readingwithatorch

[readingwithatorch]

Was stalking and accidentally saw this poster a minute ago… ahould be focusing on exams…

For thic Thursday: nymph biting on Simon or johnnys titties (you know they have great tits perfect for nibbling on) please please pleas

It was the second or third consecutive week you were sleeping in their bed with them. They had argued that it was your bed, your marriage bed and you were sharing it, a place where you all belonged. You were growing used to their touch, used to touching them, and often your hands would wander.

You longed to touch them, it had become something you enjoyed more often than not. There had come a point in time when feeling them had been part of the process to soothe your nervousness of being a bride.

On one particular stormy night, with lightning flashing outside the window and the rumble of thunder, you lay pressed between them. Johnny’s hand had lowered from your hip almost to the curve of your ass, while Simon playfully tugged on the collar of your chemise.

Your eyes dropped to the firmness of Simon’s pectoral’s, the lines and edges of his chest was intoxicating. You were driven by some kind of instinct, by a desire to open your mouth and latch onto him.

You angled your head, you lowered yourself toward his chest. You worked up the courage, you took slow deep breaths before you parted your lips and pressed your tongue to his pectoral. It was a soft and slow movement, just feeling your tongue against the expanse of his chest, it was a sensation that was unlocked for you.

The hair of his chest, the firmness of his skin, it made you feel invigorated.

“What’ya doin’ sweetpea?” The name slipped again, Simon called you sweetpea after the flowers you planted on the estate.

“Do you want me to stop?” You pull back and give him a look of surprise, of confusion and almost guilt.

“Nah, look at ‘im.” Johnny croons in your ear, answering for Simon. “Them big tits, just as pretty as yours.”

Johnny’s hands slide up your abdomen to your chest where he grabs a handful of your breasts and squeezes. Your whimper and whine is instantaneous, and you’re encouraged to sink your teeth, lightly, into Simon’s chest—right around his nipple.

“Fuckin’ animals, ye both are.” Simon’s voice is gruff yet his actions counter his words, as he pushes your head back down. “Go on then, wife. Mark your husband’s chest with your tongue and teeth, mark me like a good girl.”

You don’t pull back, given this new freedom, this permission and the sexual experience you’re starting to build, you know it’s okay.

Simon and Johnny both want you to become freer with your pleasure.

“Tha’s a good girl, just like that love.”

[readingwithatorch]

For thic Thursday: nymph biting on Simon or johnnys titties (you know they have great tits perfect for nibbling on) please please pleas

It was the second or third consecutive week you were sleeping in their bed with them. They had argued that it was your bed, your marriage bed and you were sharing it, a place where you all belonged. You were growing used to their touch, used to touching them, and often your hands would wander.

You longed to touch them, it had become something you enjoyed more often than not. There had come a point in time when feeling them had been part of the process to soothe your nervousness of being a bride.

On one particular stormy night, with lightning flashing outside the window and the rumble of thunder, you lay pressed between them. Johnny’s hand had lowered from your hip almost to the curve of your ass, while Simon playfully tugged on the collar of your chemise.

Your eyes dropped to the firmness of Simon’s pectoral’s, the lines and edges of his chest was intoxicating. You were driven by some kind of instinct, by a desire to open your mouth and latch onto him.

You angled your head, you lowered yourself toward his chest. You worked up the courage, you took slow deep breaths before you parted your lips and pressed your tongue to his pectoral. It was a soft and slow movement, just feeling your tongue against the expanse of his chest, it was a sensation that was unlocked for you.

The hair of his chest, the firmness of his skin, it made you feel invigorated.

“What’ya doin’ sweetpea?” The name slipped again, Simon called you sweetpea after the flowers you planted on the estate.

“Do you want me to stop?” You pull back and give him a look of surprise, of confusion and almost guilt.

“Nah, look at ‘im.” Johnny croons in your ear, answering for Simon. “Them big tits, just as pretty as yours.”

Johnny’s hands slide up your abdomen to your chest where he grabs a handful of your breasts and squeezes. Your whimper and whine is instantaneous, and you’re encouraged to sink your teeth, lightly, into Simon’s chest—right around his nipple.

“Fuckin’ animals, ye both are.” Simon’s voice is gruff yet his actions counter his words, as he pushes your head back down. “Go on then, wife. Mark your husband’s chest with your tongue and teeth, mark me like a good girl.”

You don’t pull back, given this new freedom, this permission and the sexual experience you’re starting to build, you know it’s okay.

Simon and Johnny both want you to become freer with your pleasure.

“Tha’s a good girl, just like that love.”

[readingwithatorch]

Can you please please please write something about knight ghoap dealing with a sick wifey for the first time since being married? She’s trying to keep them away so they don’t get sick but they just want to be around her

Any attempt on your part to lock the door is futile against two knights. You know that trying to keep your new husbands out of the bedroom and away from your sickness is just as futile as locking the door was.

Once they get in, the state of the room is still just as you are. Curled under blankets while sniffling and coughing, feeling a slight fever does you no good, not when you’re tying to convey health.

“Come on, up.” A firm hand to your backside, the blow muffled by blankets, has you shifting and turning on the bed. “Need something to eat.”

You look pitiful, you know you do, your hair is a mess and your eyes are slightly puffy from the cold. Your nose is completely stuffed and your head hurts. You look like a mess because you are a mess, and it shows.

“Don’t want you to get sick.” You hide your mouth behind the blankets as you cough into the material. “I didn’t want you to get it-”

“Sweet wife,” Johnny reaches forward and presses his wrist to your forehead, a frown tugging at his lips when he feels your temperature, “cannae avoid us. ‘S our job to take care of ye.”

“Soup,” Simon runs his free hand along your back, while his other holds a mug, “chicken broth and vegetables. You need something in your stomach.”

“You’ll get sick.” You whine, your protest verbally while you physically lean into Johnny, resting your head on his shoulder. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Dinnae try and keep us away.” Johnny turns his head, kissing into your hair, his hand resting on your waist, steadying you while Simon starts spooning soup to your lips. “Eat up, love.”

“You’ll get sick.” You repeat yourself, this time to Simon. He, like Johnny, scolds you gently while feeding you soup. It feels like a contrast to them both, how harrowing they can be on the battlefield only to turn into soft and kind men for their wife.

“And?” Simon helps you eat, slowly feeding you while you sip on the broth and eat the vegetables, both of which are comforting to you regardless of your lack of entry. It makes you feel warm, full and content despite being sick.

When the bowl is halfway finished Simon sets it down, and he runs his hand over your forehead and cheeks. He’s gentle, observing, until he’s content enough to let you lay down again. But you’re not alone, they won’t head your warnings and as soon as you get comfortable they’re there again.

Stripping out of their shirts and pants, Simon and Johnny flock you between them. Their bodies are marred with scars, signs of their years of loyalty and dedication to the king. Now that they’ve traded in the fight for domesticity and the role of being husbands, they take it with as much seriousness as they did being knights.

Vows mean something, their roles as your husband means more to them than you can understand.

“We’ll take care of you.” Their whispers aide you back into sleep, deeper than it was before.

[readingwithatorch]

for johnny&simon day - a little headcanon with a request: i think handmaiden!reader and knights!ghoap all have their own bedchambers or at least ghoap give reader her own chambers in their estate because a) she deserves having her own space; b) she was so shy so they thought that sharing bed with them every night might actually kill her. But all of the chambers have giant beds to accommodate all three of them if they decided to sleep together or… 😏

so, how would reader react to Ghoap coming to her chambers one by one to sleep by her side? her two cute giant husbands wanting her attention and care 🥺

❣️

Your sleep is fruitless. At least it is for the first few hours of you attempting to find deep rest. The bed is soft and warm, the fireplace in the bed chambers keeps the temperature comfortable for you. It should be peaceful and yet you find it lonely.

But you couldn't go get your husband's, no they were probably sleeping together. And after the last time you had accidentally walked in on them being intimate, you had shied away from bothering them. The sight of Simon banging the headboard against the wall while Johnny was pinned beneath him, it was an elicit sight that you didn't think you were privvy to.

Still sleep wasn't coming to you. And you were desperate for it.

It seemed as if sleep was going to completely evade you, when the door opened. At first the cream had sent your body into a state of panic, and you would have to decide between fight or flight. However when you lowered the blankets and looked toward the entrance of the chamber's, your fright had shifted to curiosity.

"Simon?" You saw the hulking image of one of your husband's as he stopped into the room, moving silently like he was a predator on the hunt. "Is everything okay?"

"Should be askin' you that." He closes the door behind him and draws himself toward the bed, sitting down near your left thigh. "Heard you tossin' and turnin'. Can't sleep, love?"

You don't hide the fact that sleep evades you, and you shuffle over on the bed to give his large frame more space to sit. Simon's hand is gentle when he adjusts the blanket covering your body, a soft him under his breath that sounds gentle yet roguish like the man himself is.

"Want company, sweetpea?" He slips out the pet-names he's given you, the soft and pretty flowers were some you had requested to be planted a few weeks after you had moved into the estate. They were now your treasured flowers, the beautiful petals had often drawn your attention when you were outside enjoying the sun.

"You don't...well you don't have to-" you're still bashful, still not used to the attention of two men who are crazy about you. But you are getting used to their presence and your new station in life, you are leaning into the role of being their wife.

"Move over, let me in." Simon lifts the blanket and slides in next to you, his body filling up the space to your left, intensifying the heat. It makes you feel like a cat or kitten before they curl up to their owner for warmth and protection, for comfort they need.

When he settles next to you, he rests a hand at your waist. You feel heat radiate from his hand, from his broad chest, and you exhale a sigh. It's a good feeling, being here with him, even if you are new to intimacy and trying to take things slow for your comfort.

"What you saw-"

"I shouldn't have been praying, I'm sorry-" Simon is quick to quiet you, resting a finger against your lips.

"No, stop. This is your home and when you're ready that's your bed too." The beast of a knight has extended a softness to you that you hadn't seen him extend to others. Simon is a brute, even in retirement, who doesn't allow shite to take place near people he loves.

Johnny can take care of himself but you are their sweet little wife, and you know they'r both protective of you.

"Here you are," the door opens again and Johnny pads into the bedchamber, less quiet than Simon has, "been wonderin' where you were. Mind, nymph?"

You look at Johnny over your shoulder and shake your head. That's all it takes for him to slide into bed next to you, wriggling until he's closed the distance between your body and his. While Simon has his hand on your waist, Johnny sets his hand upon your hip, comfortably tracing patterns through your chemise.

"Cannae sleep, my love?" Johnny asks, already knowing the answer, and slips closer to you. "Wan'me to tell ya stories of the Highlands?"

"It'll put anyone to sleep." Simon draws closer to you and mumbles when you roll over to face Johnny, turning your back to Simon.

"Get real close, a stór. This is a good one." Johnny looks past you and winks at Simon, both of them communicating the latest breakthrough with you, their shared wife.

[readingwithatorch]

Okay but what if it’s the first major ball after ghoap and the queens handmaiden got married and while other people are judging her because she’s not sure what to do okay she never thought she’d be on this side of the balls shed thought she’d be serving them for the rest of her life until she married ghoap okay?

But the Queen has always like her and takes her under her wing to show her the ropes

Your hands are hidden in the bell sleeves of your dress, fingers curling against your palm. You can’t breathe properly but not because of your corset and dress, rather it’s your nerves. Your place in this world has been shifted from a handmaiden for the Queen, to a married woman to two brave knights.

You have staff of your own, an estate that you have begun running with your husbands. There are no more days toiling at the fireplace stirring the ashes, gathering eggs from the coop for breakfast, baking bread or tending to the Queen��s needs.

Now you are a woman of nobility through marriage—high nobility granted to you by the King and Queen, titles that you are granted because of Simon & Johnny.

“Little nymph shaking in ‘er boots,” he teases you so effortlessly, Johnny’s accent echoes in your ear as he shamelessly embraces your waist in his thick arms, “not used to these parties, aye?”

“I should be serving the food, I…that’s all I know.” You shiver against his lips, boldly tracing your neck. “Johnny-”

“No.” Simon speaks over you, stoic and guarded as he always seems to be in these crowds. “You’re not a servant.”

The word is final, and you’d think his tone is harsh until his fingers run along your jaw to your chin. His thumb and forefinger lift your head up and force your gaze to meet his. His eyes seem cold to the outside world, forged with ice he built up from the numerous battles he had went on. He’s a beast, there’s a reason they call him a Death-Mongerer, but to you he’s your husband.

It may have only been a week that you’d been married but they both took their vows increasingly seriously.

“Don’t bow your head for anyone but the king and queen.” A demand that’s laced with affection for you, for Johnny who’s observing this all, is solid proof that Simon has a heart.

Guarded as it is.

“I don’t know what to do.” Your voice conveys your own truth, shakeable as it is, that you were not noble. You were never noble, you were a servant until they day they decided they finally wanted a gift from the king: you.

“Ah dinnae worry about the wee beasts,” Johnny’s hip brushed against yours as he equally crowds you into their proactive guard, “all the nobles are like children. My ma always told me they cannae ‘ave enough to complain about.”

Simon’s hand doesn’t drop from your chin. His thumb brushes your bottom lip and pulls it down every so softly, ending the pout you’d never noticed had formed. His gaze swept over you, his eyes becoming half lidded and he chuckled to himself, low in his chest.

“What?” You mumble the question, spying the queen approaching from the corner of your eyes.

“If ya really need a distraction, love…” he leans in to steal a kiss, swift yet bold, “think about what position your husbands’ are gonna put you in when we get home.”

Your lips part in silent protest of something you don’t even know. It’s only been a week that you’d been married and in that week both Simon and Johnny have been asked to train new knights. They have been gone, only home one or two nights, you’d not shared the marriage bed in the context of christening your marriage.

“Did ye really think we wouldnae touch our wife?” Johnny adds to the message that you would be bedded, though there’s promise of them giving rather than just taking.

“I didn’t-” a voice clears to your left, the Queen approaches and nods her head in respect to the two knights although they bow in retrospect to her status.

“Knight Riley and knight MacTavish,” she smiles cordially, a kind woman that you really liked working for, “may I borrow your wife for a few moments?”

Your fingers curl to your palms again as the Queen walks side by side with you. Away from the gossiping nobles trying to one up each other, toward the quietude of the head table. She invites you to sit while the King is busy discussing something with another high ranking noble. Once you take your seat beside the Queen, she smiles reassuringly and rests a hand on yours.

“Relax, take a breath. You look like you’re going to jump out of your own skin.” The princess, now turned queen, had always been friendly. There was never a time when she had been harsh or particularly cruel to you. You were a servant, yes, but she had taken great care into treating all of her handmaiden’s well.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, I’m used to being on the other side of these.” You admit with vicarious anxiousness, your attention sliding from the Queen to your husband’s—the two of them speaking with other knights-to-be.

“You’ll do fine,” she reaches for a wine glass and sets it in front of you, treating you like a member of her family rather an ex-servant, “breathe, don’t let the narrow mindedness of the gossiping women get to you. They have no business being as entitled as they are.”

You take the offered wine and lean back against your seat, your shoulders only slightly lower than her own. You take the first sip of the fruity concoction of the wine, humming as it warms your tongue.

“Glühwein,” she hums in pleasure just as you had, setting the cup down, “a traditional drink from my homeland. It’s good.”

With wine taken and your shoulders relaxing from the tension, the Queen squeezes your hand and delivers another softened statement.

“I’ll help you, I’ll teach you everything you need to know.” Her voice is calm and soft, and she diverts her attention from you to your husband’s. “Including what your own mother should’ve taught you about the physical bonds of marriage.”

You knew what she meant, you knew what she was implying. Just as your husband’s had, you knew that consummation was coming.

[readingwithatorch]

brave and valiant knights Simon & Johnny fight for the King and have returned from war honourable. The King grants them the highest praise earned for knights like themselves.

The King, to thank them for their service, grants them retirement and wealth, and a woman to share. The woman they wanted since before they left for war: their queen’s handmaiden

Wiping your hands on the apron on the front of your dress is only natural for you. To get rid of the moisture that sticks to your hands, that gives away your true feelings that you hide behind a perfected poised smile. You are a handmaiden to the queen, a woman destined to work for a woman much more royal than you.

Today you find yourself standing in the royal court, shifting your weight from foot to foot beneath the skirts of your ordinary work dress. The apron tied at your waist is dirtied from stoking the fire, ashes dust your cheeks, and yet you have garnered the attention of two knights.

Returning from war, Knight Simon the Death-Mongerer and Knight Johnny the Galloglaigh, had become legends in their return. They were beastly and fearless, scars marked their victories and their deeds during the war earned them retirement and wealth.

With retirement came the desire for marriage, a wife for the two of them to share, a woman who would bear them strong willed daughters and sons. The task of finding a wife for the two fierce men was not a task anyone could consider hard by any means.

They were desired, they were highly coveted by other noblewomen and higher status maids than yourself. There was a long line of women who would offer themselves up to be their future bride.

But the two men already knew who they wanted. They had made their choice and it was a request given to the king that was honoured. The women that had lined the halls trying to vie a place in the brave knights favour had wasted their time and efforts on someone who didn’t want them.

“A handmaiden?” The choice was negated as odd at the very least, considering how many other women had wanted to take the position as the knight’s wife.

Their choice was you. And you’d never felt more awkwardly stationed in your life, as you had now.

Your dress was used, worn from the years of service to the princess who then became queen. You had a dusty and slightly dirty apron, charcoal on your cheeks and they still chose you.

You stood in the royal court while the two men, the two valiant knights, had presented the Queen with substantially capable proof that her handmaiden wouldn’t fall to the wayside. The Knights Simon & Johnny had presented you with gifts of fine dresses, a delicate mirror set into fine silver with a hairbrush to match. Jewelry that you’d never been able to wear before, hairpins to weave into your hair when you woke in the morning.

A staff of your own, to deal with the day to day life that you would experience once you left the castle. They had it all, an estate in the quietude of the countryside, still within riding distance of the castle grounds but it was your own.

“Our bride,” Johnny’s physical boldness was as unforgettable as his verbal bravery, “will be taken care of your Highness.”

His hand slipped around your waist, your body pressed against his side. Scars on his arms, one that trailed down his right temple to nearly his jaw, and they hadn’t deterred from his beauty.

Simon, the Death Mongerer, was no less bold. In the royal court they lay their possession upon you. They were making a statement, one you couldn’t deny.

You were their wife in the eyes of the King & Queen.

[readingwithatorch]

new obsession unlocked- knights!Ghoap x handmaiden!reader. anon and you cooked something delicious 🤤

I probably shouldn’t, but I can’t. Can you share with us the moment or one of them that made Ghoap decide that reader was the one? Can you show us what she did that made them finally ask something from the King? Something cute or silly or horny. Something heartwarming or touching. Her alone or with the Queen. What was it?

❣️

“What ye lack in direction, ye make up for it in deadly fury.” Johnny’s grin breaks the tension of the clack of conversation between the two knights. The travel between the latest village they were tasked with checking on after raids from thieves, to their home at the castle was long-winded.

“You lost the bloody fucking map, ya fucked-” Simon’s growl echoes in the dimly lit forest, the thick overhanging entangled vines that block their view simultaneously startle their beastly horses.

“-I dinnae lose the map, ye were in charge of the-” Johnny protests the accusation, shifting his weight on his horse with just enough bad timing to scare the otherwise controlled beast.

The sharp and frightened cry of the horse has a chain reaction that also makes Simon’s buck him off. The two knights, for all their years of service and expertise, had been thrown off their mounts like they were fresh from the womb. The startled creatures take off in the same direction furthering themselves into the forest while the infamous men lay on the mossy earth.

“Fucking hell!” Simon stumbles to his feet after he processes the manner of which they’d been thrown off, and then helps Johnny stand.

“Blamin’ time for this too, aye?” Johnny’s grin never falters, he claps Simon on the back and gathers the supplies the horse kicked off in their fright. He throws them across his own back and then starts charting off after the scared beasts.

“Ya lost the bloody fuckin’ map, Johnny!” Simon follows the same path, taking off after their great horses of war turned to little mice scared of their own shadows. “This is your fault.”

“Ahh, ye worry too much. We’ll get there eventually.” Even if he was a death mongerer on the battlefield, Johnny knew Simon couldn’t stay mad at him. Johnny was too charming, too charismatic for Simon to be pissed for long.

An hour, two even, passes before the silence breaks. Johnny speaks, he breaks the stilled conversation with much of the same irritation that Simon had conducted. It was a trek through the woods to find their way back from the village and back to the castle.

“Our fuckin’ horses-”

“Shut up.” Simon’s hand shoots out, silencing Johnny with a curt voice. His eyes pierced through the reeling toward a small pond, one that was surrounded with thick grass and spurts of natural flowers. The pond itself was small and isolated yet no so far from the castle that seeing someone here would be uncommon.

“What are you doin’-” Johnny stepped beside Simon, his own blue eyes searching through the cracks and spaces in the wall of trees to see another person.

A woman in plain work dress that the staff of the castle would wear. A woman who was petting their horses necks and calming them as they stomped on the ground.

“That’s the Queen’s handmaiden.” Simon’s gruff voice dropped to a whisper, still husky and hoarse. “Recognize the maid from the Queen’s private wing.”

“Tha’s the Queen’s maid?” Johnny steps toward, watching you as you fuss over their horses.

The two war creatures that the noble knights rode into hell and back, were acting like puppies at your sides. The horses’ heads were bowed while you brushed dirt from their hair with your hand. You were coddling them, feeding them fresh apples from your basket, filling buckets of water for them to drink from.

Their attention was fixated on the handmaiden, on you, as you catered to the beasts.

“Forest nymph,” Johnny’s grin becomes something softer, driven more by a fantasy than his mere charming personality, “or a sprite. My ma told me ‘bout ‘em. Beautiful creatures that linger in the forest, animals’ called to ‘em.”

“They aren’t real, Johnny.” Simon’s voice holds on to a higher touch of reality and yet he also seems to be drawn to the image of the Queen’s handmaiden taking care of their horses.

He moves forward, Johnny’s foot catches on a dried stick and the crack startles both horses and you. Your heads lift in unison, the horses ears perk up as they scour the treeline, only relaxing once they see their riders. But you, you stand stark and still like a doe debating whether to dart into the woods away from a predator.

“Aye lass, ye found our beasts!” Johnny brambles forward, his horse shaking its head as if denying the claim that it was found.

“I’m sorry,” you immediately set upon apologizing, stumbling over your feet and the skirt of your handmaiden’s dress, gathering your baskets of apples, “I shouldn’t be here.”

“Hold on a minute lassie,” Johnny steps out of the reeling and begins to walk around the pond, careful not to crush the flowers beneath the soles of his leather boots, “jus’wanna talk-”

His horse, as if suddenly taking the side of the forest nymph, seemingly gets spooked again. It kicks and blocks Johnny from following you, and Simon is having no better luck.

You’re fast for a woman in a handmaiden’s dress, you move quicker than they anticipate. As Simon and Johnny both try and control their beasts, the sound of your horse out of view is indicative of your escape. The hoofbeats ring in their ear as you leave, as you ride as quickly as you can away from them both.

[readingwithatorch]

For thick Thursday : handmaiden reader seeing her husbands naked for the first time

The door flies open and you’re halfway inside with some exciting news about your first successfully hatched chick, when it registered in your mind that they’re naked.

You stare at the two men, your husband’s in all their glory, naked as the day they were born. While you’re holding a tiny little yellow chick in your hands, tucked between your palms, your husband’s stand naked.

“I am so sorry!” Your voice is pinched; tight as you stumble through an apology. “I should’ve knocked, I’m so sorry-”

Halfway through your second attempt at an apology, Johnny pads toward you with a confident sway. Your eyes are drawn down his firm sculpted chest, broad, massive and still second to Simon, toward the flaccid weaponry at the apex of his thighs.

Your heart burns, your whole body burns, when you see the size even when soft. Your head snaps up and you stutter, bashfully trying to speak.

“Wha’’s that, nymph?” Johnny stops in front of you, head cocked to the side as the little yellow chick decides now is the perfect time to sleep. “Got a wee little hen like yourself?”

“A chick,” you mumble, eyes wide as your attention darts from Johnny to Simon, “first one to hatch-”

“Like what you’re seein’ love?” Simon crosses his arms over his chest, exemplifying his already broad chest and thick biceps. “Ever seen a man naked before?”

You can’t speak, your voice is pinched and tight. You try to form words but it all becomes mute, a strangled attempt to communicate presents itself as a squeak. A coil binds in your stomach, your heart feels like it’s about to explode, and you have a tingling sensation beneath your waist.

“I-I’m sorry. I should’ve knocked-” the chick between your palms shifts, just enough to make you think it’s waking up. “I was just-”

“A baby chick,” Simon hums, and like Johnny, walks toward you, “first of the year, yeah?”

And like Johnny, your eyes naturally are drawn downward to where the thick penis of your second husband sits flaccid—but no less powerful.

“I should go-”

“Dinnae,” Johnny rests a hand on your shoulder, stopping you from moving away, “stay while we get dressed.”

Johnny leads you to the bed, he makes you sit upon the mattress with that chick still resting in your palms. And as you sit, your gaze awkwardly bounces between their nakedness and the window, trying not to stare.

[readingwithatorch]

Late posting yeaaahhhhh🤘🏼🤘🏼🤘🏼

gamer!ghost that sits in his dark, dusty room, in kitty headphones playing all his free time, grinding for resources and achievements

gamer!ghost who shouts at other male and female players, cursing and criticising them in voice chat for their way of playing, almost breaking the mic.

gamer!ghost who accidentally enters your server and noticed you, little thing with cute voice, talking to your teammates never raising your voice and gently praising them. This is the time when Ghost's usual schedule changes.

gamer!ghost who awkwardly tried to befriend you, and you agreed with no hesitation and smile in your voice.

gamer!ghost that protects you the whole time you play, giving you the best resources he has, and swearing on players who tries to get your instagram profile or phone number.

gamer!ghost who found out your account information and donated you. Of course, when you two are playing again, he pretends to be surprised when you tell him about the situation.

gamer!ghost who is always online when you are online.

[readingwithatorch]

!LT simon! x !reader!

Simon Riley, the strong lieutenant, having a soft spot for you? Ha! Never. But deep down, in the quietest part of his heart, he couldn't fake it anymore. Maybe—just maybe—he did have a slight soft spot for you… but who said you had to know that?

You didn’t.

Then one day, as you were casually walking past his quarters, not paying much attention, you bumped right into him—into his broad, solid chest. You looked up quickly to see who it was.

Oh shit.

You just bumped into Lieutenant Riley.

Panic rushed through your chest. You were afraid of getting chewed out or written up, so you stammered quickly, “S-Sorry, Lieutenant…” Your voice was small, shy, barely above a whisper.

Simon looked down at your smaller frame and muttered, just loud enough for you to hear, “It’s fine. Just be careful next time.”

And then he walked past you.

You stood there for a good minute, frozen, brain still trying to catch up with what had just happened. You were so confused… but he was so fine that you immediately forgot about the awkwardness.

You shook your head and made your way to the mess hall, eventually plopping down onto a cold metal bench. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but it would do.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw Lieutenant Simon Riley sit down right next to you.

Your brows furrowed. Why was he sitting with you? This was the second encounter today… and in the mess hall of all places? That never happened. Simon never mingled like this. This was weird.

Was he doing this on purpose? Or was it all just a coincidence? Maybe it was an accident? You didn’t know what to make of it. So finally, curiosity got the best of you, and you turned to him.

“Mr. Riley… are you purposefully coming up to me?”

He glanced at you, cool and unreadable, and replied with a short but steady tone: “No. Just a coincidence.”

And he knew damn well that was a lie. He wanted to see you. Every single day. He didn’t even know why he felt so possessive over you—but he did. He wanted you. He needed to claim you.

Meanwhile, you were just sitting there confused as hell, unsure what to make of any of this. You ignored it, stood up, and walked out of the mess hall. There wasn’t much to do there anyway. You made your way toward your quarters, only to hear the overhead speaker blare:

"READER. SIMON. COME TO MY OFFICE."

You sighed and turned on your heel, heading toward Price’s office.

When you got there, Simon was already standing inside. You stepped in and quietly shut the door behind you. The room was heavy with silence. Price motioned for both of you to sit across from him, and you did—nervous, waiting for whatever this was.

Then Price spoke, voice sharp, straight to the point: “So. We’ve got too many recruits on base. We’re doubling up rooms. You two are the first pair. Hope you understand.”

The silence that followed was thick.

You opened your mouth to speak, but Simon beat you to it.

“Yes, sir. Which quarter is it?”

“Room 653,” Price replied simply.

Without another word, Simon stood up and began walking toward the assigned room. You stood too, following closely behind. His steps were purposeful, loud. Dominant.

When you got there, Simon opened the door.

The room was small—standard issue. A bunk bed in the corner, one nightstand, a rug on the floor, and plain-painted walls. No decorations. Nothing personal.

This wasn’t a princess castle. This was the military.

You both took a moment to look around, then you spoke, “I’m taking the bottom bunk.”

Simon let out a soft chuckle. “All good.”

You each began unpacking your things. You silently hoped Simon wasn’t the messy type—you hated mess. Thankfully, it didn’t take long to settle in, and the room stayed neat.

You sat down on the edge of the bed and said, “It’s actually kinda comfy…”

Simon looked over and replied, “Is it now? Well, that’s good.”

The air was a little awkward at first, but eventually, it softened. You talked until about 8 PM, and by then, it was time to get some rest. You both settled into bed.

But by 1 or 2 AM, you were still wide awake.

Frustrated, you quietly climbed up the bunk ladder and reached Simon, gently shaking him. No response. You shook him a little harder.

He groaned, eyes blinking sleepily as he rubbed his temples and sat up.

“I… I can’t sleep,” you whispered shyly.

He sighed. “Well, just use the military method. You already know it.”

“I tried, Simon. It won’t work. I tried multiple times!”

He sighed again, more deeply this time, and turned his back toward you.

You frowned. “Simon—! I wanna sleep just as much as you do. Please…”

Something about the way you said please made something shift in him.

Without a word, he pulled you into his arms, spooning you gently but firmly. “This means nothing… it’s just friendship,” he muttered.

But he knew damn well that was a lie.

It meant a lot more than friendship for him.

pt 2 when🤨? i loved this sm you guys DO NOT know

[readingwithatorch]

werebear!price that was a full-fledged king of his forest, every hybrid that lived there knew his and its place. And no one dared to encroach on something that is his.

werebear!price who noticed you, moving into a house in the middle of his forest, and decided to keep an eye on you for now. He preferred not to have confrontations with people.

werebear!price who was irritated by your presence in his forest at first, but when he saw you feeding one of the local bunny hybrids his heart finally melted.

werebear!price that started to get close to your house out of curiosity, knowing you will hot harm him, hoping to get a lil snack too! His appearance scared you, of course hes a fucking huge bear wym , but you sill left him some meat and looked at him through the window

werebear!price who sat in front of your house, staring at your window and waiting for you to go out and meet him. Poor man forgot that he's a bear.

werebear!price that once decided to visit you in his human form introducing himself as a neighbour that got a little bit lost in the forest and asked you to let him stay in your house for a while.

[readingwithatorch]

I WANT MORE OF BUTCHER SIMON SO BAD , you know when they started to become couples his business got growing up and he had to open other meat shops and restaurants and he became rich and asking her to marry him while she’s pregnant with his child ahhhhhh

Hi anon! I love writing butcher!simon too oml😭 It's not rlly turned out how you described it to be, but we have more parts to write and read! Enjoy!

butcher!simon who woke up after the night you two spent together (I shall say the night he spent in you). And fuuck, how pretty you looked for him! Hair all messy, naked, wrapped in the blanket in his bed. But smile faded from his lips when he thought "No, you weren't fully his yet."

butcher!simon who was afraid of you ghosting him after that night, but to his relief you showed up at his shop the next day, all dolled up and beautiful, kissing him in front of other customers, making him be over the moon and ready to cum in his fucking pants.

butcher!simon who started to receive messages from you that you're feeling sick and you puked a couple of times:( That's when the man realises: he bred you just right. You're pregnant with his baby.

butcher!simon who rushes to your place, wanting to feel your warmth as soon as possible and thank you for carrying his baby

butcher!simon who falls on his knees to pat your belly gently, to feel your now a very little baby bump with his palm

butcher!simon who goes shopping for your future baby immediately after finding out you're pregnant. Chooses clothes a size bigger , because he's oh so sure that his baby will be chubby like his daddy

butcher!simon that finally made sure that you're fully his.

[readingwithatorch]

butcher!simon that acts like a sweetheart in front of you in the shop, always offering you the best meat he has for a good price and tells you how to cook it just to make you stay a little bit longer

butcher!simon who could cry from happiness when you brought him the meal you cooked from meat he sold you. The man was so proud that he literally thinks you're his.

butcher!simon that finally asks you on a date, "Do ye wanna have a dinner after closin' ma shop?", looking like a wet little pup. After your cheerful smile and nod you left the shop. "Fucking hell" he ran his hand through his hair.

butcher!simon standing outside his shop with a bouquet of flowers, all fresh and well-dressed, waiting for you, his date, already imagining pumping you full of his seed, giving you his chubby baby

butcher!simon that cooked you the best dinner you have ever had, telling you his favourite dad jokes, that were previously tested on Johnny, rubbing your knee with his thumb already.

Part 4 is out!!

[readingwithatorch]

butcher!simon that got both of you drunk on the date and kissing at the table, his hand on your ass, lifting up your dress

butcher!simon that guided you to his place from the restaurant not even thinking about getting you laid, before you "accidentally" brushed his crotch with your hand multiple times

butcher!simon who was rough, oh so rough with meat but so caring and gentle with you, his little bird, pinning you down on his bed and kissing you passionately

butcher!simon who chuckled when your tiny hands drunkly tried to undo his belt but failed every time so he murmured "Don't worry princess, I'll serve you this cock tonight. Myself."

Part 5 is out!!

[readingwithatorch]

it all started cuz they wouldnt let Ghost drive

[readingwithatorch]

gaz: dressed up all nice, taken in the bathroom of some fancy hotel during a function

price: boomer sunglasses selfie inside a car

soap: gymbro selfie inspired by neil's gym selfies

ghost: accidentally flashbanged by his phone, trying to insert the charging cable after getting piss drunk

[readingwithatorch]

please PLEASE Can you write reader ovulating with Simon Riley, his dick would hurt by the end.

what happens to simon riley when you're ovulating (his dick would fall off if it were me tbh)

your sex life with simon is already active as is, so the moment you start ovulating, he's in trouble. serious trouble. you can barely keep yourself off of him. everything he does sends a throbbing want to your pussy.

manspreading? you're already on top of him, tugging his jeans down just enough to ride his heavy cock. his big hands find purchase on your hips, grunting lowly.

"fuckin' eager, huh?" he's only half hard by the time you're bouncing on him, and you don't get off until either of you can't speak, and you've ruined yet another pair of his jeans from the amount of slick and cum that stains the fabric.

rolling up his sleeves, seeing the way his forearms and veins flex? you're begging him to finger you, and he gladly listens.

"need me t'fuckin' fill ya full, don't ya?" bent over whatever surface of your house, stuffed full of his fingers knuckle deep as your walls clench around him. one orgasm isn't enough, two, three, four, five until you're babbling incoherently and spraying the front of his shirt with your release.

the thing men do when they reverse, placing one hand behind the passenger seat? belt, GONE. you make hasty work of his jeans just so you can suck his dick as he drives—bonus points if he's still reversing. half-way laid across the center console with a face-full of his throbbing cock, already leaking pre. he's a mess, whimpers spilling from his lips as he bites down on the plush flesh. he's pulling your panties to the side, burying three fingers deep in your cunt with ease at the sheer wetness of your pussy.

him, reading with glasses? you bet he isn't taking his eyes off a single page as he ruts into you from behind, book laid across your back slick with sweat. he might be a little mean, make you fuck yourself back on his dick, balls slightly slapping your clit enough to make your eyes roll back into your head. get a drop of cum on his book, and he'll punish you.

getting passionate about his interests? fuck in missionary so he can continue yapping as he toys with your clit and pounds into your throbbing cunt. his words are long lost on you—you don't even notice when his words start getting condescending.

"always gettin' in m'pants..." he grunts, the sound of skin slapping and mindless whimpers and mewls fill the room, "fuckin' slut, you tryin' to get pregnant? want me t'fill you? dirty whore..."

by the end of your ovulation phase, you might've definitely gotten knocked up, and his dick is no longer with us. (he still has his hands and face, ladies...)