your figure disappearing behind the supply closet.

Perry was muttering about checking behind the plant pots, as if a multi-million dollar tech maniac would do something as juvenile as that. Clark figures then, it would be much easier to catch transmitter devices with his x-ray vision. It seemed like a good idea.

So he adjusts his glasses inconspicuously, sweeping his gaze through the office discreetly. Filtering through the drywall and vents. Layer by layer, looking past the wires, not quite detecting any alarming electrical signatures.

And then, he sweeps past the supply closet. A body, mid-change. Your back was initially turned, arms moving as they unhooked the clasp through muscle memory. You finally turned to grab the shirt across you.

Clark's vision stills. Zeroing in on two metal-like barbells where your chest were. His eyes widened before his head whips to the side, converging his sight to normal. It was far too late, his brain burning the image into itself like a corrupted file refusing to close.

No way they'd been nipple piercings. You? The most Type-A stringent woman he'd worked with? He was halfway through spiraling, trying to convince himself he might've seen wrong. That's when you step out the room. Don Johnson-ing the oversized sleeves that you were folding up to your elbows. Clark swallows, looking up from your hands, and to the evidence that was irrefutable. An unnatural divot poking through just slightly through the soft fabric.

Yeah. They were nipple piercings all right.

For once in his life, Clark Kent thought his powers felt more like a curse.

He couldn't, for the life of him, understand why humans would willingly mutilate themselves like that. Despite his self-proclaimed discipline, he was stuck thinking about them on a dreadful loop. From the second he'd left the office — to when he was in the middle of lifting a beast the size of Lady Liberty into containment.

Did they not hurt? Wouldn't it catch on something and — gosh, he shouldn't be thinking of you like this. Or at all.

His willpower doesn't stop the knowledge from haunting him all the way back to his apartment. Not even when he'd slammed his apartment door behind him, or when he'd subjected himself to a punishingly cold shower.

It also doesn't stop him when he looks down to the pulsing ache bobbing up against his abdomen. Twitching increasingly when the unwelcome memory plagues him. Demanding his touch.

A violation, was what it was. His hands twitched at his sides, now hovering over the tap. He shuts it with a finality and his palm wraps around his cock like he was being forced to.

This wasn't about her. Not at all.

A soft sigh escapes his lips when he drags his palm up. A warm pleasure filling his gut. He repeats it to himself like a mental mantra. The familiar routine. Something he only did when absolutely necessary to take the edge off. A man of honor, steel — who was now stroking his cock in steady pulses, committed to doing so with absolutely nothing (and no one) on his mind.

Except it wasn't doing anything to ease the ache.

He thinks about the first pornographic magazine he'd found tucked in locked boxes in the attic on his parent's farm. Clark made it a point not to acknowledge the faces. In his own justification, felt less dehumanizing. Though he had pages dog eared for the women smiling, all carefree and joyful.

The hold he had around his cock tightens. Thumbing the vein leading up to his tip.

This felt good, he thought.

His tongue catches his lower lips, eyes fluttering shut in focus on the thought of breasts. He'd always been a tits over ass type of guy if questioned. Soft, natural. Peaks that he could coax, fat to squeeze.

Pre-cum oozes from his reddened tip. Whatever he was fantasizing was working to a fault.

He thinks about running his tongue over the curve, flicking his finger over the nipple, feeling it harden beneath his touch.

Clark's breath stutters. Squeezing harder. Pumping faster. The rasp in his voice echoes in the confined space, glass turning foggy with heat.

He thinks about twisting the nipples, flicking over the cool metal on the nipples.

"Shit —.. oh..shit." Clark's mind stutters. That was new. His brows furrows, and he speeds up his strokes.

He thinks about dragging his tongue over barbells, suckling at them. Pulling out her soft and whiny moans. His balls tightens at the thought of nipple piercings.

And by instinct, your face flashes in his mind.

His hips jerk harder into his palm. Other hand slamming into the tiles flat when he heaves, thick spurts of cum bubbles over his fingers. Clark pants heavily. Eyes wide and frazzled.

What the hell just happened?

You swore you weren't imagining things.

Clark Kent. The man who'd hovered around you persistently, always helping you at even a flutter of your handkerchief falling to the floor, was now avoiding you. No eye contact, no that-little-nod he always does when he comes in to work in the mornings. It'd been a whole week of stiff hellos and him vanishing whenever you walked into the break room.

His hot and cold act was starting to sting.

You hadn't done anything to him. Except borrow his button down which you promptly returned.

It was going to take a hell lot of compartmentalizing to get through the day, especially with the little office party Perry decided last minute after the newspaper finally snagged the number one spot in the listings — it wasn't anything fancy. Just a bunch of mismatched chairs and repurposed streamers dragged out of storage, with cheap beer bottles enough to loosen inhibitions.

You'd spotted Clark tucked in the corners next to the tables, looking like he'd single-handedly about to demolish every bottle left within reach.

Huh. So he actually drinks.

Grabbing your own bottle, you boldly make your way over to him. You had a good number in your system, booze wise. Tipsy enough to be brave, sad enough by the imaginary line that was drawn between Clark and you, and sober enough to realize the repercussions if things ended badly.

He doesn't register your presence until you were standing right before him.

"That's what, six?" Clark's eye line follows where your head motions, to the empty bottles next to him. He rubs his neck sheepishly, noting how your heart beat seemed to pick up when he looks back at you. "Seven. They're light."

You nod, pursing your lips in thought. He feels the table creak at the weight of you leaned up against it. Next to him. It was quiet for abit. And then you speak. "I didn't peg you for a 'drink to forget kind of guy'."

Clark huffs out a soft laughter at your usage of air quotes around that. He wishes he could've told you that the beer wasn't beer to him. There wasn't even an ounce of flush on his cheeks. After all, his DNA wasn't coded to feel inebriated on a planet with a yellow sun. "Not forgetting. Just…recalibrating."

You try not to say what you actually think. But this might just be your only chance to, after some gained from a courage hefty swig, "…recalibrating to avoid me?"

His eyes shoot to yours. Wide and guilty. "I haven't —"

"You have," you interrupt. Defensive with animated hand gestures as you tried to get your point across. "And I don't know what I did. But. I thought…we were closer than that."

Clark opens his mouth, ready to deny.

"WOOOOAH. Sorry!" You both hear Olsen before seeing him. He stumbles right into Clark. Shoving his elbow forward.

You didn't see it coming. Not for the second time in barely a week. The same cream blouse, now doused in foamy, cold beer. Clark looked mortified, the bottle in his hand half tipped towards you. "Shit! I'm so — I didn't mean to." He turns around to shoot a glare at Olsen, who was blissfully wandering off.

Clark groans as he looks back at you, shoving the bottle to the nearest table to nudge you around and away from where you were dripping onto the carpeted flooring. "Here, come with me — c'mon." You let yourself be ushered by him to the handicapped stalls down the hallway, with his palms planted at the small of your back. Perry's bathroom to be exact. It was the only stall on the floor probably big enough to fit Clark without him having to uncomfortably scooch around in.

The door shuts behind the both of you, and he's already gathering paper towels in his hands. "I'm so sorry. Really." His voice was breathless, steady. "Can't believe I did that."

"I can. Jimmy's a walking liability."

Clark doesn't laugh at that. No. His eyes are elsewhere. Particularly on your chest. Where your piercings were damn near see through your top. "Kent?" Your brows furrow and you looked down. Lips parting as if you already know why he was properly gobsmacked.

"Oh." You huff out, trying to peel the sticky fabric away from your chest. "That. Yeah it's…a doozy." You muttered. "Reckless teenage stuff. Grew on me after a while."

"I…didn't mean to stare." He chokes out. An apology didn't feel like it would cut it at this point, so he holds out the napkins for you, his fingers having left holes through the flimsy papers.

"That's okay." You shrug. Feeling a warmth bloom on your cheeks at the way he was looking at you, and actually feeling bad about it. "Not much of this around Smallville I'm guessing?"

He lets out a pitiful strained laughter when you gesture around your chest for emphasis. He drags his hand down his jaw. Shaking his head to look up and away from your middle. "No. Not at all."

You hum in acknowledgement. Not quite trying to blot the golden stains off your blouse anymore. Clark considers saying more, but the words you say next knocked the absolute wind out of him.

"Do you wanna see?"

For a second, you thought you were looking at a portrait of someone. Because Clark Kent did not move an inch. Didn't blink. He looked genuinely pained at that question, like he was scared of what the answer might be when and if he responded. When he did speak? It was a breath exhaled.

"What?"

Your lips twitched. Palms waving in the air as though to dismiss the thought. "I get the question a lot, I don't mind. But — it's okay. Forget I asked." "No!"

It comes out rushed. And he slaps his hand around your wrists. Startling you. "I do." He blurts, stepping closer to you. Lowering your wrists a fraction." I want to see them. Please."

"Yeah?"

He nods with a boyish excitement, which you can only let out a forced nervous slash relieved laughter at.

Out of all the reckless decisions you'd made so far, this wasn't one of them you thought capable of. And weirdly? You had Jimmy Olsen to thank for that.

You don't let yourself think it through entirely, free hand attempting to snap the buttons off. But it's hard to, with how he still refused to let go. He watches with bated breaths at your now unraveling bare, glossy skin. Nothing but your thin bra underneath, the barbells evident on both nipples, indents clear beneath the maroon fabric.

Clark looks at you like a man seeing tits for the first time ever.

With a stuttered breath, you unclasp it, the wet blouse and bra unceremoniously thudding on the tiles.

It felt exposing and embarrassing all at once. Clark takes a few steps closer, transfixed on the slope of your breasts, rising and dipping with the deep breaths you took. "They're…pretty." He mutters. Taking a verbal observation of the heart shaped rubies on the barbells.

You don't trust yourself with words. Only a soft exhale when his thumb comes up to graze the gem. Clark wedges his shoe between where you stand. Mindlessly swiping over your soft buds with a gentleness you hadn't expected.

"I take it you like it?"

"I do." he follows suit, almost like it was an obvious answer. "You are."

Pretty.

You let out a shiver when he's bolder, the pressure he places bordering on pleasurable. "This feel good for you? Having them…like this." Your answer comes in the form of a whimper at his gentle tug. "M-Mhm…" He feels himself harden in his slacks at the hesitant noise you make. "Tell me to stop. If not I won't."

Clark dips his head lower, meeting your gaze. He was serious about it.

When you don't protest, his tongue flicks around the nipple he'd been teasing for the better half of a minute. Kitten licking the nub until it hardens. Your fingers reach to whatever they could find, curling around the back of his head, and the other at his shoulders.

He tenses, warm breath ghosting your chest when you card your digits through his curls. His head tips back enough, meeting your with a look that can only be described as want. Within moments, he latches around the neglected nipple. Relishing in the wanton moans you provide him. You don't seem to realise how much it spurs him on until he lifts you up onto the sink top abruptly, still suckling your tit.

"Th—that. Feels good." The reverberation of his satisfied hum against your tits has you inching your hips to the edge, grinding your covered cunt onto his cool belt buckle. Clark grabs your hip firm, sizing you with an amused look. "Filthy girl." He mutters, looking up at you with a sweet smile.

Your lips presses into a slight pout, "you're the one with your face in my t—iiits!" Clark tugs you hard and swift, flush onto him. His palm skirting beneath your skirt to drag his finger between the strings of your underwear. "Shh. I wanna see just how good having your body mutilated like that has you feel."

A huff of disbelief escapes you at the use of the harsh word, head lolled to the side when he stimulates both your nipples and pussy simultaneously. Teasing at a frustrating pace.

"D-Didn't take you for a purist." He laughs against the side of your breast, mouthing around the fat, the coldness of your piercing rolling in his tongue.

Clark pulls away from your nipple, a string of drool following it.

"I'm not."

You look at him unconvinced, only the whites of your eyes visible when his slips two thick fingers into your pussy, curling into you with a come hither motion.

"Will you get one here?"

It's hard to refocus, but when you do, you're frowning, unsure at what he means. His thumbnail scratches around your clit, and you jump. "Fuck! Clark!" You hiss, panting as he soothes it, pushing another finger into your cunt as if to replace the sting. "Sorry. Did that hurt?" He mutters, teeth tugging at your ruby barbells. Your body twitches at the oversensitivity.

"You — what's the point of asking me after the fact?" Clark smiles up at you, offering you an apology in the form of a kiss between your sternum. It pisses you off even more, seeing how perfectly pretty he looked while being a literal pain in the tit.

His wrist flexes and relaxes, digits pressing impossibly deep into your g-spot. The numbing, achy feeling creeps up onto you. "I'm close. K-Keep at that." Clark hums at that, his palm easily squeezing both your breasts, kitten licking the metal on your nipples. He feels the thrum in your pussy, smiling against the silver while you gush over his fingers.

"Seems to me that you're pretty into the pain." You don't dignify him with a response, body boneless and leaned against him. He presses kisses up your shoulder, tapping on your chin with his finger with your jaw loosely held up. "You alright?"

Your cheeks falls limp, being held up by his palm entirely. "Yeah." You take a pause. "Fuck you."

He snorts at you cussing him out. Despite everything, he has you fully leaned up against him, shimmying out of his coat to have you slipped into them instead. They're big on you, but you don't seem to care. Every nerve ending on your body heightened entirely. Somehow, he seems to know that. Clark grins, pondering around your words. He settles for a kiss at the side of your head.

"Oh I plan to. After taking you out on a date."

[theshrikeandcanary]

Did you know sharks bite to better position themselves for mating? Anyways....

Shark!soap whos got you pressed into the carpet of his bedroom, one of his cock pumping inside you while the other rubs along your clit with every thrust. His claws are digging into your hips, breath fanning over your shoulder "cmon bonnie just- fuck- hold still yeah? You can take it, I know you can-"

Youre squirming beneath him, overwhelmed by the sheer size of just one. You had agreed to try for two, but every time the tip of his second cock catched at your entrance you instinctively buck away. Soaps panting against your back, forehead pressed to your spine because of the unintentional teasing. "No, no baby hold still- shit- just let me- fuck!"

With a growl, soaps teeth are latching onto the meaty junction between shoulder and neck, jaw locking in place. Youre forced still as pain-pleasure cloud your mind, soap reaching down to push his second cock slowly into you. Hes rumbling happily as blood spills against his tongue, finally sliding home.

You feel so fucking full from just the stretch of him. Walls clenching tight as an orgasm rolls over you. Soap fucks you through it, then fucks you through two more until hes finally spilling into you. Both cocks spurting cum at the same time in an intoxicating feeling.

He nuzzles against you neck, still nestled inside you with an apologetic hum. "Sorry for bein' rough babe, couldn't fuckin' think with your cunt teasing me."

[theshrikeandcanary]

The way I just re read this entire series.

If you have any ability to read and a taste in literature I HIGHLY recommend this series. This is one of the best things you will read in your life. The multitude of details from scent to emotions transports you into the fics universe with ease.

Autumn Embers Masterlist

Omegaverse where people who are compatible have complementary scents. Pheromones aren’t everything, of course, but you’ll get more cohesive group dynamics if everyone has scents that go together. Scent blockers and diffusers are everywhere in common spaces, so it’s not like people who’s scents don’t mesh can’t be around each other. Lots of people with subtler or hard to pin down scents only go au naturel on special occasions with family and their special someone.

Read on AO3

Part 1 - Introductions

Part 2 - Work Introductions

Part 3 - Oakmoss

Part 3A - The Cake (SMUT, 18+, MDNI, NSFW)

Part 4 - Courting (Part 1)

Part 5 - Courting (Part 2)

Pre-Reader

Forming the Pack (Part 1) - John and Simon (SFW)

Forming the Pack (Part 1) [Alternate Ending] - John and Simon (18+, MDNI, NSFW)

Forming the Pack (Part 2) - John, Kyle, and Simon (SFW)

Forming the Pack (Part 3) - John, Kyle, Simon, and Soap (SFW)

Rut (And A New Interest) - Price x Gaz featuring Ghost and Soap

In the Field - Gaz and Soap go hunting

Meta

Writing about the real world in fanfiction - discussing reproductive freedom, imperialism, and the 4B movement in fanfiction

[theshrikeandcanary]

Ask yourself: what’s good about this moment right now? Is the sun out? Can you hear birds? Are you drinking coffee? Can you smell freshly cut grass? Is your bed soft and warm? These little things are oh so precious and yet seem so arbitrary.

[theshrikeandcanary]

sex that's like holding down an overly anxious rabbit at the vet so it doesn't accidentally kick you while you're giving it a shot.

[theshrikeandcanary]

Idk why but a man always wanting you on his lap is so hot

[theshrikeandcanary]

DOG MOTIF GHOST OMGGGG- you have my heart body and soul for that

i love the dynamic change between ghost and reader, the need for him to be closer without taking away from his brutal force. since this change seems to be present in johnny as well, im curious as to what caused it. did time just change their tune? is something bigger coming up? i'm very invested!!

mermay 2025

part 1 | 2

cw: mer!ghost, mer!soap, gn!reader no pronouns, ghost is a bit of a bully, affectionate mers <3

The boys have been acting… strange.

It started with Soap being clingier than usual, attached at your hip. He needed to feel you at all times.

A clawed hand wrapped around your ankle or delicately holding your hand was the new norm as he chittered to you about his day. If he was sunning himself on the pier, his fins needed to be draped across your lap, his forehead pressed against the underside of your jaw as he tried his best to cuddle up next to you. Multiple attempts to lie on top of you were made, but you could only handle so much of his weight before urging him back into the water.

They were both quite robust now after so many months of feeding them. Soap, especially, was fuller now, no doubt due to your inability to say no to him when he begged for more during feedings. A healthy layer of fat now hid his once protruding ribs.

And if Soap was being odd, Ghost was acting downright peculiar.

You were accustomed to his aloofness, didn’t hold it against him. Figured it was just part of who he was. Not to say he wasn’t expressive. An eye roll here, a murderous scowl there. He’d switch it up with the occasional puppy eyes when you fed him something particularly tasty.

More regularly, he’d bestow his ‘bored’ face on you, as you so affectionately referred to it. A disinterested, half-lidded gaze that he affixed to your person more often than not.

But where he was dismissive of you before, merely tolerant of your presence, he was quite intrigued by you now.

He was giving you that look again. Like he was seeing right through you. It didn’t matter how many times you looked away and back, his eyes never left you. Pinprick pupils giving way to liquid espresso irises. Blonde lashes fanned delicately across the top of his cheekbones as he blinked slowly at you. Hypnotic and alluring, you found yourself locked in a staring match most days. You could only equate it to hunger, something primal that you couldn’t quite place.

You remembered the first time he initiated touch. He’d been unusually close to the pier, submerging and resurfacing each time a little closer to your hanging legs. Testing you. You’d merely chuckled at him, throwing a few shrimps in his direction to reward his proximity to you.

It wasn’t until he was directly below your feet that you’d started to feel antsy. Ghost had never gotten this close before, you’d never seen his fins in such vivid detail. Fins that flared around him like a crown of thorns, before settling against his body once again. His caudal fins were coiled tightly beneath him… like Soap’s before he-

You shrieked as Ghost’s massive body hurled itself out of the water. Stupidly, you covered your eyes as if that would stop the enormous mer from hurting you. He was finally going to do it. He was going to eat you.

Your tragic thoughts fizzled out when no such pain occurred. Carefully, you removed your hands from your face, eyes meeting Ghost's own as he towered over you. His torso was settled between your open thighs, arms on either side of your body as he held himself up on the pier.

You kept your chin tucked to your chest as you crawled back on your elbows. Your wide eyes remained locked on his own, fear still coursing through you as his scowl morphed into a smug grin. A rumbling purr vibrated deep in his throat as he used his massive forearms to crawl over you. His tail swishing back and forth to aid him as he leaned down to rub his cheek to yours. Satisfied with your display of submission, he merely settled in closer to you, chirping loudly when your legs wrapped around him in welcome.

Selfishly, you cradled his cheek in the palm of your hand, delighting yourself in the feeling of his cool skin pressed to your own. You allowed his subharmonics to lull your racing heart, the adrenaline slowly leaving your body as he trilled sweetly in your ear.

And so his cautionary distance became a thing of the past. You’d grown accustomed to the feeling of his bristly fins. The black spines often brushed against the bottom of your feet as he circled your legs under the pier.

He quite enjoyed terrorizing you nowadays. Barked a laugh every time he pressed a single claw into the arch of your foot, eliciting a shriek from you while Soap clicked in amusement at your expense.

He’d rub his face against your ankle in apology, a lopsided smirk gifted to you before submerging himself in the depths to do it all over again.

He was like a spoiled dog. Toeing the line of your boundaries, domineering your space, and bullying you into submitting to him.

Not that you minded…

a/n: a whole year later… I am back! happy mermay to you all! this is part 2 and I will hopefully have part 3 up before the end of may <3 this one is sfw so the next will be nsfw and will have afab anatomy. i hope you enjoy I know it is quite short. This was meant to be all one fic but I felt it didn’t fit in with the rest of my fic… cheers!

[theshrikeandcanary]

Oh to be the lonely mechanic sentenced to live your life out in full on a multigenerational space liner. Just you and android!ghost, all other passengers in cryo. Fixing each other up as the time passes and the tech leaves him behind just as much as the years do you

[theshrikeandcanary]

gamer!Ghost x f!gamer!reader | Previous Part

Your fingers were hovering over your keyboard, the chat with Ghost open before you, but they didn’t move. What were you supposed to write? Hi? No, too boring. Hey Ghost, hope you remember me, I’m the one from the COD game a few days ago. Anyway, just wanted to say I’m such a huge fan and I love to stare at the pic of your arms and would love to sit on your face some day and… Frustrated, you smashed your hands into the keyboard, before closing your eyes and leaning back in your chair. For a few moments you staid like that, contemplating wether you should even message him. He probably was just trying to be nice. No way he would be interested in you in any way.

The sound of a new Discord message pulled you out of your thoughts and you sat up, expecting the message to be from one of your friends, asking if you wanted to play. Instead, the new message was in your currently opened chat.

G: Well, hello to you too.

Your eyes widened as they flicked up to the message above. No way you just sent the Ghost some keyboard smash mumbo jumbo.

Y: Oh jfc, I’m so sorry. Please ignore that, it wasn’t on purpose.

G: Don’t worry sweetheart, I’m glad you reached out anyway. Was waiting for a message from you.

Y: You were?

G: Yeah. I really enjoyed playing with you, wanted to ask if you wanna team up for a few rounds. I’ll probably stream in an hour or two.

Y: Yeah! Yeah, I’d love that!

G: Great! See you in an hour, love. ; )

Y: See you in an hour, Ghost. : )

Once again, you leaned back in your chair, this time, your eyes were wide open while you were trying to process the conversation you just had. After a bit, you quickly message your friend, asking if they had time to mod your chat again. You weren’t planing on streaming today after all. Thankfully, they didn’t mind, so you quickly got ready, before starting the stream a bit early. Immediately, you had more viewers than the last few weeks combined and you couldn’t help but smile, while telling your viewers what the plan for the day was. A lot of excitement broke out when you mentioned that you would be playing with Ghost and a lot of viewers were talking about having both streams open and how that was going to be amazing.

As you were starting the game, you quickly messaged your friend and asked if they were okay since there were a lot more messages than usual. Just as they responded that they were fine, an incoming call popped up on Discord and you quickly joined.

“’ello, love.” A smile spread across your lips. “Hey Ghost.” A deep chuckle rang through your headset. “How you doin’?” You hummed quietly, quickly setting up the game and making sure the stream was running smoothly. “Good, good. Nosferatu was a little gremlin today, but that’s okay. How about you?” Silence enveloped the two for a few moments, before his rough voice reached your ears. “N-Nosferatu?” You giggled, as you quickly reached your hand down and snapped a few times, waiting until you felt a wet snout against your fingers. “Yeah, my kitten.” You picked the little thing up and held her up so the camera could see her. But Ghost responded quickly. “Oh, she’s adorable. Both of you are.”

Your eyes widened and you immediately felt your cheeks heat up as you gently placed Nosferatu in your lap. “You have my stream open?” He chuckled again and couldn’t help the shiver that ran down your spine. “Of course, wouldn’t miss a look at you for anything in the world.” If, so far, the camera hadn’t picked up on your blush, it most definitely did now.

The game went well, you kept winning round after round, chatting and bantering with Ghost and just in general having fun. He kept using nicknames, keeping your cheeks dusted in a light blush throughout your stream. At some point, Ghost muted himself, said that he was getting a call. You covered him until he was back, but when he unmuted himself, he sounded grim. “Hey, I uh…I gotta go. Sorry ‘bout that.” You almost flinched at the lack of a nickname and just stuttered a response. “Oh? No, it’s uh - it’s no problem.” You barely finished your sentence when he left the game and call. Stunned, you barely even noticed when you were shot and died, quickly closing the game, before you said goodbye to your viewers and ended the stream.

You just sat there for a few minutes, Nosferatu quickly getting comfortable on your lap, while your thoughts raced in your head. Did you do something wrong? Was it his girlfriend, who wasn’t happy that he was playing with you and calling you all those nicknames? Hundreds of scenarios ran through your head as you sat there in silence, slowly stroking Nosferatu’s soft fur and sinking into despair. A despair that only worsened when you didn’t hear from Ghost for the next three weeks.

Next Part

A/N: I suck at slow burn ya'll. I was halfway through him groaning as you call him babe. Jfc what is wrong with me? Also, let me know if you want to be on the perma taglist! Just say if you want all of COD or specific characters. Although I mostly post Ghost.

@dravenskye @herefor-tojis-tits @lucienofthelakes @tessakate @kakashipandadog @diseasedclitoris @terrormonster55 @solemnlyswearss @sleepisfortheweakpooh @little-mini-me-world @sakunawifey @cap-attheedgeoftheabyss @666spaghetti-ohno @jerru-chan

[theshrikeandcanary]

ghoap x you dynamic where you and soap were a thing first. he's like a puppy, very energetic, very loving. you hate his friend though. that big, brooding guy in a mask. like everything he has to say just further confirms your suspicion that he has wilted roses for brains.

anyway for some godforsaken reason your boyfriend loves him. so you figure sure why not let's have a threesome. riding soap while ghost fucks him. he's having the best time of his life but the two of you CANNOT stop arguing for the love of god.

the two of you are only doing it for his pleasure. abhorrent you may find it, but it does turn into a throuple. more like, vying for soap's attention, though. ghost gets pissed when johnny says it's more fun to suck on your tiddies. you get pissed when johnny says ghost's cock is better than your strap on. both of you get irate when johnny says it'd be hot to see the two of you fuck. because you know you gotta do it now.

[theshrikeandcanary]

➯ wip saturday

thank you @ananonymousaffair for tagging me 🥹💙

⤷ avowal [modern!din djarin x reader]

"They're putting on a concert next week." Din's voice broke whatever trance you had found yourself in. You looked up and smiled, your hip leaned on the counter as you watched him cook.

"Oh shit, really? You're gonna go see them, right? It'd be criminal if you didn't," you chuckled. "I mean, hell, you have a CD of theirs in the age of streaming." Din had a variety of CDs, cassettes, and vinyls scattered through his apartment. While part of it was his disinterest in the modern music industry, he had opened you up to the world of how different each medium sounded. Some of the best music you had listened to was in the four walls of his apartment.

"I am," Din nodded before he glanced to you. "Will you come with me? I got an extra ticket and I figured we could make a night of it." Your heart pounded in your chest. Was this a friendly gesture, or was he asking you out on a date?

⤷ old dogs, new tricks [satc!au - joel miller x reader]

"Dinner's almost ready, darlin'. You at a good stoppin' point?" Joel's voice pulled you away from the article you were writing. With a soft sigh, you saved the document before you closed the laptop.

"I'll be there in a second," you called back.

You leaned forward to look out of the window, the view a dazzling sweep of the city skyline that you had grown fond of. Before you found Joel, the only way to see such a sight was from your boss's office, which was never a pleasant experience. Now, you had your own workspace in your lover's apartment.

After a beat to admire the sight, you found yourself in the kitchen. Joel was busy plating the steaks he had grilled on the stove. He looked good, you thought as you admired him from the island stool. His hair was slicked back from the shower he had taken, the ends curled at his neck as they slowly dried.

my current wips :) no one is surprised by the bouncer!din wip, i think. i'm working on that, as well as my sex and the city series. hopefully i should drop the first part soon!!! tags: if you see this, this is me tagging you! please join in if you'd like :)

[theshrikeandcanary]

Kyle and Johnny noticed you as you rolled the bar into place for hip thrusts. They were working on arms today. Sometimes their gym time with you would overlap. The three of you were on the smiling and nodding level.

When they could the couple left their apartment and used a local gym as opposed to the one on base. This one had better amenities and less lunk-heads trying to one up them because they were SAS. The being gay didn't help the matters.

Today they were in for a treat.

A man stepped up behind you mid-set. You paid him no mind.

Johnny and Kyle clocked it. They were done with their set and both sipping on their respective drinks. Eye contact confirmed the other had seen and were ready to intervene.

"Why are you practicing with so much weight?"

Without breaking your concentration you reply, bodying the man.

"I use this much weight so when your girlfriend rides my strap she knows what a real man can do."

Kyle did an Oscar worthy spit-take. Johnny, by contrast, choked on his drink. Kyle slapped his boyfriend on the back a few times.

The man who you had insulted so effortlessly sputtered and walked away when you didn't pause after your set of five like you normally would.

When Johnny could breathe again he and Kyle scooted closer. Silently counting the plates his eyes shot up and up and up.

"Damn. Do you need a friend?" Kyle made eye contact with you in the mirror as you rest the weights on the mat.

"Or some boyfriends who ride strap?" Johnny piped up.

Kyle slapped his shoulder, glaring.

You sputtered a laugh.

"How about a coffee date and we can see where things go from there?" You smile up at them.

"Hell yeah," Johnny grins down you.

"Free after this?" Kyle smirks.

After a glance up and down them in the mirror you agree.

Making two new gym friends is always a treat.

John Gym Adventures

[theshrikeandcanary]

omg this is so bitter sweet :')

based on this, in which reader gets herself a pet. human reader x fae poly 141

Masterlist

It arrived on the windless night of a blood moon, when the palace gardens groaned beneath the weight of twilight and the fae refused to speak its name.

Hooves like thunder cracked through the sacred grove- guards scattered, maids screamed, and even the birds took flight. A monster, they had called it. An omen. A curse carved in flesh and antler.

It stood twice the height of a man, its coat the color of grave-ash and bone. Its antlers, sprawling, twisted branches, curved like cruel iron and dripped with a red too thick to be dew. And its eyes- gods, its eyes. Hollow pits of starlight and sorrow, as if someone had scooped the soul clean out of it and left only the husk of judgment behind.

A nightmare. A spirit of the dying woods.

And you- of course, you- had followed the trail of unease and found it standing alone in the frostbitten clearing, still as stone.

Simon was the first of them to find you. The maids had burst into his chamber in a flurry of panic, dresses half-tied, hair undone. “She’s in the gardens- with it!” one had shrieked. And though he would later claim it was the sense of duty that dragged him down the hall and into the trees, it was something more base that curled in his gut.

Fear.

He had thought it might be too late.

But there you were, soft and quiet and terribly unafraid.

The creature loomed before you, its head dipped low, antlers mere inches from your throat- and your hand… your hand was stroking its snout like it was nothing more than a skittish hound.

“There now,” you whispered, thumb rubbing a slow circle just below its glowing eye sockets. “You’re alright. You’re not so scary, are you, sweetheart?”

Simon’s body went taut, every muscle locked as he stepped from the trees, blade drawn, breath like winter in his lungs.

“Step. Back.” he’d have barked- only he didn’t; the words curled up and died in his throat.

Because the stag didn’t move.

Didn’t growl.

Didn’t even blink.

It merely stood there, regal and terrible, allowing you to fuss over it like you were some holy creature instead of a too-small, too-human queen with a ribbon loose in your hair and your gowns flowing freely.

And your voice- gods, your voice- was the softest he’d heard in months. Not the clipped elegance of the court-mask you wore, not the sharp-tongued wit you wielded to hold your place among serpents and silver smiles.

Just you.

Calling the monster a good boy.

The bestest boy.

After that, it never truly left.

The court howled. Lords and ladies twisted their pretty lips into horror, whispering stories of famine and madness wherever a Hollow Stag appeared. It had been centuries since one last walked beside fae- or anyone. But this one did.

It followed you, and you named it Thrain, and Simon wanted to curse you for you did not know that by naming such a terrible thing, you had allowed it close.

He huffed at the guards, growled at the courtiers, and once kicked a sconce clean off the wall when Johnny whistled at you from across the hall.

He tolerated your husbands, but only just.

Simon couldn’t look at it without remembering your hand brushing over death’s brow like it was silk. Kyle swore the thing glared at him every time he touched your elbow. Johnny made jokes, tried to offer it dried fruit, only to have Thrain snort directly in his face and blow his mohawk-braid loose.

But never you.

Never once did it bare its fangs to you.

Thrain was silent at your side, looming like a second shadow in the throne room, ever behind your chair, because no one had the courage or audacity to say it shouldn’t be allowed inside. When you took solitary picnics- because even with jewels and titles and sharpened fae smiles, you were still lonely- he followed.

You’d sit beneath the weeping trees, skirts spread across the moss, fingers tangled in the vines as your voice hummed old, human songs, and he’d curl his massive body around you. His head, crown of dripping antlers and all, would lower into your lap. You’d scratch behind his ears, resting your cheek against the dry velvet of his muzzle like he wasn’t made of nightmare and ruin.

Sometimes you’d whisper to him.

Your secrets.

Your weariness.

The truth you wouldn’t dare breathe to your husbands.

Because even now- even with John’s gaze growing hungrier by the day, even with Kyle’s hand brushing yours too long beneath shared parchments, even with Simon’s brooding presence lurking protectively near and Johnny’s restless, nervous laughter softening when you were tired-

You didn’t know if they loved you.

The human you; the one who had no glamour in her blood, no ancient fire in her bones.

But Thrain did.

And sometimes, that was enough.

[theshrikeandcanary]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 48: Wild Times

Summary: Things begin changing between you and your pack as someone says goodbye.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 6,518 words

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, explicit sexual content, smut, anal sex, oral sex, handjobs, cockwarming, teasing, lots of kissing, language, slight dom/sub dynamics, alpha/beta/omega dynamics, alternate universe, emotions, slight angst

A/N: I wrote this in like two days so forgive me if it sucks

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

“How do you feel?”

“Good. I feel really good.” You say honestly.

“Good. You’ve come a long way and I’m very proud of you for the progress you’ve made.” Dr. Keller says. The two of you are sitting out on the back porch. It’s a nice day, the sun out after a few days of rain and clouds.

“Why do I feel like you’re about to tell me something.” You say, staring at her. She almost looks nervous, the professional facade cracking just a little bit. Just enough that you can tell something is going on.

“I do have something I need to tell you.” She says after a moment. “You’ve come a long way, you’ve overcome hurdles and grown so much in the time that I’ve known you. I’m so very proud of you, but...I’m not sure how much more I can do for you now.”

You expected this was coming. With your life turning around as it has recently, with the growth between you and your pack and your healing after the ordeal, you knew there would come a time when Dr. Keller would leave. There’s no point to her staying here with you, now that Shepherd is gone and things have calmed down.

“Things are going to change here soon,” she continues. “And I’m not sure how much more you’re going to need me for. You’re doing so well and your pack has improved so much over these last few weeks. I’m so very proud of all of you and the work you’ve put in. I think you’re ready to graduate from needing an omega specialist.”

You try to fight the tears gathering in your eyes. You don’t want her to go. As much as you understand and you know, you don’t feel like letting her go yet. You’d cling to her forever if you could, but you know that’s all the more reason for her to go now. She’s done more than she should have, more than she needed to and no doubt she’s feeling that need to move on as well. It makes your stomach ache, but at the same time, you understand.

“I don’t feel like I am,” you say honestly. “But at the same time I know it’s not fair to keep you here. You’ve done so much for us, for me, and...and I want you to know that I’m forever grateful for that.”

“I know.” She says, giving you a smile. Despite it there’s a sadness in her eyes. She has to be torn about this too. The two of you have bonded so much in the year that you’ve been seeing her. It hurts breaking that bond, but at the same time, it’s a necessity. “I’ll always be here for you, but I have to move on to other things.”

“Where are you going to go?” You ask, trying not to cry. You’ve never been good at goodbyes. It’s probably the trauma.

“I’ve accepted a position in Exeter at a clinic.” She says.

“Exeter as in close to Ashley?” You give her a knowing look.

That bashful look crosses her face again, and for the first time she breaks eye contact, looking down at her lap.

“I’m happy for you,” you continue. “I really am. Technically if the two of you get together you’ll be extended family.”

She huffs out a laugh, shaking her head. “You’re not wrong.” She looks back up at you, smiling softly. “You’re taking this better than I expected.”

“I knew it was coming, in a way.” You say. “It would happen eventually. Things really are changing and now that Shepherd’s gone...there’s nothing holding us here. We’ll have to return to the real world eventually. As much as I’d like to be selfish, I know there’s other omegas out there that deserve to have your help.”

She reaches out, taking your hand and squeezing it softly. “You’ve always been so sweet, so caring. I’m honored I got to serve as your omega specialist. I am so very proud of you and I always will be.” She squeezes your hand harder. “You have my number. You need anything you call me, okay?”

You nod, tears blurring your vision despite your fight to hold them back. “Yeah. I will.”

“Good.” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes, tears welling in hers as well.

You reach over, pulling her into a hug. It probably breaks some sort of doctor/patient boundary, but after everything the two of you have been through, you’re willing to break past that realm of professionalism.

You breathe in her comforting scent one last time, burying it in your memories. You’ll always remember her and what she did for you, the ways she helped you overcome the lies drilled into your head, how she helped you grow into your own person. She kept you alive, helped you heal from a traumatic event. She kept you sane, helped you realize just how powerful you truly are and that you shouldn’t be afraid of your pack and taking charge.

You’ll be forever grateful for having her in your life.

“Take care of each other.” Dr. Keller says, standing next to the car. “I don’t want to get any calls with bad news.”

“We’ll do our best.” John says, his arm around your waist.

She looks over your pack before nodding. “Some part of me doesn’t want to believe you, but a bigger part of me knows you’re telling the truth.”

“Thank you for everything you’ve done.” John says, his grip around you tight. “We are forever in your debt.”

Dr. Keller smiles, it’s a sad smile, but it’s a smile nonetheless. “I was just doing my job.”

“You did more than that.” Kyle says. “Far more.”

Dr. Keller stands there for a moment before nodding. “I suppose so. I wouldn’t take any of it back, though.” She looks over you once more, her eyes pausing in you for a long moment.

“We’ll take good care of her.” John says, his arm sliding from your waist to wrap around your shoulder. “If not, we give you full rights to come back and take her from us.”

Dr. Keller gives him a pointed look. “I’ll hold you to that.” She opens the car door, letting out a heavy breath. “You have my number. Don’t hesitate to call. Good luck to you and whatever is coming next.”

“Best of luck to you as well.” John nods.

“Say hi to Ashley for me.” Kyle grins.

Dr. Keller rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I know.” She gives you one last smile. “Take care. I’ll be here if you need me.”

You watch as she gets into the car, John’s grip around you tightening just a little. Tears start to blur your eyes as you watch the car disappear down the road until it’s out of sight. Two goodbyes in such a short amount of time has you feeling devastated, but at the same time, you know it’s for the best. It’s not like it’s forever. You’ll likely see both Dr. Keller and your family again in the future.

Yet you can’t deny the ache in your chest at watching them go.

John kisses the top of your head, his hands squeezing your arms. “You alright?” He murmurs against your hair.

You stand there for a moment, staring down the road before you nod. “Yeah. I will be.”

“How are you holding up?”

“Fine.” You shrug, marking your place in your book.

“It’s a big change.”

“I knew it was coming.” You shrug again, setting your book on your nightstand.

Kyle sinks down onto your bed, laying himself down against your pillows. “It’s okay to not be okay about this.”

You let out a sigh. “I mean, it’s sad that she left, but at the same time I’m happy she’s getting to go do what she wants now and is getting to help other omegas that need it. They’ll be lucky to have her. Ashley is lucky to have her.”

“They are a good couple.” Kyle says, reaching for your hand.

“Big power couple vibes.” You say, lacing your fingers with his. “I’m glad Ashley is part of the family. Your sister is an absolute angel.”

Kyle snorts. “You should have seen her growing up.”

“Everyone was a terror growing up.” You say, letting him pull you closer.

“Imagine Johnny as a kid.”

You both make a face, imagining the high-strung beta as a pup.

“No thanks.” You say, resting your head against his chest.

“You sure you’re alright?” He asks, wrapping an arm around you.

“Yeah. I will be.” You say. “It’ll take some getting used to, not having a personal therapist in the house.”

“We can get you a new one.” He says, patting your back.

“I think I’ll be okay.” You reach up, cupping his cheek. “You’re so sweet, caring about me like this.”

“Well, Christine has been a big part of your life for the last year.” He shrugs. “Just making sure you’re gonna be okay once she’s gone.”

“I’ll be fine. Just get ready to hear about my problems a lot more than you have been.” You grin.

“Oh good.” He playfully rolls his eyes.

“Rude.” You giggle, squeezing his side to tickle him.

“Hey!” He shouts, wiggling to try and get away from your hands.

Despite his size advantage you pull up a hazy memory of your training with Simon, wrapping a leg around his waist to force him over onto his back. You wind up sitting on top of him, your fingers dragging along his stomach to continue tickling him. He continues to laugh, playfully batting at your hands.

You wrap your fingers around his wrists, pinning them to the bed by his head. You lean over him, staring down at him as you pin him to the bed. He could easily get out of this, use his weight against you to force you up but he doesn’t, instead laying there limp under you.

“I quite like this angle.” He says, his eyes hooded as he stares up at you.

You smirk, leaning closer to him. “I’m sure you do.”

His arms flex under your hands, a reminder that he could easily flip the script and put you in this position. He doesn’t though, almost too happy to be pinned to the bed under you.

You lean down even further, your breath mingling with his. He tilts his head up, trying to kiss you but you hold back, not letting him have the satisfaction. His bottom lip puckers in a pout as you deny him what he wants.

“Been a long time.” He murmurs, pushing against your hands.

“For you maybe.” You say, but you can’t deny the warmth starting to pool in your stomach. It hasn’t been long for you, but it’s been a long while since you’ve been with the other members of your pack. You miss them. You miss all of them.

“Don’t mean to interrupt.”

Your head snaps to the side, looking back towards the door at the new voice. Simon stands there, leaning against the door frame, arms crossed. His brows are raised, eyes trailing over you and Kyle.

He stays there for a moment before pushing off the frame, his steps slow as he approaches the bed. Neither you nor Kyle move, frozen there as the alpha stalks towards you. He looks like a hungry animal that’s caught its prey right where he wants it.

His hand is warm as it drags down your back, fingers pausing just above your tailbone. His other hand cups Kyle’s chin, fingers holding his jaw. “Pretty in’t he?” Simon mumbles, brushing his thumb across Kyle’s lips before pressing it between them.

Kyle parts his lips, taking Simon’s thumb into his mouth. You watch as he sucks on the appendage, still pinning him down on the bed. Simon’s hand slips beneath your pants, cupping your ass over your underwear as he leans in closer to you.

“What were you planning?” He murmurs into your ear, lips brushing the delicate skin. “A quickie before lunch? Like a couple of naughty pups?”

“Maybe.” You say, pushing back against his hand.

“Maybe?” He smirks. “Should have locked the door then.”

His teeth sink into your earlobe gently, and you can’t stop the shiver that runs down your spine. He pulls his thumb from Kyle’s mouth, trailing it down over his chin and his throat. His other hand sinks lower, fingers pressing between your legs.

“She likes this, you know?” He says to Kyle, feeling the dampness in your underwear. “Pretending to be dominant.” His hand closes around Kyle’s throat, fingers flexing just a little. “Then again, so do you.”

He pulls Kyle up to sit, forcing you to drop back into his lap. He’s hard, pressing between your thighs as you’re pushed up against his chest. Simon’s hand slips around to the back of Kyle’s neck, holding him in place.

“Just a couple of pretty pups playing pretend.” Simon says, glancing between you before leaning in to Kyle.

Your lips part as they kiss, Simon’s tongue sliding into Kyle’s mouth. Kyle moans, the sound vibrating through you. It’s a beautiful sight, watching them kiss. You hadn’t put much thought into them together before, even though you know it has happened in the past. They always seem to gravitate towards their respective mates naturally. The ideas floating around in your head have you gushing into your panties.

You let out a little whine of your own, hips pressing down against Simon’s fingers still resting between your legs. You’re getting wetter and wetter as you watch them kiss, Simon devouring Kyle’s mouth, all tongue and teeth as he teases the beta.

The sight has you clenching your thighs around Kyle’s hips, more slick gushing into your panties and wetting Simon’s fingers.

Simon hums against Kyle’s lips, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip before pulling back just slightly. “I think she likes it.”

Kyle groans, pushing his hips up against you. Simon presses his hand down, grinding it against the bulge in Kyle’s pants.

“I think you both like it.” Simon pushes Kyle’s head closer to yours and you get the memo, closing the distance to kiss him.

Simon lets out a breath as he watches the two of you kiss, his fingers stroking you through your panties. His scent is strong in the air, mixing with the scent of arousal wafting off of you and Kyle.

“Look at you.” he murmurs. “The two prettiest members of the pack together. What a sight.”

Kyle’s tongue flicks against your own, mimicking what you know he’s capable of doing to your pussy. You can’t stop the moan that sneaks out, Kyle swallowing the sound as he kisses you.

Simon hums before pulling his hand from your pants, wrapping that arm around your waist before lifting you off of Kyle. You let out a loud whine in protest as you’re pulled apart, struggling against him but he’s stronger than you. Kyle catches himself before he drops backwards as Simon lets him go, lifting you to your feet as he rises to his.

“Time for lunch.” He says, still holding you as you struggle against him.

“No fair!” You whine, going dead weight against him to try and slip out of his hold.

He chuckles, still holding you up easily. “Be a good girl and I’ll let you sit on his face later.”

You pause, thinking it over for a moment before pushing yourself up to stand straight. “Okay.” You slip out of his grasp, heading for the door and out into the living room.

Both John and Johnny look up as you come out of the room, no doubt the scent of your arousal strong in the air. There’s probably a cocktail of scents wafting through the door: yours, Kyle’s, and Simon’s.

Johnny sets down the bag of chips in his hand before bee-lining to you, nearly colliding with your body as he frantically presses his face into your neck.

“Fuckin’ Christ.” He groans, his hands dropping to hold your ass as he keeps you pressed against his chest.

Your body flushes as his tongue laves over your skin, licking up every drop of scent he can from your gland. A quiet sound leaves your lips as he sinks his teeth into your skin, almost like he’s trying to drink the scent of your arousal directly.

It’s almost too much after the stimulation you just received from Simon and Kyle. You could cum in your pants just like this, with Johnny’s hands gripping your ass, his boner poking you in the hip. He’ll probably cum in his pants if he keeps this up.

Johnny lets out a groan as a hand wraps around the back of his neck, pulling him away from you. You stumble as he tries to pull you, but his hands release your ass before you can fall. John holds him back, leaning over his shoulder as he scruffs the beta.

“None of that.” He chastises Johnny. “We have lunch to eat.”

“Fuck sandwiches,” Johnny groans. “Lay her out on tha table. Let me feast.”

“We spent all this time making a nice lunch and we’re going to eat it.” John says, releasing Johnny. “Now take a seat.” He pushes Johnny towards the table with a slap to his ass.

Johnny grumbles but acquiesces, making his way to his seat at the table.

John steps up to you, staring down at you intensely. Despite his insistence on the moment ending, you glimpsed the small bulge in his pants. You’re tempted to touch it, drag your hand across the denim to tease him, but you’re caught in his gaze. His hand lifts to your face, thumb tracing over your lips. You part them slightly, but he pulls away, crossing his arms as he stares down at you.

“Can you behave?” He asks.

No. You wouldn’t mind being spread out on the table for them to enjoy. But you know that’s not the answer he’s looking for. “Yes.” You nod.

“Good.” He turns you towards the table, sending you to your seat with a pat on the ass.

He turns to Simon and Kyle, both of them moving to their seats wordlessly.

Lunch is filled with a tense silence. You’re glad Dr. Keller has left with the way all five of your scents are thick in the air. It’s heavy with arousal, no doubt all four men sporting hard-ons under the table. The thought of sliding under there to suck them off one by one is tempting, but you’ll get in trouble. Not that punishment wouldn’t be worth it, but you’ll be good today.

At least for now.

Simon makes good on his promise.

Kyle’s lips are wrapped around your clit, suckling on the sensitive bud as you grind down against his face, hands braced on his chest. Simon has him nearly folded in half, tongue wrapped around yours as he snaps his hips against Kyle’s ass.

“Fucking hell.” Simon groans, sinking his teeth into your bottom lip as he thrusts hard into Kyle. Kyle moans against your clit, making your legs squeeze tighter around his head. “Make her cum and I’ll let you.” Simon grunts, his hand wrapped around the base of Kyle’s cock.

Kyle swirls his tongue around your clit before taking it between his lips again, sucking it hard. You’re already close from how long you’ve been here, perched over his face. He’s close too, hard and almost pulsing in Simon’s hand. Simon hasn’t let up once, fucking into him hard and fast. There’s sweat beaded across all of your bodies, sliding down your faces, dripping onto skin.

God it’s been so long.

“C’mon.” Simon grunts, holding himself back as well.

“Fuck,” You whine, legs shaking around Kyle’s head as he sucks hard on your clit, nipping at the sensitive bud with his teeth. You grind down against his mouth, his tongue swirling around your clit before he sucks on it one last time.

You cum, gushing all over his face with a cry.

Kyle moans against your pussy, licking up every drop of your juices as your nails sink into his chest.

“Good boy.” Simon praises, finally releasing Kyle’s cock. He lifts Kyle’s hips, changing the angle at which he’s thrusting into the beta. “Cum for me.”

Kyle’s body trembles, his hands tightening around your thighs as he gets closer and closer to the edge. You lean over, reaching down to grip his cock in your hand. He groans louder, twitching in your hand as you pump his cock in time with Simon’s thrusts.

It doesn’t take him long to cum, spurting against your hand and his stomach as he moans so beautifully. Simon curses, hands tightening around Kyle’s hips before he cums as well, spilling into Kyle’s ass.

You gather his cum on your fingers, sitting up on Kyle’s chest before bringing your fingers to your lips. You hold eye contact with Simon as you take them into your mouth, cleaning Kyle’s cum off your skin. Simon’s eyes are dark as he watches you, following the path of your tongue as it licks the viscous liquid off your hand.

His hand sinks into your hair, pulling you close to his mouth before kissing you. His tongue pushes into your mouth, licking at the remnants of Kyle’s cum on your tongue. You moan into his mouth, pressing closer to him. He kisses you for a moment before pulling away, pushing you over to the side.

You roll unceremoniously to the side, watching Simon lean over Kyle. His face is still shiny with your juices, Simon’s tongue darting out to lick a stripe from his chin to his lips. Your lips part as you watch Simon clean your slick off of Kyle’s face, Kyle panting into the kisses. Warmth starts to pool in your stomach again as you watch them, lips parting slightly. They make such a pretty couple, Simon’s rough hands and Kyle’s malleable nature.

“Think she’s feeling left out.” Simon murmurs against Kyle’s lips.

Kyle turns his head, Simon kissing down his throat. He reaches out, wrapping an arm around you before pulling you closer. You wind up snuggled against his side, immediately leaning in for a kiss. Kyle kisses you, a hint of your own taste still on his tongue, along with a hint of Simon. It’s an intoxicating cocktail, almost as intoxicating as the scents in the air.

Oh god how you’ve missed this.

Simon watches the two of you for a moment before getting up, Kyle moaning as he slips out of his ass. Kyle’s arms wrap around you, pulling you tight against his chest as he continues to kiss you.

Simon returns with a rag, wiping down Kyle and between your legs before disappearing back into the bathroom for a moment. Kyle rolls to his side, pulling away from your lips as he slips an arm beneath your head. He stares at you, his eyes roving over your face for a moment.

“Hi.” He breathes, a small smile pulling at his lips.

You can’t help but grin back. “Hi. Feeling better now?”

He hums, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “Much better. Missed you so much.”

“Me or my pussy?” You smirk.

Kyle pretends to think for a moment. “Both. Definitely both.”

“I’ll try not to keep you waiting so long next time.” You say, resting your head against his bicep.

“Blue-balled us all.” Simon says, coming around the other side of the bed. He lays down behind you, tossing the sheet over your bodies.

“Sorry,” You hum, getting comfortable between them.

“Working backwards this time.” Kyle says, draping his arm across you to reach Simon. “Poor John has to be last.”

“He’ll be fine.” Simon grunts. “Johnny’s probably got his dick down his throat right now.”

You let out a noise at the mental image that flashes through your head. Johnny on his knees, that needy look in his eyes, face flushed as his mouth spreads wide around John’s cock.

Simon chuckles darkly, his hand resting on your hip at your shift in scent. “Like that, do you?”

“Can’t help it.” You murmur, rubbing your legs together. “He’s just so...fun to play with.”

“He’s our favorite toy.” Simon says.

A thought crosses your mind. Johnny on his knees in front of the three of them, taking turns as he goes down the line.

You lick your lips. “Have you ever…”

“Course.” Simon grunts. “Lots of times.”

“Oh.” You blink, staring at Kyle’s chest as you think it over. Of course they’ve all been together at the same time. Why wouldn’t they? “Would...would you ever...with me?”

Kyle hums. “If you wanted to. It’s a lot all at once though.”

“Think I can’t handle it?” You say, your omega starting to stir, though you’re not sure if it’s the idea of being surrounded by them or the insinuation against your strength and stamina.

Kyle shrugs. “I don’t know. Do you think you could?”

Could you? You’ve never really thought about it that hard before. Sure the fantasy has been there, but the reality? The admin behind making it work…

“Don’t know.” You say, curling in on yourself. “Never been in an orgy before.”

“You’d never had sex before you joined our pack.” Simon reminds you.

“Now look at me.” You say, rolling onto your back, tits out above the blanket. “You’ve properly corrupted me.”

Simon growls low in his chest, his hand sneaking under the blanket to rest right below your breasts. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?” you tease. “You destroyed my innocence? Corrupted me into a needy little omega desperate for alpha cock?”

You can feel his cock start to stir again against your hip as his hand slides up, fingers closing around your nipple and tugging.

“Careful,” he warns you. “You’re getting yourself all worked up again.”

You sink your teeth into your lip, fluttering your eyelashes at him. “What are you going to do about it?”

He grunts, laying there for a moment before he slips his hand under your shoulder, turning you over onto your side against Kyle’s chest. “Stay.” He commands before moving behind you, the bed dipping as he rolls.

Kyle watches him over the top of your head, and you hear the snap of a lid. A few seconds pass before Simon rolls back over, shoving the blanket down before two wet fingers prod at your pussy. Kyle lifts your leg up as Simon slips them into you, pumping them a couple times to lube your walls before pulling his hand free. You lay there as he saddles up right against your back, the head of his cock pressing against your hole.

You gasp as he pushes in, the lube aiding as he presses his hips until they’re flush with your ass. He stills there, his cock seated inside your pussy.

“Keep that in there all night and I’ll put your knees up by your ears tomorrow.” He grunts before settling behind you.

“Well how am I supposed to sleep now?” You whine, clenching around his cock.

“Figure it out.” He murmurs, his breath fanning the top of your head.

“Fuckin’ still at it.”

“They’re young.”

“Christ almighty.” Johnny groans, shifting in his seat. “Feel sorry for the poor hen.”

“Why?” John snorts. “Sounds like she’s enjoying herself quite a bit.”

A loud, keening moan sounds through the wall, paired with a rough slam of the headboard.

“Gonnae put a hole in the wall.” Johnny grumbles, sipping his coffee.

“We can fix that easily.” John says, taking a bite of his toast. “Surprised Simon didn’t make several during her heat.”

Johnny huffs. “Thought he did a few times.”

Another long, drawn out moan sounds, an echoing deeper one following.

“There she goes.” John says, the house falling silent.

“Think it’s over?” Johnny asks.

John nods. “Most likely. I doubt they’d push it much further so early.”

“For our sakes I hope yer right.” Johnny grumbles.

A few moments later the door opens, a proud looking Kyle making his way out of the room. The scent of musk, sweat, and sex follows him reaching their noses quickly. Johnny lets out a quiet sound, nearly a whine at the rich scent.

“Screamin’ fuckin’ Jesus.” Johnny groans. “Did ye kill her?”

“She’s fine. Be out as soon as her legs stop shaking.” Kyle smirks.

Johnny spouts out a curse none of them quite understand as Kyle makes his way to the kettle for some tea.

“What’s for breakfast?” Simon asks, appearing through the half open door to your room. He’s bare chested and looking quite proud of himself.

“Oh yeah, ye come out here peacockin’ expecting a Full English laid out?” Johnny snaps.

Simon smirks. “What, pouting because you didn’t get to join in?”

“Woulda been easier if I didnae have tae listen to it!” Johnny fumes.

“You could have stayed upstairs.” Simon smirks, approaching his fired up beta. “I think you’re just upset you got left out.” Simon cards his fingers through Johnny’s hair. It’s getting long, his fingers sinking into it easily. He grips it, tilting Johnny’s head back slightly so they’re looking each other in the eye. “Be a good boy and maybe next time I’ll let you in.”

Johnny nearly turns to goo in his seat, deflating instantly. He can’t be mad, not with Simon’s dominant side coming out. He can only imagine what he did to you in such a state. No wonder you have yet to be seen.

“Every man for himself this morning for breakfast.” John says, breaking the tense energy of the moment. As much as he’d enjoy watching Johnny get bent over the table, Simon has likely exerted himself enough for the time being. The last thing they need is an injury.

Simon smirks before releasing Johnny, the Scot sinking down into his chair as soon as he’s free. Kyle makes his way to the table, sitting down next to John gingerly.

“Not ye too.” Johnny says, staring at Kyle with hooded eyes.

Kyle smirks, saying nothing as he takes a sip of his tea.

Simon starts on some eggs, the smell starting to waft through the house.

The door creaks quietly as it opens, all of their gazes drawn across the room. You appear out of the darkness, hair mussed, bruises on your neck visible thanks to the loose fitting shirt you’ve donned (likely Simon’s), walking with a noticeable limp.

“Morning sweetheart.” John says, taking a sip of his tea as he watches you slowly make your way to the table. “Have a good night?”

“Mhm.” You hum, lowering yourself slowly into a chair. “Great night.”

“Sounded like it.” Johnny mumbles.

“Did you have a good night?” You ask, voice airy.

“We did.” John says, hiding a smirk behind his mug.

“Good.” You smile, leaning your head on your arm.

��What kind of magic did ye work Simon?” Johnny asks, staring at your blissed out face.

“Just gave her what she wanted.” Simon shrugs, plating the eggs. He carries two plates over to the table, setting one in front of you. “Folded her in half and fucked her till she cried.”

Johnny curses, shifting in his seat again as Simon takes his seat next to him.

“It was quite the sight.” Kyle grins.

“I bet.” John says.

“You can fuck me next if you’d like.” You say, spooning some eggs into your mouth.

He smiles. “You’re sweet to offer, but I think you need a break for a bit.”

“Wha’ about me?” Johnny whines.

You turn your gaze to him. “I’d rather watch you get dicked down.”

“Oh shit.” Kyle breathes, looking between you and his fellow beta.

Johnny lets out a moan at your words, his body shuddering.

“Did you just cum in your pants?” Simon asks, looking down at his beta.

“No…” Johnny flushes, looking bashful.

“’S alright. Happens to the best of us.” You say, taking another bite of your eggs nonchalantly, like you didn’t just make a grown man cum untouched in his pants like a teenager.

“Fucking hell what’s gotten into us?” Kyle asks, looking around the table.

“It’s been far too long since we’ve gotten a chance to be so free with each other.” John says. “Between what happened and then for Christine’s sake, we held ourselves back. Now we have the space and the desire to do as we wish.”

“Be nice while it lasts.” You say, mumbling around your eggs.

“What do you mean?” Kyle asks.

You shrug, eyes down on your plate. “Have to go back eventually, right?”

The table falls silent at the sudden drop in energy, all of them sharing looks but none of them brave enough to say anything.

“I still don’t get it.”

“It’s not that hard once you get the hang of it.”

“But you have to get the hang of it first.” You say, staring hard at the chess board.

“You’ll get it eventually.” Simon says, moving his piece.

“You just won again, didn’t you?” You groan.

“I did.”

You shake your head. “It’s not fair. I still don’t know what I’m doing. Can we go back to playing checkers?”

“You lost at that too.”

“But at least I know how to play.” You say.

“Still beating you?” John asks appearing in front of the fireplace.

“Yes.” You pout.

“We’ll find a game your good at.” Kyle says. “Then we’ll let you beat us.”

“Hey!” You say, lifting yourself off the floor to sit on the couch. “That’s not fair!”

“Better than you losing all the time.” Kyle says, sitting down across from you.

Johnny takes the seat next to you as Simon lifts himself onto the couch next to Kyle. John stands before you, and you can already tell you’re in a pack meeting just from the look on his face. He’s wearing that mask again, the mask of the Captain, the Head Alpha, the Leader.

“I’ve called you all here for a very important announcement.” He says, holding a folder in his hands. You hadn’t noticed it before.

The four of you sit there quietly, waiting with bated breath for what he’s going to say next.

“Our time here is ending.” John continues. “Now that the winter season has passed, and the threat against us has been eliminated, we have to move on to what comes next. I’ve spent a lot of time over the last few weeks thinking about what’s going to happen next, about what direction our lives are going to go. The easiest option is of course going back to the way things were before, going back to the military, living out our lives as we always planned.”

His gaze drops to you. You’re avoiding looking at him, instead focused hard on the checkers box still on the coffee table. You’re waiting for the shoe to drop, for him to say that is what you’re going back to. You’ll be a military pack, you’ll be a military wife, watching them go and waiting for them to go home. Maybe he’ll be nice and let you live off base, or at least in better housing outside of the barracks. Maybe he’ll bring you back here every so often so you can enjoy the sea.

“But…”

That word piques your interest. ‘But’ means something is following, usually something contradictory. Something opposite of what was just said. Your mother used to say “if you follow a statement with the word ‘but’, you don’t mean what you said at all.” You try not to have hope. You try not to think too hard on that ‘but.’

“That’s not entirely fair to all of us.” He continues, still looking at you. “I made a promise that things would change, and I’ve broken that promise over and over again. So I’ve taken it upon myself to make sure things do change.” He takes a step closer to you.

The folder appears in your line of sight. He’s holding it out to you. Your hand shakes as you lift it, closing your fingers around the thick paper. He relinquishes his hold on it, dropping his hand as soon as you have a grip on it. He takes a step back, all of them watching you as you hold the folder.

The plastic clip catches on your finger but you ignore it as you flip them open, reaching in to grab the stack of papers. It’s a thick stack, the papers shaking just slightly as you free them.

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself as you flip them over so you can read them. Your eyes trail over the top, a mix of letters and numbers that mean something unknown to you. It’s a form of some sort, holding John’s information. More information than you’ve ever seen about your alpha.

Your brow furrows as you stare at it. “I don’t know what this is.”

John shifts on his feet. “Consider it a letter of resignation, of sorts.”

Your eyes snap up to him at those words. You know what that means. Your eyes dart between him and the stack of papers, back and forth in disbelief. Letter of resignation?

“Cap, you’re-” Kyle starts but he can’t finish before you cut him off.

“You’re retiring?” Your voice displays just as much disbelief as you’re feeling.

Please don’t let it be a joke. Please don’t let it be a lie.

John nods. “Yes.” He shifts on his feet again. He’s nervous, something you never thought you’d see. “I always thought I’d spend my entire life in the service, until I was forced to retire or I died in the field. Then things changed. This pack was formed, we were given the gift of an omega.” He turns to you again. “I know how much living this life has drained you. These last few months we’ve spent here have proven that to me. You don’t deserve to be forced to wait on us, live the life you don’t want in favor of us living the life we do. You deserve to have comfort and security in knowing your alpha will always be here for you.”

Tears gather in your eyes as you continue to stare at the paperwork. Letter of resignation. He’s really doing it. He’s really going to retire. It’s not some trick, some lie, some sort of dream. He’s going to put aside what he wants in favor of what you want. For the first time you’re going to get a chance to live out a life outside the military.

You’re getting what you want.

“John…” You breathe, fighting back a sob.

He kneels down in front of you, cupping your face with his hand. “You deserve to live a happy life. I’m going to be the one to give that to you.”

You lean into his touch, pressing your nose into his wrist. Petrichor, rich earth, the forest.

The scent of your alpha, the scent of home.

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[theshrikeandcanary]

kill me again

john price x fem!reader

when your old life is too much to bear, you decide you ought to kill it and bury it. not knowing who else to turn to, you beg John Price to aid you in your endeavor. he decides he wants to give you much more than just a fresh beginning.

tw: inspired by kill me again (1989), domestic abuse/violence, blood kink, blood eating, smut, dub-con, unhinged john price, retired john price, manhandling, light breeding kink

The dreams start the day your husband first places his hands on you. 

Brutal violence completed in a drunken stupor that leaves you with a swollen eye and has your co-workers questioning what you’ve done to yourself—you exercise a rigid equanimity that has them believing the honey coated lies that drip from your tongue. You play this game well—practiced for many years, shrouded beneath quiet smiles and well placed clothing. You keep this composure no matter what falls upon you. Be it his fist, or his lips. 

There is no time to crack or fracture, lest your dream slip between your fingers like fine grains of sand. This liberation—your deliverance—grows closer by the day in the form of hidden clothes and a separate bank account. A suitcase wedged in the boot of your car. A full tank of gas. An internet history littered with searches for a new home. Apartments you can rent. Someplace out of the way. Far from the city. Hidden in the depths below lowering skies and thick forests. 

Except he finds it. The empty dresser drawers, vacant of your clothes, and the letters from the bank about your new account. How your other one is emptied. You find him sitting in his recliner, stupid fingers choking a beer bottle, breath heavy with liquor and eyes brimming with a virulent desire to teach you a lesson. 

And he does. It’s a lesson he teaches well. One that sets every inch of your skin ablaze and leaves snot pooling in the back of your throat as your hands claw at thick forearms. 

“Think you can fucking leave me?” he questions. It’s slurred, but you’re not sure if it’s because of the liquor or the squeezing of his fingers on your throat. “The only way you’re leaving me is when you’re dead. Get that through your thick skull you stupid cunt.” 

So close. Tender and ripe, seeds waiting to spill into your mouth, gullet waiting to swallow—then, taken. Dumped on the edge of the bed. Shoved into overflowing drawers. Fabric stained with tears, suitcase shredded with the knife meant for your gut, offals ready to taste the sour breath of your malevolent lover. 

Your fantasies fade like smoke on warm water. They dissipate into the air, vanishing, utterly forgotten by your mind and soul as you cook for a man who spits at you, dead bed heavy in the evenings, mornings algid enough to leave you shivering. 

Until—one day—you finally wake up. 

“I need you to kill me.” 

It’s been years since John Price has laid eyes on you. Several tours around the world have kept his mind busy with paperwork and his hands occupied with a gun. He’s spent so long wading through the gore of war that he’s not sure he’s gotten the gunpowder to wash free from his skin quite yet. 

Maybe that’s why you ask this question of him, trembling on the other side of his desk, nails digging into the bottom of your seat, bottom lip quivering. His wrinkled crows feet deepen in the creases of his eyes as he smiles at you, a chuckle rumbling in his throat. 

How strange for the one who got away to find his way back to him under such peculiar circumstances. 

“Not really kill me,” you clarify. You’re picking at your cuticles. He notices they’re not painted anymore like you used to when the two of you were younger—before he went off to be a hero and before you were stolen by another man. “I just- John, you’re the only one I can trust with this. I need to vanish.” 

“You want me to help you fake your own death?” he asks incredulously. 

“Tell me you’ll do it,” you beg. 

It’s far-fetched, even for him. Though it’s a set of skills he has honed for many years, that life is behind him now. Idolized in dog tags shoved in the back of the closet and pictures he can hardly stand to look at anymore. These days, he does office work. Paperwork that strains his tired eyes while wearing suits that make his skin crawl. 

“I think you’re taking the piss out of me with this one, sweetheart,” he says jocularly, cheeks pinching as he smiles. 

“He beats me, John.” 

A blink—then, there’s red. Ichor stains his vision, casting you in vermillion light. A glossy sheen coats your eyes, reminding him of the lacquered dolls his grandmother used to collect when he was a child; sitting pretty and pristine on ivory shelves. Hair so delicate and meant for petting, but always just out of his reach. 

“I tried to get away, but he caught me. He nearly killed me that night. I was terrified, and I just- I can’t go to the cops. They won’t work fast enough, and I have nowhere else to go, he’s taken everything I have. Please. If you don’t do this, if you don’t kill me, then he will.” 

John folds—wet tissue paper caught in the wind. “I’ll take care of it.” 

That night, John Price does not sleep. 

There’s a cottage that lines the environs of a lake where the bramble is thick and the bushes produce sweet berries in the summertime. Bequeathed to him after the death of his grandfather, it’s been sitting vacant for decades. Rotting from the inside out as time decays the wood and bevels the roof. 

His hands dance. Hammer and nails. Saws and axes. Paint drying on walls. Within three weeks it’s fit enough to be a home. A bedroom large enough for two, and a second room to be whatever you wish—a library, an office—

—a nursery. 

“How much do you need?” 

Your voice is quiet; squeaky like a mouse. The needle pinched between his fingers has your hairline glistening and throat bobbing. There’s swelling on the apex of your cheek, edema bleeding into your eye, but he does not mention it as he pierces your arm, drawing blood into a tube and letting it drip into a bag. 

“Only enough to kill you,” he quips. 

He does this three times. Spread over aching weeks where you’re riddled with migraines and dizzy spells so violent you find your hands gripping the walls at work. Your co-workers look at you with narrowed eyes as they pass you in hallways despite your gracious smiles and reassuring nods. 

Five months after the day you begged John Price to kill you, he finally does it. 

Stale bleach stings your nose as you stare at the hotel bed, stiff sheets perfectly creased along the edge of the mattress, pillows fluffed and pristine. John stands behind you, leather gloves stretched over his hands as he toys with the bags of your blood and the knife he intends to leave behind. 

Your heart thuds so violently in your chest that you feel it traverse up your throat where it swells, ready to burst. Freedom is so close you can nearly taste it. 

“Ready?” John’s voice is even—rough like steel. You shouldn’t be surprised. You doubt the blood scares him anymore. 

Nodding, you glance over your shoulder. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so.” 

There are several steps to John’s plan—ones he stresses the importance of following perfectly. Obeying, you knock the lamp over at his command, letting it topple to the floor where the lampshade bends and the bulb flickers. When he shoves you onto the mattress, leaving you to stare up at him with wide eyes, he only chuckles. Tells you that he has to make it look believable. There’s no murder without a struggle. 

Gloved fingers rustle the blankets up around you as he manhandles you into different positions along the bed. Despite his firm touch, there’s no pain that lingers or blood that pools in your arms like when your husband touches you. You giggle. Anxiety and relief coalesces into a raging river in your stomach, frying your nerves until there’s nothing left but adrenaline. 

Quirking a thick brow, John looks down at you, leather gloves tracing your ankle as he straightens himself. “Having fun?”

“Sorry, I’m just… so nervous.” But you’re smiling wider than he’s ever seen you before. 

When it comes to the blood, John spills it on top of you. Legs caging the side of your hips, he pierces the bag with his knife and lets it drip over your chest, your stomach, the mattress—when it stains his pants he tells himself he has nothing to worry about. Soon enough, your DNA and his will be used to mingling. It’ll be natural. Necessary. 

“I can’t believe this is really happening,” you breathe. The blood is cold against your skin but it spills as if it were warm. Pooling in your neck, sticking to your palms, John tells you to paw at the duvet, and you do. “You said there’s a cottage I can stay at? We’ll be heading there next, right?” 

“Mhm. Fixed it up nice and pretty for you, sweetheart,” he confirms. 

You beam, skin illuminated with your own blood, clothes sticking to every curve of your body. John tosses the first bag to the side before adding another one, this time making sure to wet his knife and fling it, high impact splatters staining the wall, the ceiling, your own face. 

Then, he grabs you again, leather pressing into your wrists as he pins you. He assures you that he’s just making the scene more realistic, an act well done, but the whimper that leaves your lips is very much real. He stares down at you, and the way your eyes trace the way his beard lines his mouth, and he thinks you’ve never looked more beautiful than this—on the precipice of escape. 

“John…” His name bleeds off of your tongue.

He’s done for. 

You keen pretty for him when his knife slices through your shirt, exposing your breasts, torso gleaming with ichor like wine. When he decides to have a taste for himself, you can hardly wiggle against the flat of his tongue on your stomach. He smothers your protest with a kiss. You’re rigid against him, lips like cement left out to dry in the sun, but then, you melt. You deliquesce beneath his touch, gloved hands raking down your body, yanking your pants off before your mind can fully make sense of it. 

When he feeds his cock into your aching cunt, he tells you this is how he seals the agreement—a proper bond, an unbreakable promise. This is how he kills you, with thrust after reaming thrust, nestling into the deepest parts of you that your husband has yet to destroy. And when you clasp your hand over your mouth to stifle the moans that leave your mouth, and he catches the glint on your ring finger, he snatches it. Metal free from your skin, he tosses it; lets it topple along the musty carpet before interlacing your fingers with his. 

Then, you’re a corpse. Lifeless beneath him, chest heaving with heavy gasps as your eyelids flutter shut, thoroughly fucked until your brain is mush. He spills the final bag and drowns the room in it before he wraps you up in the blankets and moves you to his car. Bridal style. White linens like a dress. Red blood like the breaking of a hymen—this is your union. 

This is your fateful conjugality. 

Three weeks go by in the blink of an eye. The hours feel like mere minutes when your husband is no longer breathing down your neck, huffing his hate and vitriol into the shape of your spine. John brings you fresh groceries every few days before leaving you on your own to wander the edge of the lake and collect flowers to place in your windowsill. Every morning you wake up and the bed is warm. You can cook without the television blaring or a man grumbling. Your fridge is not marred with alcohol. 

On the morning of the third week, there is a forearm around your waist.  

You startle until you feel John’s voice purr against your ear as he wishes you good morning. His comfort fuzzies your mind to the point you don’t even bother to ask him why he’s here, or why his chest is pressed against your back. Instead, your muscles relax, body morphing to the shape of him. 

“Is everything okay?” you ask. 

John nuzzles his nose into the back of your neck. “Of course they are.” 

Truly, they are. He’s here in this bed with you, half naked and lazy, enjoying the way the daybreak gleams across your form. Everything is just as it ought to be—

—at least where you’re concerned. 

You have yet to notice the reports of your fictitious murder, or how the police found your diary where you recounted the events of your abuse. You have yet to notice the news of your husband’s arrest, or how he’s being charged with second degree murder.

You have yet to notice the fresh flowers resting on your nightstand, or the new ring on your left hand. 

But John tells himself you’ll learn all about this in due time. 

“How long are you here for?” you question, voice thick with your lingering slumber. 

John’s grin sticks to the back of your neck. 

“For the rest of my life.”