#COD men x reader

[blingblong55]

Kinktober is OPEN MDNI/NSFW/18+

Please read through this post to understand what this event is about.

ALL REQUESTS WILL BE POSTED STARTING THE 1ST OF OCTOBER

What is Kinktober?

Kinktober is a writing challenge which takes part in the month of October. Any and all writers that do NSFW fiction can take part in this. From the 1st of October until the 31st, I will be writing the request/number you ask for. All smut content will and can vary from headcanons, one-shots, drabble and/or long fics -unless you ask of me to write a long fic- so if you are upset that your request wasn't written to be longer or shorter, please refrain from complaining, I've got 31 days full of smut and I can't deal with a complain bestie.

How does this work?

There are 30 kinks that you can choose from. As seen on the poster/picture, you must let me know which character you are requesting and a scenario but that is optional. Going back to the length of what you want me to write, you can ask for what form of smut you want. Ex. Headcanon, one shot, etc.. 

What characters can you request?

I have a somewhat extensive list of characters and the current list is here

Some more information:

If I have multiple requests for the same character and kink, I’ll choose just one request and tag all those else that asked for the same thing, (unless it is anonymous ofc). 

If I happen to have the same kink but request different characters, I will turn it into a head canon or what I see fit to please your hunger. 

If you want your character to be submissive/switch/dominant, you must state that in the request or I will choose. 

Remember to also write in whether you want your request to be F!/ GN!/M! Reader

Make sure to check my pinned post for the rules for making requests If you would like to use this exact list, make sure to let me know beforehand or message me

STAY KINK YOU WHORES

[cas-backwards-tie]

The 141 men and their favorite kisses

Warnings: None.

A/N: This is for @vikki-tikki-tavii , I hope you enjoy 💕 there’s no content warnings since I went sfw with this, but if you guys want more, you can always request it! 😉

Price: John loves to kiss the back of your hands. The epitome of gentleman, he can’t deny that ghosting his lips over the backs of your hands isn’t him stalling as it’s the only form of restraint he can bear. Then, it’s quick and firm forehead kisses, a sign of safety being able to take his time and plant it there, able to run his hands over your hair one last time before departing. It’s solid, secure, and something to remember each other by when he’s gone. Eventually his semblance slips and it’s quick and desperate kisses planted firmly against each other’s lips, a needed reminder that he’s home, and you’re both okay.

Ghost: With Simon it’s different; it starts out with touches, a faint run of his hand over the small of your back, a hand lingering on your shoulder. It’s hard to kiss with the mask, after all. His favorite place to kiss you is right beside your brow by your temple. Much like his superior, it’s a firm and comforting knowing that you’re there, and things are okay. You’re both safe. Intimately, it’s the knuckles. He’ll leaving tiny little pecks as his lips ghost (haha) over your knuckles as if trying to memorize every inch of your skin with his lips. Never does he want to forget the feel of you, his rock, in moments of need when motivation is slipping or he loses himself. Kisses with him are soft and tender, fleeting, yet full of sparks.

Gaz: Kyle can’t help it as he presses quick kisses to your cheek upon departure, the affectionate action leaving lasting emotions with the both of you. He’s gentle and sweet, often opting to kiss you anywhere and everywhere he can. He doesn’t have a preference between your forehead, temple, cheeks, nose, or lips when it comes to the menial moments. Anywhere he can plant a kiss and get a reaction out of you, he relishes. Though when and if he gets a say, his favorite would have to be your lips, most definitely. Taking the time to slow down and really feel the dance of your lips against one another? He relishes the traditional sentiment of your lips being reserved for only him, and him alone.

Soap: It happens without thought, the feelings and tension between the two of you snapping when he suddenly kisses your nose. He brushes it off as a silly thing, but it’s the place that he often loves to surprise you with by planting a quick peck on the tip of your nose. Always achieving a multitude of silly expressions and reactions. If he’s leaving, he’ll leave one hell of a kiss on your lips, the passion and fierce force of his strength seeping in as he leaves you with a reminder of just who you’ll be waiting for while he’s gone. While his favorite may be the back or side of your neck, it’s something he’s not often able to indulge in. Therefore, he settles, like his comrade, for anywhere and everywhere he can kiss you.

[issdisgrace]

I gift you guys this edit I came across on tik tok

[xmy-love-to-youx]

Pregnancy /w Simon 'Ghost' Riley

When you told your husband that you were expecting a baby, even with his mask on you could see the color drain from his face.

To anyone that knows him, knows that his most of the time silent but this silence between you both was something new. You couldn't tell if he was happy or not.

As time passed by, anxiety and fear gripped your heart and tears threatened to fall from your eyes. Children were a topic you haven't talked about yet, Simon made it clear he doesn't want children but you two never considered pregnancy a possibility even though you are on birth control.

You rushed to the bedroom, leaving Simon alone in the living room. He was silent, his mind was silent. The only sound that was heard was your muffled crying from the bedroom.

It wasn't long until he made his way to you, the sight of you curled up under the blankets, crying, broke his heart in a way he never knew was possible. He layed himself behind you and held you tightly against him.

He didn't know how to comfort you so he stayed silent and just held your petite body against his rough and larger body.

From that moment on, he stuck to your side. Still processing that you are carrying his baby, he would just stare at your belly. His battling internally with himself. One part wants to run away and the other is telling him to stay and fulfill his duties not just as a husband but as a soon to be father too.

With each month that passes by, he watches your belly expand and it's slowly became clear to him that the baby is a symbol of your love. He was first awkward about touching your pregnant belly.

"Can I?" he asks, his hands glued to the side of his body.

"Yes" you responded with your usual bright smile.

He hesitated and his eyes bounced around the room. You reached for his hand and placed his hand on the curve of your belly and just like that, he instantly fell in love.

Now he talks to his unborn child and gently pokes around just to get the baby to move, a chuckle leaves his lips when he sees the baby push against the inside.

"I can't wait to meet you"

"You know you and your mother are the best things that ever happened to me"

"You have a badass mother, you know that?"

"I'm going to protect you"

His the kind of guy who doesn't want to know the gender until the baby is born. He definitely spends every second with you during the pregnancy. Soap will definitely tease him for it but he doesn't care. His in love with his wife and his unborn baby and wants to be there all the time.

He definitely stops you from being on your feet for too long. He'll gently rush you out of the kitchen and into a chair. He will massage your feet and back without question.

Towards the end of the pregnancy, he was in pain, it's not physically pain. He's heart breaks when you are uncomfortable all the time, the back pains and the intense hormones.

When it was time to give birth, he was panicking more than his wife that's about to birth a tiny human. His with you every step of the way until it came time to push out the baby.

He held your hand and whispered words of encouragement to you, he thought he had everything under control until he peeked and saw his baby wiggling thier way out of you. His eyes widened with shock and he looked at you with those eyes. That's when he realized that your in more pain that it seems.

He snapped to reality when he heard his baby cry for the first time. It was like he spaced out as realization kicked in.

His a father.

When he held that tiny human in his arms, the tears just kept pouring from his eyes and he couldn't stop it. When he heard that his has a baby girl, he protectively held her close to him. He watched her sleep on his chest, skin to skin contact was important to him as he spoke gently to her.

"My little princess"

"My sweet little angel"

"Daddy's little girl"

"I'm gonna spoil you, ya? I bet you'd love that"

Since her birth, his been finding excuses to hold her. Throughout his whole life, he was traumatized and hurt, he had to be cold to protect himself but since you and your baby entered his life. He had a reason to fight, he had a reason to live.

Now, he looks at you with so much love in his eyes. You are his girls and he will always love you.

Please buy me Ko-fi to support me ❤

[sirenmoth]

Don't Poke The Bear

John Price x GN!Reader

Synopsis: Price is getting some much needed sleep, and decided you'd be joining him CW: Fluff, mentions of injuries, gambling, implied poly!141. maybe, idk

Surprisingly it was a less stressful day around base, most, if not all duties and chores were done by lunchtime or just after lunch, anything left could be done in a few minutes, so most people were putting off those in favour of a break to lounge in their rooms or to go off base for a drink. Soldiers from various ranks could be found mingling in their offices finishing off the last of their paperwork or in the barracks quarters just chatting and filling each other in on gossip that's been happening, some on calls to faraway family. You and the rest of the Task Force have been in the rec room since just after dinner time, all tasks and chores done for the day and all paperwork completed and submitted, you all decided to wind down until lights out, the only one not present was the Captain, still cooped up in his office saying ‘he wants to get ahead for tomorrow’, barely looking up when either of you checked in and asked if he was joining.

The prior mission was tough, though only a few weeks long, barely anyone made it out without a scratch or bruise or a sore muscle, everyone tired and ready to relax. All favoured staying on base instead of going out for a drink at one of the local pubs, you all looked like you were falling asleep standing up, even Ghost looked worse for wear. So the rec room became a makeshift commune hub for the four of you,

Ghost observed the sergeants game of pool, occasionally chiming in to their conversation and keeping both them and their game in check, tallying up the scores and announces who won the round. You were sat on the of the couch’s opposite the pool table, legs stretched out lengthwise and resting and elbow on the arm of the couch, mindlessly tuning in and out the of conversations the boys were having as you read your book, deciding now would a good time to finish after it was left forgotten on your bedside table. Every so often, you’d throw in a weak retort or a half mined response into the conversation that was happening around the pool table, smiling and quietly laughing at their jokes. Watching from over the book as the boys place down money as they resort the balls to the centre of the table. Soap loudly cussed after each lose, Ghost reorganizing the balls back into the centre of the table.

Just as Gaz was about to take his shoot, the rec room door opens to reveal a very disgruntled Captain, muttering under his breath about something none of you could hear. You all stop and look at him as he walks around the small kitchenette area to fix himself a cup of tea, none of you dare to say a word, the silence being filled by the sound of the kettle boiling. You all look at each other in a wordless attempt to try and get someone to speak up, but no one wanting to take the fall for if something happens.

“Are you ok, John?” You meekly ask, the other three men standing off to the side but ready to move if need be. Watching with a hawklike gaze as John leaned against the countertop, grabbing a mug from the cupboard once the kettle finishes boiling.

Price stops what he’s done, and it feels like time freezes before he continues with making his cuppa, turning around to face you on the couch with a glare, and you feel like death is ready to claim you. John stands as he slowly sips his tea, never taking is eyes off you, holding that ice-cold gaze over the steaming mug. After what feels like an entirety, he makes his way over to you, still glaring, you feel your heart pick up the closer he gets, until John is standing right in front of you, staring downwards, cup of tea held firmly in his grasp. The three men around the table shift uncomfortable on their feet as they wait for something to happen.

“Price? Is there something I can help you with?” You ask, swallowing a thick lump in your throat.

Still no answer, the only hint he heard you was when he placed the mug down on the long coffee table in front of the couch, then, without warning or notice, he falls forward onto you. You huff loudly due to the sudden weight placed on you, quickly holding your book up so it doesn’t get crushed under his weight. Staring down at the man now lying face first in your chest, frozen from the shock, you look up and the three men and silently ask for help, only to be greeted with confused glances and shrugs from them. All as confused as you are.

John snakes his arms around your waist, adjusting himself, and by proxy you, into a more comfortable position, he moves his head a little further up to the crook of your neck, places one of your legs on his hip, which he slides of his legs under to keep in position, his other leg stretched out and pins yours into the back of the couch, his arms wrapped tight around your midsection. You slowly move your arms down once Johns stopped moving, wrapping one around his shoulder so you can rest your book in between his shoulder blades and the other around his head, resting your hand on the back of it.

Quite giggles admitted from the far end of the rec room, only stopping when john mutters a loud but still barely audible ‘shut up, you muppets’.  That doesn't stop them from laughing at the situation you find yourself in or how their Captain is acting like a child with his favour teddy, keeping you in a tight grasp so you can't leave.

Going back to the paragraph you were reading, you mindlessly start flexing your fingers on the back of Prices’, small scratches over his scalp as you read the words on the page, a content grunt comes from the sleeping a mans throat and a grumble when you remove your hand to turn the page, sighing once you put it back against his scalp. Softly smiling as you continue to start reading the next chapter.

You turn out the game of pool between the others, completely engrossed into your novel to care, muscle memory takes over as you play with the short hair on John's head and flick through page after page of the book, completely engrossed with the plot. A soft buzz comes from the coffee table, ignoring it until you hear a repetition of buzzing emitting from it. Reaching over as best you could with a sleeping bear onto of you, the lockscreen opens to show several messages and an image from the group chat, unlocking your phone reveals the image as one of you and Price cuddling on the couch and the messages below commenting on the photo above.

Looking up at the three men, all smiling to themselves as they take more image, their pool game now ignored in favour of staring at the two of you. Looking back down at the man using you as a pillow, thinking to yourself that he’s never looked more peaceful as you put your phone back down and go back to reading your novel. Tuning out the quite laughs of the rest of your team in favour of enjoying the warmth of the sleeping captain.

[kiryoutann]

Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

Simon fucks you like a lover returned home from war.

Strong hands lifted you onto the kitchen counter; the sudden movement made you gasp before it was swallowed by his lips. He kissed with urgency, almost brutal in its intensity—tongue tracing each of your teeth, sucking lightly on yours as he tilted his head to continue deepening the kiss. You sigh—thighs clad in thin stockings clamp down on his hips, feeling his jeans against the inside of your knees.

Much like a stray dog ​​to an open door of a house. Like fangs on flesh. His entire digits are famished, looking for solace that seeps through your skin. He traces the curves of your body as if time is his biggest enemy and every second snatched is a victory.

You tangle your fingers in his blonde hair, pulling him to trail kisses down your jaw. His stubble scrapes your skin. Your pulse sped as you felt him begin making his way down your neck. Placing a hand against his solid chest, you pushed him away, creating a small distance between you.

“Wait,” you interrupted. “Please don't leave marks. I have practice early, and the director, he'll..." Your words trail off in a mumble.

The disappointed grunt that he lets out almost escapes your notice. “Right, can't be having that, now can we?”

Simon, in opposition to what he had said, leaned closer still and planted his lips in the hollow of your neck. It curved your back, drawing a breathy gasp out of you. His hand slides down to grip your ass, bringing you closer against the hard evidence of his arousal. Slowly, his fingers slipped under your sweater. He finds your breasts, giving one experimental squeeze before the second. Your head was thrown back as you let out a sigh.

“Fucking things,” Simon grumbled almost offended when he felt the barrier between his palm and your thigh – your stocking getting in the way. He lifted his head and looked at you, “Let’s get you out of this, yeah?”

A shy smile curves your kiss-swollen lips as you give him a nod. It was quite amusing, seeing a man his size so undone by a thin piece of fabric. You straightened your legs to make his job easier.

“Good girl,” he says, and your core throbs excitedly from the praise.

Simon rolled the stockings down your legs, calloused fingers rubbing over your shins. You hold your breath from the contact. As the lace is finally removed, your feet feel a sudden exposure to the coolness. You watched him slowly roll the stockings into a slim coil before placing them on the edge of the counter.

When he leans in close again and claims a spot between your spread legs, you take the chance like the sly fox that you are. Overpowered by the desire to feel him again, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a new kiss. Simon's teeth graze yours as he grips your curved spine and grinds his hips even harder into your soaked underwear. Needy moans spill from your throat.

Then your hands flew to his trousers, fumbling for the zip. Simon grabbed your wrist, ending the kiss, and pulled back just enough to see what you were going to do.

“What’re you up to?”

It's frustrating; he's frustrating. He knows what you're trying to do, yet he still asks, as if he's waiting for you to openly admit it. 

Biting your lip, you try, “I want to feel you.”

For a moment, he hesitates in consideration as he sweeps his gaze over your exposed position. Panic seized you for an instant. Just because you did it last time doesn't mean he's necessarily okay with doing it again. Perhaps your eager desire has clouded your judgment, and you wonder if all he wanted was some harmless make-out, nothing more.

“Turn around for me, love.” He rasps before you can speak again.

Your eyes flickered at his command. Giving a hesitant nod, you turned around; elbows resting on the cool granite beneath you. Your thighs clenched self-consciously.

Glancing over your shoulder, you ask in a small voice, “Like this?”

“Aye, just like that,” he replies, burning a hole in the back of your head.

Despite the sense of vulnerability that came with surrendering control, it ignited something within you. This trust you placed in a barely known man, this risk you took—was it bravery or recklessness? Like clay for his hands to shape, a canvas for his passion to paint. The thrill of not knowing in which way he would touch you set your pulse racing, making your heart beat faster with each passing moment.

When his fingers hook the waistband of your panties, you hold your breath. Slowly, he pulls the lace down your thighs, and you heat up with each new patch of skin revealed. By the time the fabric reaches your feet, you well realize you're a dripping mess—this tight, little hole begging for his touch, his mouth.

Gripping your thighs, he spreads your folds open before bending to place an open-mouthed kiss. You gasp, your back arching as he explores with his lips and tongue. His nails dig deeper holding your writhing form. The sounds that came out of you increased in pitch with each swipe and suck.

“Mmmfh—! Haah~! Simon!!”

Simon removed his lips from your cunt, replacing them by planting two digits into your silky hole. He's knuckle-deep in your heat. One thickly corded hand circles around your shoulders, aligning your soft curves to his hard chest. Your moans become more intense when his fingers curl inside you, opening you even further with slow, steady pumps.

It was a beautiful painting, and Simon weaved this moment by moment into his hippocampus. Your sweat-slicked hair. Your lips, he knew, were gaping with desire. The perfect cheek of your ass as he continues to hitch your skirt higher to access your swollen flesh further. All else is insignificant, though, when you utter his name aloud like a reverent preacher's prayer—this one has the ability to make his cock throb for attention beneath his jeans.

“Relax that gorgeous body for me, darling.” He whispered next to your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

The words he growled became indistinct as he continued to gently seal his lips around your earlobe. His inked hands embrace you tighter. White patches began to form in your mind; your breath came in short gasps. Your focus spreads before narrowing at the sensation of the knot threatening to untie in your lower stomach.

Quickly, Simon withdrew his fingers to work open his zip. Pulling out his cock, he clicked his tongue, seeing the glistening pre-cum on its tip. He was ready to sink home at last, to breach inside. However, his semi-conscious brain was spinning, knowing that he had forgotten something

"Shit, where's the rubber?" he asked.

“Don’t bother.”

Your murmur shocked both you and Simon. No sensible woman would risk it all just for a taste, and only the reckless would dare to bet on the possibility that carnal pleasures could bloom into something real. However, the words have been spoken, and only a coward would take them back. You never claimed to be the wiser. This oblivion is the only type of surrender that you can provide.

Simon doesn't seem to be all that different either.

In one deep thrust, he sheathed himself to the hilt, seating his thick girth in your tight channel. Simon could hardly contain the moan at the corner of his throat as your raw, exquisite heat enveloped him. His massive hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise as he tried to find his pace. As he began to move consistently, your throat remained tight and continued to drag out the strings of his name in the lewdest way.

Your thoughts were cloudy, centered solely on the feeling of his naked cock clamped between your walls. His wandering hand moves upwards, palming the swell of your breast through the sweater. But it isn't enough; he must feel you, skin to skin.

In one smooth motion, he hitches the garment up and slips it into your bra. With a practiced flick of his wrist, he released a plump breast, weighing the soft fat in his palm.

“Fucking perfect,” he said.

The sensation of fullness in your pussy shortens your breath. He rolls your nipple between his digits—his side entertainment as he continues his pounding.

Your spine forms a beautiful curve when he moves his finger to circle your clit. Each breathy sigh and needy mewl throbbed his cock. Your hand reaches back blindly—an invitation for him to come closer, and as a good guest, Simon accepts the siren's call by taking your earlobe between his teeth.

“So fucking wet for me, darling. You like having my cock buried deep, don’t you?”

“Mmh—! Yes, yes!”

A deep chuckle shook his chest. This little ballerina was so cock-drunk that she was unable to talk, behaving like her tongue was chained and her lovely lips could only produce vulgar moans. Flames burned higher and higher—the whole room caught fire. He feels a faint, growing throb within you before it becomes more pronounced and stronger.

Hesitant to stand on your wobbly legs, you surrendered and bent your back. Goosebumps crawl all over your body when the cool granite touches your sensitive breasts. The new angle gives Simon more access to redouble his efforts. He watched, delighted, as his fat cock disappeared between your folds, only to reappear slick and pulsing.

“Simon—ah! Simon- I’m—! Ohgodohgod..!”

A few more thrusts, and he feels your tight walls hugging his cock as it starts to flutter and ripple. Heat collects in your lower stomach. Short gasps of breath escape you as your heart races. With a keening wail, your climax bursts out in waves.

Simon tightened his hold on your hips as his own orgasm began to peak. Thinking through a thick fog of ecstasy, he reaches for the tissue at your side before pulling out of your quivering cunt and letting his angry tip finish on the material. The room fell silent again, with the exception of the refrigerator's gentle hum and the sounds of two people catching their breath.

Slowly, the fog of pleasure lifted. As his brain winds down, reality comes crashing back in. The poor woman is still draped over the counter, trying to calm her heaving chest. He hurriedly adjusted his trousers.

“Shit.”

At Simon's curse, you attempt to turn around, but your legs feel weak and shaky, unable to support your body's movement. Recognizing your struggle, he moves closer and settles his big hand to help you seat yourself on the edge of the counter.

“Should've wrapped it. Wasn't thinking straight.” He continued, apologetic underneath.

Reaching for a towel, he runs it under warm water before returning to you. At first, he was hesitant—not sure whether to give it to you or do it himself. He ends up dabbing it on your thighs. His brows were wrinkled in concentration as he cautiously swept the towel. You can't help but let out a giggle at that.

"Something funny?" he asked.

“Nothing,” you shook your head, still smiling. “I just never thought I'd see this side of you, is all.”

It's an unexpected turn of events, indeed. When the day began, you would never have predicted that you'd be seated on the kitchen counter with Simon gently cleaning you up with a damp towel, paying you such intimate attention.

This time, it was his turn to chuckle. Your heart nearly jumped out of your ribs when a pair of brown eyes met yours. “Yeah, well. Don't get used to it, alright?”

Simon gently put the towel aside. He rested his large hand on your thigh, squeezing it lightly. You swept your gaze over his face. He seemed tired—his eye bags were darker than before, and his blonde hair was slightly longer than when you last saw him. If he made any attempt to appear less zombie-like, it was through his recently shaven stubble. For a moment, the two of you remain silent, attempting to relish the comfortable quiet while his thumb traces idle patterns on your legs.

“I never thought I would see you again after that night,” you mutter timidly.

Simon doesn't say anything. The weight of his gaze still remained on you, as if he knew you had more words to say. And he's right. There's this itchy question scratching at the back of your throat, demanding to be answered.

All this time, where did he go? Where did his long strides carry him in those months, when failure was the only thing you found every time you tried to look for him? Did he return to some house tucked away in the countryside? Is there anyone else with the privilege to claim his time – a family, or worse, a lover you won't be able to compete with? You ache to understand what took him from you and what pulled him back into your orbit.

"Where did you go?" The words stumbled out in a rush before you could stop yourself.

At your question, something shifted in his gaze, but it was gone before you could decipher it any deeper. Simon transferred his weight to his other leg.

“Got deployed.” The only answer he can provide.

"Oh." You breathe, almost to yourself – the reality of Simon's life settles upon you once again.

Your eyes scan him intently, observing every visible part of him with a new sense of awareness. His face remains unharmed. The backs of his hands bore no new marks. His neck is also untouched.

“Are you hurt anywhere?”

But, you ask anyway, wanting—needing reassurance that the t-shirt he's wearing isn't concealing any fresh injuries he has brought home, that no part of his body is in need of healing.

“Just a few bumps and bruises, is all. Comes with the job.”

He responded in a casual manner, showing little to no care for his well-being. It was as if this was normal—and, in fact, it is for him. He knows that every mission he takes could be his last, so coming out with just a few bumps and bruises sounds like a pretty good aftermath.

But still, you want to be the judge of that. After all, being able to endure it does not mean he is obligated to withstand it. You want to see it for yourself, to actually assess the extent of his injuries and make sure they're as minor as he claims.

As he begins to pull away, you feel a surge of panic at the thought of him leaving. Without thinking, the words tumble from your lips: “Wait!”

Simon froze immediately, turning questioning eyes on you. You bit your lip, looking for an excuse to prolong your time together. Your gaze falls on the cabinet where you keep your coffee grounds, two packs of Earl Grey tea, and a bottle of foreign drink.

“I don’t know much about bourbon,” you admitted, hoping he could decode the meaning beneath your lines. “But I think I bought the one you liked.”

He left the offer hanging as he searched your gaze for something. Your heart pounds a frantic rhythm against your ribs. Please understand what I ask of you—stay for a bit longer. There's a heavy longing that lives in my chest, and it's weighing me down to the floor. The night is too cold for me to feel that undefined ache alone. Please, please, please—

However, whether he got the message or not became unimportant when he gave the answer.

"Alright then, pour us a drink."  

@strawberrygato

SUPPORT ME THROUGH KO-FI! CHECK MY WRITING COMMISSION. SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS HERE.

[drmaddict]

Free by Choice

Summary: Simon and (Y/n) don't want children. After his vasectomy, (Y/n) realizes how much the fear of becoming a father has inhibited him.

Wordcount: 1.010

She had never experienced Simon like this before.

"The tests look good. If you want to, you have green light."

As neither of them wanted children, Simon had decided to have a vasectomy.

As he had never had a relationship before and sex wasn't really a big issue, he had never given it much thought, but that had changed.

(Y/n) didn't want children either. They're cute as long as you can give them back. She was more than willing to be 'just' the cool aunt.

The decision was final for both of them. The pill worked, but this way (Y/n) could finally stop taking it and no one had to worry anymore.

"Good means absolutely safe?"

"Yes, Mr. Riley. Your last semen sample was positive... or rather negative."

Simon just nodded and held out his hand. The doctor tried to grab it, but Simon slapped it away and pointed to the papers.

The doctor handed them to him with a slight blush on his cheeks.

Simon skimmed the pages and nodded with satisfaction.

"Thanks, doc.", he mumbled.

The doctor nodded. "If there's anything, just let me know."

It wasn't until the evening, when they were both lying on the sofa, that it started. Simon began to gently kiss her jaw, letting his hands wander under her shirt.

If only she had known then, what was in store for her.

Three hours later she wasn't really sure, whether she still had a functioning brain cell. She was lying on her stomach, exhausted and drooling on the bed. She hadn't really come down from her last high when she felt Simon's lips on her back again. Her breath caught. Simon moaned with pleasure and a little laugh underneath. "Just one more little mouse. Seven is a lucky number.", he whispered in her ear and bit tenderly into the shell of her ear.

The next morning, everything hurt. Her thighs were covered in bite marks. Her back was a mess. Her neck felt like her thighs looked and all in all, she was mostly sore. No matter how gently Simon had rubbed her with ointment.

Surprisingly, he was still sleeping next to her. Usually he would have been up and away by the time she got up. He had already trained and made breakfast, but today he was lying on his pillow, slumbering, with a cute little pout on his lips.

She turned to him with a smile. What had gotten into him? They'd had good sex, but this? Despite being on the pill, he always insisted on using a condom. He usually never came more than once inside her. Despite everything, he often pulled out and came on her. She had just assumed he was into it, but after last night?

Had he been so afraid of having a child? Had this procedure taken such a weight off his shoulders?

He moves slightly.

His eyes opened slowly.

"Morning," he mumbled.

"Morning," she simply replied.

He rubbed his face and stretched. "Fuck. My back." he grumbled.

She laughed. "Serves you right."

He didn't answer that.

She snuggled against his shoulder. He buried his nose in her hair.

"You realize, you have to carry me everywhere today, right?"

"Hm. Anywhere you want."

"Why didn't you do this before, if it was weighing you down so much?"

He closed his eyes again. "I have a therapist for that kind of talk.", he mumbled.

She punched him lightly on the shoulder. "I'm serious."

He sighed. "I've never had a relationship and the one night stands were rare and sporadic." He shrugged. "Wasn't necessary up to this point. Sorry, if it was too much."

She kissed his shoulder. "It's okay. Just remember that, when I get ugly, after I get off the pill."

"Why would you get ugly?"

"Hormonal acne and hair loss are definitely coming."

He grinned. "I've been through the meat grinder once and you're worried about a few pimples?"

She pouted. "That's a sensitive subject."

He tousled her hair, "I'll help you squeeze them out, too."

She smacked him on the chest with a grin and no emphasis. He laughed.

Five months later

Simon looked at the nutritional supplement packs that had been piling up in her kitchen for the last few months.

(Y/n's) skin had rebelled briefly, but the worst of it seemed to have subsided. For two weeks, she had been in so much pain because of the inflammation under her skin that she had sometimes stood in the shower crying.

Simon had given her every bath that could even help in the least.

But now, two months later, it had subsided. Things seemed to be settling down, even if they weren't perfect yet. She had an appointment with her beautician today and Simon had thankfully stayed at home.

He was reading the newspaper, when he heard the front door open and close again.

(Y/n) came into the small kitchen. Her skin was still shiny from some cream, but she seemed to be glowing somehow.

Unimpressed, she threw her bag onto a chair and sat astride his lap. She immediately pressed her lips to his and wrapped her arms around his neck. Taken by surprise, he tried to figure out what was going on when she pulled at his shirt. He had no idea what was about to happen.

Hours later, he lay wrung out on the bed, breathing heavily.

"I want another round. When can you manage that?"

"Today?" He looked at her in shock. She nodded.

He looked up at the ceiling, shocked. "Nothing happens here for the next three to five business days."

She looked at him, pouting.

"What's gotten into you?" he asked, pulling her hand towards him, which was already exploring again.

"Not only is my skin fourteen again, but it looks like my libido is too."

"But I'm no longer fourteen mouse... My jaw hurts... And my back."

She grinned. "Will you at least take a bath with me?"

"At least? That was eight rounds!"

"Nine is a lucky number."

"Oh Fuck."

[firsttimewriter92]

Sweet boy König angst to fluff, I would love him to be protective with reader who got knocked out and him at the hospital 😭🥹

Hey sweet anon :) Based on your ask and popular demand here is a very angsty fic about you being injured and König losing his damn mind. I may or may not went a little overboard ;) So, prepare for all the angst/hurt/comfort you can handle :P It´s SFW.

Your code name is Queeny

König x f!reader

Summary: You get seriously injured and König is losing his mind. He wasn´t able to tell you yet! Would he ever get the chance to now?

Word count: 3.294

Warnings: Hurt, angst, hurt/comfort, injuries, blood, medical talk, devestated König but all the fluff in the end

“Somebody help!!!!” His panicked yells were muffled by the rushing in your ears, by the steadily slower beating of your heart, by the roaring of fire and breaking rubble all around you. It was chaos. What´d happened? One moment you were with your team, scouting for vantage points above the main battle area and the next, Boom!! Heat had encased your body as it fell. Pressure from falling concrete and steel on your chest and legs almost burying you. Why? Why was there an explosion? The enemy didn’t even make it to the area where you wanted to ambush them yet.

“Ghost! Soap! Help me!!” That voice…That booming voice. König. He never sounded like that…desperate, devastated. Your sight was blurry when you tried to open your eyes. They were so heavy. Not even adrenalin helping you stay awake. This was bad. Very bad. König…you heard hurrying footsteps and yells before some of the pressure was lifted from your legs. They felt cold and wet. Must be blood your foggy brain mused.

“No, no, no, no, no, Queeny! Eyes open, keep them open, Liebling, please!! Lt, that one! The one on her chest. I can pull her out!”

“König, calm down, we don’t know how injured she is. We can´t just lift the damn thing” you heard your Lt shout. “We have to! I´m not leaving without her!” Your heart tried to swell at König´s words. He was a sweetheart if you got to know him. Scary as all hell on the battlefield but couldn’t hurt a fly when not on duty. Your eyes tried to focus on him. His sniper hood was right above you. The whites of his eyes so clearly visible you knew how wide open they must be. His pale blueish green irises held a look of pure devastation as he gazed down at you. Strong hands held your neck in place as piece after piece of rubble was carefully removed from your lower body. The pressure and weight on your chest and abdomen however held it´s deathly grip on you.

You knew you were bleeding out from somewhere. Your hands were cold, you heart didn’t beat as quickly as it should. Your own medical experience kicked in and you knew your chances were slim if evac didn’t arrive in the next two minutes.

“-loosing too much blood. Evac, this is Ghost. How copy?” We´re out three minutes, Lieutenant. How´s the situation? “Critical!! Hurry your arses up!” You heard a gurgling sound from König´s throat above you and wished more than anything to be able to give him just one more book recommendation, to make one more cup of tea with him in the middle of the night, one more time be able to see his face. You couldn’t even touch him. His hands on the side of your neck began to shake.

“Lt” he said in a chocked up voice. “Ghost…we need to get her out from under there! When evac arrives we need to leave within the minute.”

“He´s right, Lt. We have to try” Soap on your other side sounded worried beyond measure. A deep sigh came from your superior. “Fuckin´ hell!” he hissed. “Right, Soap. Hand me that rod, I´m goin´ to use it as a lever. Help König pull her out as soon as there´s room, got it? If we don´t try she dies anyways.” You almost chuckled at the bluntness of your Lt. He was a character, for sure, but you´d lay your life in his hands without hesitation. You´d already done so multiple times. Just like today.

Faintly you heard a helicopter landing in front of the destroyed building you were in. Slowly the pressure on your chest vanished bit by bit and by the time you felt two sets of hands pull you from the rubble, you made some throaty noises of relief. That was before the pain shot through your torso, down the length of your spine and into your legs.

A scream erupted from your throat you didn’t know you still had the strength for. Your ribs felt like they had been pulverized, your skin bruised and ripped, your muscles crushed, your bones broken.

Before you saw the evac team run in your direction the only thing you could hear was König´s raw, pleading voice. “Queeny, hold on. I know, Liebling. I know, I know it hurts. You´re going to be fine, mein Schatz. Bitte…” Your heart was screaming for him, wanting to let him know what you felt. What you had hidden away since the first time you saw him. What he truly meant to you. But your vision blurred. Blackness slowly creeping up on you as babbled, quiet pleas left his trembling lips. “Bitte…not her, please. ___, stay awake. Bleib bei mir, bitte! (Stay with me, please)”

The last thing you felt was his clammy hands leaving your body as Ghost and Soap both were needed to pull him away from you so the evac team could start their work. By the time you had lost consciousness, König was on his knees, bending over and screaming his devastation and helplessness into the concrete on which he had collapsed on. Both his arms now loosely hanging from Ghost´s and Soap´s grip standing next to him. Both men watching with empathy how their teammate broke and evac hurried you away before pulling König to his feet. “Get up, König. Come on, man! Start walking. She needs you” Soap said sternly as he pulled on König´s limp arm. He seemed to snap out of it and got up, forcing his long limbs to move and scramble after you.

Back in the helicopter the medics did everything they could to stabilize you. Throwing medical terms at each other and trying to stop your various injuries from bleeding. “She´s losing too much blood. Get me a transfusion. What´s her blood type?” One of the medics reached for your dog tags and inspected them. “O-negative” he said. “Fuck” another one said and reached for the transfusion bags. “We only have one bag left, that´s not going to be enough to get her to the hospital.”

König´s insides froze and nausea filled his stomach. Before he could dissolve into despair yet again though, Ghost caught his attention and patted his chest where his dog tags lay, pointing at König after doing so. Quickly, the Austrians gears kicked into motion and he spoke up.

“I ´m O-negative. Use my blood!” The medic´s head whipped around and he contemplated for only a second. “No other choice. Let me see your tags.” König kneeled down next to him and pulled at the chain around his neck. “O-negative, got it! When was your last check up?” König didn’t hesitate. “Right before this mission. Two weeks ago. Came back clean.” The medic seemed relieved and nodded. “Henderson, prepare a direct transfusion. Hurry.”

They managed to keep your heart beating until the heli landed on top of the nearest military hospital. You were ushered to the ER so quickly, König still had the needle stuck in his arm as he jumped out after you. Ghost and Soap had to hold him back yet again.

Hours later, König still sat in the waiting room in front of the doors of the ER. Hunched over and feeling so lost his whole body was minutes away from giving out on him. Ghost and Soap had been called back to base for a briefing with Captain Price. He was the one that ordered König to stay at the hospital and inform them regularly about your condition. The thing was, nobody bloody told him anything!

You´d been in the operating room for nearly six hours now and no nurse or doctor would give him any information. He was slowly going mad. He´d managed to overthink every single second of that morning when they first arrived on site. Were there signs of the explosive? Could he have seen it? How did they know they were going to be there? Why wasn´t it him on that operating table right now? Why? Why? Frustration consumed him at this point and angrily he pulled at his sniper hood, revealing his slightly too long auburn hair and smudged face. He couldn’t care less at this point.

His cold hands were still shaking by the time the doors opened again several hours later. 10 hours, 42 minutes to be exact. A very exhausted surgeon steered his way over to König. His hood fell from his hands to the ground in slow motion as he got up from the uncomfortable chair.

The surgeons eyes were rimmed with dark circles and he sighed deeply, ruffling his hair. “No” König whispered and tears sprung to his eyes immediately. “Nein, bitte nicht. Bitte nicht. (No, please no. Please no.)” His own hands grabbed the strands on his head. The hair you loved to ruffle, the hair that reminded you of the setting sun, you´d once said. “We managed to close the most dangerous wounds and stopped the inner bleeding. Patched up her broken leg. Her foot…her foot was difficult to repair. She´s going to need extensive physical therapy… if she wakes up. I´m sorry, we had to induce a coma. She´d lost so much blood that we fear her brain might have been without enough oxygen for too long. Only time and her own strength will tell now.”

“But…she´s alive?” König asked with a shaking voice. The surgeon nodded. “Yes, she´s alive. Breathing on her own as well. It´s a waiting game now.”

_____________________________________________________

And König waited. Waited days, weeks, months. Every free minute he could spare he spent at your side. Slowly watching your body heal and yet, the coma remained. He brought you flowers, read you stories and talked to you as much as he could. Somedays he just sat by your side and quietly let the tears fall. He missed you. He missed you with an intensity he never knew. His chest constricted every time he was sent on another mission and knew it would be several days until he saw you again. He missed your voice. Your funny little quips and encouraging words whenever his nervousness took hold of him again. You always had a way of calming him down.

It didn’t take him long to appreciate your beauty as well. How could he not? He was just a man. When you weren´t deployed, you spent your time together on base with training, reading, watching movies and drinking tea. He knew he had developed feelings for you when he noticed he couldn´t really spar with you anymore like he used to. He´d be more careful not to come at you too forcefully (a fact about which you had nearly ripped him a new one) and when he´d overwhelmed you yet again, pinning your frustratedly huffing body to the training mat, he´d realized with a stuttering pulse how warm your body was. How pliant and soft your flesh was, how your chest was heaving. He really tried to not make it a problem. Feelings in your line of work weren´t exactly a good idea. Teamwork and all that, sure. Could safe your ass. But romantic feelings were a problem.

To his despair he didn’t even have the time to tell you about his feelings. About how much they´d grown, how much you meant to him. He just wanted more time. If it meant he couldn’t work for the military anymore…he´d find something else. Maybe in the private sector…if it meant he could be with you. If it meant he had more time. But once again being caught in a dream world he was transported back into that hospital room. Quietly sobbing and dwarfing your hand in his while he watched your still sleeping form.

“They´re going to try and wake you up tomorrow, Liebling” he said with a tight voice, trying to smile. “They did some tests and your brain reactions seem to have stabilized.” König rubbed his thumb over your hand. He stood up, leaning over you. With careful fingers he stroked the side of your face lovingly. “You´re fighting so well, Queeny. You´re truly a warrior. So much more than any of us” his voice cracked at the end. He leaned down and pressed his tear streaked lips to your forehead, whispering against it. “Bitte, Queeny. Bitte komm zurück und sag´ mir jeden Tag, dass meine Haare zu lang werden. (Please, Queeny. Please come back and tell me every day that my hair is getting too long) I´ll do anything to hear your voice again.”

__________________________________________________________

The next day, König sat in the waiting room again, this time surrounded by Soap, Ghost and Price. None of them wanted to miss this. The doctors had given you the right medication to wake you up and now, everyone waited in various stages of nervousness. Ghost leaned against the wall stoically, his arms crossed over his massive chest. Price was reading some report to distract him, murmuring something under his breath and Soap sat a few chairs away from König, gnawing on his thumbnail. König however was a mess. At some point either Price´s, Ghost´s or Soap´s gaze were on him just to make sure he wouldn’t topple over.

His face was even paler than it usually was. His eyes red rimmed and deep dark purple shadows beneath them. No wonder, the man hadn’t slept properly in months. Price turned his head to him. The Captain was not at all unaware of what was going on with the younger soldier. Heavens he knew how difficult it was to maintain any kind of relationships within the military. And yes, his own marriage had made him more receptive to how König felt and how he could help him instead of telling him off. He couldn’t imagine having to deal with his wife being in a coma. He´d go insane. So he just reached out and patted König roughly on the shoulder. He didn’t much react except for a little hiccupping sound. Cold sweat was running down his neck while his hand shook like leaves.

After what felt like hours, one of the nurses came into the waiting area and König swallowed loudly, staring her down. She did seem a little nervous when she saw the intense stare with which he pinned her to the spot. “She´s asking for you, sir” she squeaked and nodded towards him. “That is, if you´re König?” A short breath escaped him quickly. “It worked?” he whispered disbelievingly. “She´s fine?” The nurse smiled and beckoned him to follow her. On shaky legs he tried to put one foot in front of the other.

Inside your room, several doctors made sure your reflexes were normal and your breathing stable. You felt so groggy. Your memory only coming back in little pieces. An explosion, rubble, smoke, pain.

“König” you whispered for the sixth time since you woke up. “He´ll be here shortly. Focus on breathing” the doctor said in a calm voice. “Your vitals look very good,___. You´ll need a lot of rest but you pulled through.”

You nodded your head. You´re alive. Alive. Able to speak, to move, if very sluggishly. König.

The door opened and there he was. His huge frame coming through the door, ducking slightly when he stepped through the doorframe. He looked horrible and your heart squeezed for your love. You held out your hand to him. “Stand up straight” you croaked with a dry throat and smiled. You only saw a whirl of auburn, pale skin and black clothing before he was leaning over you holding your face in between his shaking hands. “Queeny” he breathed. “You came back, mein Schatz.” His tears fell down the tip of his nose. You lay a hand on his and smiled up at him. “Don´t cry, König. I´m here. I´m here, my love.” A strangled sob escaped him as he carefully sat down next to you on the bed and buried his face in your neck. The doctors and nurses had all left at this point. You tried to calm him down as best you could. Humming melodies and stroking his hair soothingly.

Minutes later his tears vanished and he sat up again, looking at you a little embarrassed. You just grinned a little and stroked his face. “Missed you” you said. He took a deep breath and nodded. “Me too, Liebling. Missed you so much. I´m so happy you´re back. I was so worried” König´s eyes were trained on your face. Your heart swelled. “I´m sorry, mein Großer (my big boy). I´m sorry I worried you. I should´ve-“ “No” he said resolutely and leaned his forehead against yours, breathing you in. “You fought for months, Queeny. You fought your way back! What happened was not your fault.” Your own eyes stung with tears. “It was nobodies fault” you said. “König, I was so scared. I was so scared I wouldn’t get to tell you.” He lifted his head again looking at you wondrously. He nodded in understanding. The way you looked at him had no other outcome than you having the same feelings. He swallowed. “Tell me now” he whispered in a hopeful voice.

“I love you” you said with all the truth in your heart. He looked like a massive boulder had been removed from his chest and he was breathing for the first time. Touching every single inch of skin on your face with shaking fingertips he nodded and again tears fell down his cheeks. When you wiped them away he said “Me too. I love you so much, mein Engel.”

With that you pulled him down by his neck and kissed him happily. He responded in kind immediately, a little groan escaping his mouth. His soft lips on yours, you felt like the whole world could just bugger off. This was all you needed. All you wanted. This gentle giant kissing you so lovingly and with such care it almost felt like not enough. “König” you whispered against his lips. “König, I´m not made of sugar. Fuckin´ kiss me.”

With your permission he grabbed the back of your neck and pressed his lips so desperately onto yours, you finally felt alive. He opened his mouth slightly and not hesitating you pushed your tongue against bis lower lip. König whined as he tangled his tongue with yours, really kissing you with earnest and all the relieve he felt. “I love you” he said between kisses. “Queeny, ich liebe dich. (I love you) I want to be with you no matter what it takes. I´m yours.”

Your arms wound themselves around his torso as a tear ran down the side of your face.

A throat cleared itself from the doorway and reluctantly König detached from you. He threw a nasty look over his shoulder but pulled up his shoulders when he saw his Captain and Teammates were standing at the foot of your bed. They too wore very relieved expressions.

“Glad you´re alright,___” your Captain said with his signature smile. You laughed lightly and sent a watery smile and many thank you´s towards your Team. All the while König was still holding you, looking at you adoringly. “You´ll need extensive physical therapy, the doc said” Price continued. You nodded your head. Price saw the change in you. He wasn’t exactly thrilled at what was coming but he understood completely. He warned Soap and Ghost beforehand. “With all due respect, Captain. Ghost, Soap….” You took König´s hand in yours and looked up at him smiling brightly. He had a confused expression on his face but grinned none the less, showing his canines. You turned back to your Team, smiling happily and shrugging a little bit.

“I quit.”

_______________________________________________________

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed :)

I would be very happy if you´d react to this post. Likes, Comments and reblogs are always appreciated and loved. Thank you so much <3

[inncubus-honey]

fantasy c.o.d men au

a/n: a new fandom! maybe, just depends how much I write about mw2. also the nicknames are for a gn! reader, despite some being more feminine then others, but these are for a gn reader. I hope y'all like it for another fandom writing apart stray kids and now kinda redacted stuff. feedback is always appreciated. also I added references to some games with the weapon choices for the boys. hehehe.

also I hope it makes sense that the fantasy aspect is their weapons and little blurbs with you in the world; I could always expand on it in another post if y'all want to see it

c.o.d men x gn! reader

Word Count: 3.2k

price- longsword

obviously he uses a longsword. hes been on the royal guard since he was a young boy, like 13-16. his father had been part of the royal guard when he was a boy. he thought it was the coolest thing ever; protecting people and using such a great weapon really drove him to join after his fathers death in battle. but he then left the guard with gaz to help around the country as mercenaries.

you bandaged johns arm as he sat with you grumbling. an injury from training with his boys today; johnny got a little rambunctious with his duel daggers.

“fucking crazy kid…but hes slowly improving..” john grumbled as you wrapped his arm up.

“hes just excited about joining the mystical 141 mercenary group. give him some slack, Captain.” you teased back, finishing the wrapping. he scoffed at your comment and put his armor back on.

“well, hes a little too zealous at times…but i can tell he’ll be good for the team.” john stood from the med bed and re-equipped his sword to his sword. he smirked at your figure moving around and cleaning up the medical supplies.

he walked up behind you, giving a series of fluttering kisses to your neck as his arms wrapped around your waist.

“ive missed all day, love…” he whispered to you as you placed your hands atop his. he had been training with 141 while you had been seeing patients all day.

“me too, captain.” 

ghost- spymaster

the spymaster of the 141 mercenaries. john recruited ghost when he saw him stalking upon roofs around the town at night. when morning came, john found him at a pub in a dark corner as he watched everyone. when he sat down with him and got to talking, he learned that at that point he was a hitman for hire. he decided to put his skills to good use.

“simon, darling come to bed, please i miss my lover…” you looked over to his larger figure in the corner, arms crossed and staring at you from his hiding spot. a smirk graced his lips at your words when your eyes met.

“was wonderin’ when you’d notice me, sunshine…” uncrossing his arms with a small chuckle, simon made his way towards your shared bed.

“well, i was wondering when you would come by yourself, darling.” simon smirked at your comment, taking off his gear to settle in for the night. 

before you could do anything else, simon pulled you forward by the back of your legs, plopping down onto your chest. he let out a low groan as you gave a small chuckle, putting your hand in his short blonde locks.

“goodnight, darling..” a quick kiss to his forehead.

“night, sunshine..” he was out like a light.

soap- dual daggers

chaotic good of the party. will go in killing everyone crazy or be the sneakiest rogue ever and be in and out. he joined the 141 before simon; he sought out price and gaz as they were looking for recruits and went around the kingdom looking for them. he wanted to join them ever since hearing them and how they stopped the gas poisonings by general hadir, the brother of general farah who was an ally of the 141.

“dear…you are going to give me grey hairs.” soap dangled from the rope after stepping the trap as you ventured in the woods. he was fighting the rope with grunts and trying to cut with his dagger, but falling short as he would miss and fall back down.

“well whoever grunt...set the fucking trap knew what they grunt doing…” following the rope with your eyes, you found the anchor for it by a tree which led you to walk and cut it.

soap landed onto the ground with a grunt and cough as he got a bit winded by the action. with a roll of your eyes, you walked over to where soap laid and helped him up and dusted him off.

“thank you, buttercup. now lets go home, so we can spend some time alone…” he gave you a smirk as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and yall started walking in the direction of yalls cottage. 

“mmhmm…did your ribs bruise again?” you raised an eyebrow at him as yall walked side by side.

“maybe…” he coughed out as his other arm went to support his ribs.

“absolutely, they hurt a lot…” he whined with a chuckle out of you as you shook your head and continued walking as soap whined the whole way.

gaz- rift mage

gaz met price as he was an apprentice of the royal court mage. price would eat with gaz whenever they could, price taking gaz under his wing when they left the kingdom; gazs family disowned him upon discovering he had magic. price taught him how to fight with a weapon in case he could not use his magic. over the time of their travels, gaz felt more comfortable about his natural abilities and not hiding them as much.

“come on, my little spitfire…” gaz gave a slight tug at your sleeve as you stood in the library, sorting the books with a big pout on his lips. the 141 had an off week, but you had to work some days of the week. gaz huff as you moved from shelf to shelf, following behind like a lost puppy.

“gaz, im almost done. just a few more minutes, darling..” chuckling as gaz groaned and threw his back. after finally finishing placing the last books away, you grabbed your things and found gaz asleep in a chair near the back of the shop. his head sloped down onto his chest with his arms crossed over his chest. 

holding in a chuckle, you walked over to him, gently shaking his shoulder to wake him up. 

“gaz, darling, im done lets go home…” you whispered to him, gaz slowly started to stir in the chair, stretching his arms out with a yawn and looked over at you.

“im ready and awake, spitfire, i swear-yawn” standing up with a pop in his back, gaz hooked his arm around your waist and led yall out of the bookstore back to your shared home for the rest of the afternoon. an occasional yawn escaping gazs mouth earning a small giggle from you.

alex- bardice

a bardiche is kind of pole-arm, which alex was a god at using. he picked up the pole-arm when couldnt do close combat anymore after losing his leg; he opted for long range combat afterward. he joined after price and gaz help him and general farah with hadir, he wanted to help people and bring justice like them. 

watching alex pull back the bardiche only to stab into the training dummy again and again was something you could watch all day. sitting on one of the many hay bales around the training center, you were doing your own thing by doodling alex in many poses with his pole-arm. he saw out of the corner of his eye with a smirk as you moved your pencil around the page.

“getting my good side, dearest?” he smirked to you, leaning against the pole-arm as he used a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe away the sweat from his forehead.

“every side is your good side, alex.” you smiled back, shutting the book and walking over to alex who was also shirtless at the moment. afterall it didnt hurt to use your boyfriend for anatomy practice; slyly you smiled at him while placing your hands on his sweaty chest. his muscles moved up and down with deep breaths as he took you in his tired and aching arms. 

“im glad my dearest thinks so. i dont just work out to keep good at fighting…its also for you, dear..” his breathy voice whispered in your ear, his mustache tickling your neck as he left light, fleeting kiss up and down. snorts and squeaks left you as you tried to push away alex who only brought you in closer to his larger frame.

“a-alex! stoop..that-haha- t-tickles!” the shrill laughs left you, alex only stopping to let out gravelly chuckles in your ear. but soon, he thankfully did stop the tickles and swayed you both back and forth a bit.** **aqua lovesick eyes bore into yours, ones that you could spend an entity in.

“i love you, dearest..” alex vowed to me.

“i love you most, alex.” i vowed back to seal it with a kiss.** **

keegan- scythe

the ghosts were also a traveling group of mercenaries, only being found at night in pubs when people were looking for them. keegan was known for his large scythe attached to his back and the skull face paint that decorates his face during missions. he joined the ghosts when after he was with another mercenary group called vipers.

“it smells good in here, firefly.” keegans arms wrapped around your waist as you chopped up some vegetables for a stew for dinner. you saw more bundles of wheat on the table as keegan rested his head in your neck.

“thank you, kee. i have bread in the oven from all the wheat you keep cutting.” i smirked at him as he placed his scythe against the wall near the front door. as you placed the vegetables in the pot and mixed everything together. 

“we should start selling wheat, kee. i can only make so much bread a week before i start hating the taste.” a chuckle left him as you stirred the pot and he took a seat at the table. he rested his head on his palm, calloused from years of use of the scythe, aqua eyes watched your figure as you moved about in the kitchen. 

“maybe we can sell the bread you make; people would come in hoards for your bread.” keegan smirked as you dished up the now ready stew and brought over two bowls to the table. he loved how domestic life was with you; one of the few constants in his life. the ghosts and you were always there for him, it took him awhile to get to use it after the vipers.

but, damn, he wouldnt trade this for anything in the world.

“firefly… i love you alot. i would do anything for you, i hope you know.” smiling, you reached out your hand and grabbed his hand, softly rubbing your thumb across the back of his hand.

“i know, dear. i would do the same for you, keegan; i love you more.” you told him back, a toothy grin spread across his lips as there was a light pink dusting across his cheeks, it made him look cuter.

“i know, firefly…now lets eat.” he pressed a quick kiss to your lips before yall dug into the delicious looking stew.

roach- necromancer

not being able to speak never bothered roach; his parents used sign language with him while others wrote notes if they did not know. roach always felt like no one could really understand him despite everything he could say or show. in his emotions, he always felt limited when it came to that. until joining the 141; they always seemed to read him better than others. price knew he was hungry for certain foods in taverns, but didnt know if they had it or not. ghost always knew when roach needed more ink or another book for his spells. gaz and soap would be there him when he was looking around booths in the village and people would try to scam him because he was mute.

roach was sitting at the tavern table, scribbling down notes he needs for spells and the ingredients needed for those spells. you were up at the counter ordering some mead and roasted stew that he always wanted. when the order was confirmed, you started making your way back to yalls table when you saw a group of patrons around roach; poking him and shoving as he sat there and tried to ignore them.

rushing over him and the group, pushing the men away from him and he guarded his book with his body.

“leave him alone! what gives you the right to bother him?” you shouted as you stood in front of the table. the group of patrons scowled as you pushed them away from your partner.

“he practices witchcraft! the worst kind of all; necromance. he needs to leave!” they shouted back at you as your hands rested on your hips, looking equally as mad at them.

“has he done anything to you? made any rude gestures? sent some ghost your way?” raising a brow at him, waiting to see what his answer would be. the man's mouth fell ajar, eyes rapidly blinking as he looked around for something to say.

“well..n-no, but its unnatural-!” you cut him off by raising a hand up to him as he tried to sputter out an answer.

“but nothing. he has every right to be in here as much as you do, so leave him alone before i make you.” you shoved your finger into his chest, making him stumble backwards as his eyes continued to widen as your words. his face paled, gave a huff and he walked off with his group behind him.

looking back at roach, you walked over to him and took his face in your hands looking over him for any possible scrapes or bumps from the patrons roughhousing him. as your eyes trailed over his soft face, roach placed his hands over yours. he gave a soft smile and slow nod as if to answer your question. 

‘im fine, precious. no injury, just took my quill.’ hitting his thumb with a closed fist against his chest then making his hand sideways as he spread his fingers apart then moving his fingers against one another. then moving in front of him, taking his fist from behind his ear and down to hand you understood what he meant.

‘are you sure?’ you signed back which made his smile wider as he brought you down next to him and pressed a kiss to your lips which made your concern melt from your face. you pressed one back to him as you placed your head on his shoulder and he got back to writing in his spell book.

alejandro- dadao

alejandro and rudy were allies and honorary members of the 141. they were a traveling duo looking to help where they could, like the 141; alejandro always felt like he was supposed to do more than just travel around with his childhood friend. not that he hated it, but he also felt lost whenever they got ready to travel to the next town. but when they landed in your town, it felt right to alejandro and he wanted to stay.

alejandro opened the back with a smile as he brought in the burlap sack clad flour and sugar you needed in the bakery. placing them near the other sacks in your low supplies as you stood behind the big butcher block table which you made pastries on.

“thank you, ale. i would have done it, but i needed to get these breads ready and in the oven.” you smiled up at him as he walked over and hugged you from behind, giving feathery kisses along your neck.

“its no problem, mi corazon, i love helping you and watching you do what you love most.” he smiled into your neck as you both swayed to the imagery music. sweet notes of vanilla, fruits, lavender, and many other notes wafted through the air which warm, fuzzy feelings in your chest as you leaned against alejandro.

“do you happen to have any extra cherry pie, mi corazon?” he whispered as he pressed a quick kiss to the shell of your ear. his warm hands gently slide up and down your sides.

cherry pie was alejandros favorite dessert, so whenever it was baked, he would always sneak a piece when you werent watching. meaning you would have to make more then buy more cherries and it was just a cycle of baking cherry pies.

“if you check the oven, love, you’ll find two cherry pies…one is yours.” an excited whoop left alejandros throat as he turned you around, pressing a passionate kiss against your lips. he ran over to the oven and pulled out the two pies with the peel, placing them on the counter.

“you’re amazing, mi corazon! you always spoil me too much with your pastries and sweets.” pulling you away from the dough on the butcher table, bringing you into his body again as a grin graced his lips. gentle hands rested upon your jaw as he brought you both closer once again; gentle lips danced against one another as you rested your hands on his chest.

“well, you deserves it, alejandro. you do a lot for me and the people here…its the least i could do for you…” you whispered against his lips when you pulled away for a moment. alejandros signature smirk returned, pushing loose baby hair away from your face so he could see it better.

“thank you, mi corazon…it means a lot to hear you say that.”

rudy- illusion mage

rudy and alejandro met as kids when other kids were picking on rudy for his magic. all the other kids thought he was a horrible mage for having illusion magic; most thought it would be used to trick and try to control people. but rudys magic only ever activated when he was in major distress as a kid, when he was older and enrolled into a magic school he learned to control it and use his magic whenever. when alejandro met his partner and decided to stay in that town, rudy didnt mind one bit as he liked the thought of a fresh start in a new town.

you sat at your desk, working on some paperwork for your boss at the bookshop. you had been there all day, sorting through the records of payments and what inventory was in the shop. rudy entered the house from nightly patrol duty, dropping off his coat and illusions dust at the front door.

“amor, what are you doing up so late?” rudy walked over to where you sat, giving you a soft kiss against your shoulder as he rested his head in the crook of your neck.

“i have to get these papers done for the bookshop, cielo…” rested a hand on his jaw, giving back a light peck on the lips. rudy chuckled as he pulled out your chair from the desk.

this caused you drop the papers and quill onto the table as your lover picked you up from the chair, bridal style.

“rudy! i have to get those done soon!” a squeal left your lips as he carried to your shared and dropped you upon yalls bed.

“soon. you said you can finish them soon, lets just cuddle for a bit, amor.” he plopped his body down onto yours as his arms went to wrap around your waist.

knowing rudy wasnt to let you from cuddling for at least a while, you gave huff in defeat which was followed by a chuckle. you begrudgingly wrapped your arms around back, slowly running your nails up and down as you pressed a kiss to his temple.

“you’re a pain in my ass, cielo. but i love you…” whispering to him as yall snuggled into the bedsheets further.

“i love you more…” rudy soon drifted into sleep as he laid on your chest. soon you followed him as well, your hands resting his hair with small smiles gracing your faces.

a/n: as i wrote this, I read the wikis of war zone operators and was thinking about doing a part 2 with some, let me know if y'all would like that and if you want to see certain characters in it

[persesphonestears]

Okay so actual shower thoughts cause I had a shower and the question of the 141 guys' showers and how they would look like, and ultimately decided that Ghosts shower would most definitely face directly towards the door. Man has no shame, if someone come into his house while he showers; he is taking them down not caring even a little about the fact he is completely butt ass naked. Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[blingblong55]

KINKTOBER IS OPEN - MDNI/NSFW

Please read through this post to understand what this event is about.

ALL REQUESTS WILL BE POSTED STARTING THE 1ST OF OCTOBER

What is Kinktober?

Kinktober is a writing challenge which takes part in the month of October. Any and all writers that do NSFW fiction can take part in this. The list that I have come up with is mostly inspired by @katz-chow and I have added or removed some of the kinks from their original list. From the 1st of October until the 31st, I will be writing the request/number you ask for. All smut content will and can vary from headcanons, one-shots, drabble and/or long fics.

How does this work?

There are 25 kinks that you can choose from. As seen on the poster/picture, you must let me know which character you are requesting and a scenario but that is optional. Like Katz, you can ask for what form of smut you want. EX. Headcanon, one shot or a long fic.

What characters can you request?

I have a somewhat extensive list of characters and the current list is here

Some more information: (All credits to Katz)

If I have multiple requests for the same character and kink, I'll choose just one request and tag all those else that asked for the same thing, (unless it is anonymous ofc).

If I happen to have the same kink but request different characters, I will turn it into a headcanon or what I see fit(for my own sanity, lol).

If you want your character to be submissive/switch/dominate, you must state that in the request or I will choose.

Remember to also write in whether you want your request to be F!/ GN!/M! Reader

Make sure to check my pinned post for the rules for making requests If you would like to use this exact list, make sure to let me know beforehand or message me

Go make some requests to fellow writer, @katz-chow -Link to their Kinktober Menu

Stay kinky you nasty whores

[cas-backwards-tie]

Music To My Ears

König x Reader

Summary: Uninspired by the monotonous lull of life, König can't help but feel there's something missing. Though he's not quite sure what it is, entirely... until it shows up in front of him.

Words: 600ish

Warnings: angstiness, misunderstanding,

A/N: Another song fic, inspired by... this song.

While he'd never admit it to you considering it'd be grounds for the termination of his position, you'd caught the Colonel's eye. After you've been in the military for a while things start to become monotonous in a way. Sure, there are things that are everchanging and always differing when it comes to the minutia of it, but truly... once you've been in the ranks for a while, it's safe to say that you've most likely seen it all.

Suffice to say, if his life were a movie, the Colonel doesn't think it'd be entertaining in the least. A book? Repeating stories over and over. A song? Something simple, like a children's song. Perhaps something with three chords in the melody. Nothing fancy. Despite his choices, despite what he'd been dealt in life. The truth is... deep down, the one thing that his enemies would probably never be able to guess that keeps him awake is not the actions he's taken, or the things he's done. It's all the things he hasn't. There are days, hours, and moments where all that feel left of him is a shell- a husk of a man, drowned by yearning, longing, and want.

It's not to say that the life he has isn't the one he wants. That he hasn't tried to get where he is or hasn't chosen to pursue what he has. No... no, he's worked hard to get where he is today. Yet, there's always been that part of him. That something, just there, tugging at him, at his heart, deep down- somewhere- deep within.

He has guesses of what'd fill that void. The longing, yearning, deep ache in his chest fulfilled by something so simple? It's a belief he holds. Yet, he's never found himself willing, or pushed, or whatever you'd want to call it. Perhaps, maybe, divinely persuaded to find purchase in pursuing such avenue. Not... until you.

Whether it was the way he found himself utterly enamored by the way he immediately noticed you and the humility you carry. Was there a chance it's the flaws you hold? Obvious in a glaring way when held up against a mirror to the almost perfect soldiers he and his captains train? Somehow you'd make it past selection. And he questions it every day, but doesn't send you home. Though you've only been sent out on a handful of missions he's seen the humanity you've shown not only the hostages, but the fatally wounded and surrendering enemy soldiers, the civilians. As Colonel it's his duty to uphold certain procedure and protocol, yet what could be deemed as a 'flaw', to him, is far more beautiful than everything that he's been taught, trained, and has been engrained into him to do.

Recently, you've been so kind to him. Treating him as an equal, not shying away your opinions or sucking up because of his position. It's clear you trust him, and while he knows that's a vulnerable thing to be given in this field, König knows he'd never betray you like that. Ever since you'd come into his life a few months ago when you'd been transported to base all he can hear is the way the simple music of his life has turned into far greater, more complicated music.

Maybe his outlook is different now, maybe there's a glimmer of hope, perhaps. Nevertheless, he knows his life could be ballads, or instrumental, or disco, or rave, or pop, or any sort of music he desires! Now, there's really a chance that those things he'd never let himself dream of having... of receiving... just maybe, he can dream of having them... with you.

~~~~~~~~

forever taglist: @ohdamnadam , @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic , @moonlightsolo

[issdisgrace]

Gaz: Ok so how many shots would it take for you hook up with each member of the 141 including me.

Y/n: Hmm. Probably at least 5 for Ghost so I can get over the intense stare he always has. For you, soap, and roach probably 2 just for courage.

Gaz: And the captain?

Y/n: Dead sober, ain’t no alcohol needed to hype me up to rail that man. Like he’s honestly a dilf and if I got the chance I would hit it.

Price: Good to know you think I’m a dilf and you’re not so bad yourself y/n.

Cue Y/n and Gaz screaming and jumping into each other's arms like Shaggy and Scooby

[xmy-love-to-youx]

Simon as a father

Simon wasn't exactly excited about having children but once he held his first born in his arms, his mindset changed.

Simon loves his little girl. He loves spoiling her, she's his little princess.

She's got his beautiful brown eyes and blonde hair.

"Daddy? Can I have puppy?"

"Yes my princess"

"Daddy, I want pizza but mommy said no"

"It's okay princess. Let's get you pizza but don't tell your mother"

He will break all the rules just to see her happy.

Simon would come home, exhausted, both mentally and physically. He is prepared to drink himself drunk and pass out on a random spot but once he hears little footsteps running to him, a smile appears on his face under his mask.

"Daddy! You're home!"

"There's my little angel"

Simon is very protective of his little girl, his always holding her and walking around with her in his arms.

He let's her wear his mask and he'd watch with a smile on his face as she tries to scare him.

"Boo!"

"You scared me, my little Ghost"

He would sit and listen to her ramble on about something completely random whether it's that wierd boy from school or something she saw on TV. He would sit still and listen, she had his full attention.

"But it very creepy. All he does is eat glue and cry whole day. That's so baby-ish of him"

"I agree"

"And this one girl brags about her dog all day..."

With every chance he gets, he spends it with her. He plays with her, brushes her hair.

He even joins her when she had a tea party with her stuffed animals. He let's her paint his nails pink or any color she decides, he just covers it up with his gloves.

He let's her play with his hair.

"Daddy. I want to play with your hair"

He immediately lays down and let's her do whatever she wants.

She makes him watch Barbie with her until they both fall asleep on the couch.

One day, Simon had a rough day at work and wasn't in a good mood. Price was on his head about paperwork and Soap was annoying him as always. He needed a pen and went to his bag to grab another when he got there, he spotted a mysterious picture in his bag and pulled it out, it was a drawing of him with a cape with the words scribbled across the page "Daddy. My hero"

Simon framed the picture and keeps it on his desk and stares at it everyday.

He reads her stories and watches her slowly fall asleep, he stays for a while and watches her cling to him like he was a teddy bear.

He places a gentle kiss on her forehead before quietly leaving her room and goes to bed.

He holds you in his arms and whines about how his princess is growing up too quickly.

It wasn't long afterwards that baby #2 came along and he was overjoyed and stuck to your side.

"No standing"

"I'll do it for you, you sit down and rest"

"What is my baby craving today?"

Simon makes sure you and the baby are safe before he leaves or does anything.

Simon definitely loves his girls but if he should have a boy, he would definitely name him Johnny, after his fallen friend and teammate.

Simon's poor phone is always full because of all the pictures and videos in his gallery that he took of his children.

[sirenmoth]

Sweet Melody

Ghost x Fem!Reader x König

Synopsis: Ghost and König show you how you belong to

CW: DUBCON, established relationship, begging, manhandling, mention of breeding, breeding, double penetration, anal fingering, anal sex, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, rough sex, hate sex?, mention of brusies, slight edging, possesive ghost, possesive köing, possesive sex, spanking, alpha/beta/omega dymanics, ABO dynamics, slight malipulation?, dumbification, sir kink, size kink, biting, voyerisum, dom/sub dynamics, hair pulling, polygamy, throuple, brief pussy slapping, overstimulation, you're not caught but EVERYONE knows, mention of bruises, a few degrading words Request by @oxbunnehxo

"God, i can smell them on you, it's fuckin' disgusting" the lieutenant alpha growled as he pushed you in some random closet just down the hall from where the teams were celebrating a successful joint mission, König and Ghost brought you along as a plus one, and because you begged to meet their teammates. They courted you when you were a medic in the military, the two giants took a liking to you nearly immediately, using their over-powerful scent to court you and scare away any other potentail suters. They provided for you and cared for you, showing they would make good mates, pampering you until you became their sweet doclie omega.

Gasping as Ghost pushes you front to the closet wall, trapping you with his body, leaning down to your ear level "Ya think that was funny? Throwing yourself over them like some common slag?" he growls, you can feel his anger, opening your mouth hoping to defend yourself, that you were trying to make friends, but Ghost brings his hand down over your ass, hard, the smack ringing out in the barely light space. his hands finding a tight drip on your hips to keep you from squirming away, "Johnny was praticcally eye fuckin' you, wanted a piece of you." Ghost bring his hand down again, harder than the last, causing you to let out a small whimper, "a piece of what is mine", he brings his hand down at same time the sound of the door , a thick accented voice rings out,

"Ours"

Looking up towards the door, your heart feels like it stops, the light in from the hallway illuminates an obscured figure, König, the reality of the situation hits you like a train hitting a brick wall. You were cornered in some small, cramped closet, barley big enough for one alpha let alone two, the same two alphas who were beyond pissed and jealous and more then ready to take it out on you. König slowly closed the door behind him as he entered, making sure you watch to ensure you know there no escape. Both men stared at each other, like they were telepathicly discussing what to do with you. Ghost pulled your body close to his chest, allowing Austrian mountain man to slot in between you and the wall, his hands replacing Ghosts' death grip on your hips.

König was stronger and bigger then Ghost, but it would be a deadly mistake to say the shorter of the duo was weaker, both held their dominace and massive size with pride, they knew how to use it agaisnt you, fucking you with a bittersweey mix of adoration and aggression, ripping you apart with their mouths, fingers and cocks only to put you back together after it was over, especially when they got possesive over you, their mate. They would spend hours using you over and over until you were nothing more then a puddle covered in marks, bruises, both yours and their cum, sweat and tears.

Ghost shoves you into Königs' chest, forcing you to arch your back, making you present to him, "Now, pet, 'm goin' to give you ten and you will count after each one, if i hear a single bratty comment from you, you'll get more, affirmative?" Ghost speaks, a silent order to behave, to take it like a good omega. Nodding your head in agreement when a yelp is pulled from your throat due to another harsh slap, "I want a verbal response, love" giving the irritated flesh a light squeeze.

"Yes, sir" you whimper out, knowing where this is going to go and how it's going to end.

Before you're able to take a breathe to ease your nerves, a loud smack rings out, harder then the previous ones, rougher, harsher. You whine at the sting of the slap and the fabric of your pants rubbing agaisnt the redded flesh, "O-one" you mange to get out, the feeling of gloves burning into hips causes you to jump.

"What do you say, Hase?" Somehow you almost forget about the man holding you up, god you can hear the smirk in his voice, "Thank you, sir" earning a lgrowl of approval from both of them, a few more quick smacks are given, Ghost alternating between each cheek, you swallow air as you shakily count "Two...t-hree, fo-four", thanking your mates after each one.

The Austrian man pawing at your hips helped distract you from the British man breathing down your neck, until a gloved hand finds its way around your neck, gently pulling your head up to check on you, to check if you're ok, giving make a soft smile as Ghost pulls his mask up to his nose and presses himself againt you freshly abused ass. Placing a gentle kiss to his claim mark, Köings' was in the same location on the opposite side. He pulled his mask and attacked your mouth in an open kiss while Ghost nipped at your neck, leaving fresh marks, out of the two of them he was always the mouthy one.

Ghost grinds against your ass, sending waves of stinging pain and unregulated pleasure to your brain, their scents clouding your senses and thoughts, easing you into a false sense of secuity. König started to unbuckle your belt and barely gets your jeans down your thighs before Ghost shoves a gloved hand in between them and presses two fingers against your slit. "It is stupid to think you are getting what you want to easily," his voice was loud and hard to ignore, laced with a thick austrian accent, a strict contrast between Ghosts' slightly more quite and gravelly one, accompanied with his own heavy manchester accent.

A loving hand makes its way through your hair, you bath in it until you head is pulled back from its place on Königs' chest "You have to beg for it, hase" He rasps, eyes boring into yours, an attempt to hide you face is cut short by Ghost, "He said beg", already growing tired with this so called bratty behaviour. Swallowing your tongue, attempting to calm your nerves for the second time tonight.

"Please, i'm sorry, i was trying to make friends" you beg, tears swelling at the corners of your eyes, "I-I didn't mean to, please...please". A sign was heard but you couldn't tell who it came from, a kiss was placed on your scalp, a quiet message before your trousers and panties were ripped down your legs and thrown by the closed door, follwed by your shirt and bra, "We know, hase, but we stiil need to make sure they know your ours" König explains, you relax a little knowing they weren't fully mad. He move a gloved hand from your hips to your thigh and pulls it up and on his waist, keeping it in a tight grip, the other leg barely touching the ground, having to be on tip-toes to keep balanced as Ghost toys with you. Enough pressure to feel his fingers dancing over your sweet bundle of nerves but not enough to bring pleasure, Königs' hands on your thigh and hip preventing you from grinding agaisnt them.

The Brit removes one of his gloves, safely securing it in his pocket, then bringing his fingers to your entrance, circling it to collect as much slick on his fore and middle fingers, slowly entering his fingers into you, filling you up. He moves foward more, using their size against you, restraining you in the middle as they take you apart, dragging his fingers in and out, prolonging your punishment. Both men look at each other, then down a you, coming to the same idea. A sudden jolt of pain rips through you as they bite you, hard, right over their respective marks, restating their claim.

You are their, and everyone must know it.

The other participants attending could probably smell and hear what was happening, König calmly moves high fingers up and down your thigh, moving his hand from your hip to your neglected clit, before removing the glove, following the same method as Ghost, collects some of your slick and moves his fingers towards you ass, entering it without warning, you're unable to move as you take their thick, rough fingers. letting them strech you out.

Once they've deemed you streched and prepped enough, they remove their finger, earning a whimpering moan from, Ghost quickly slaps your clit for it, silently telling you to keep quite, that was for later. You waited with shallow breathes as the sound of your alphas remove themsleves from their pants, the soft sound of precum being spread over their cocks, Ghost collects moreof your slick and spreads it over your back enterance. Slowly you move your hands, wanting to feel them, feel them in your hands, in your mouth, inside you.

That fantasy was short lived as Ghost pins your hand behind you back and you freeze, like prey caught by a predator, "Did you think you'd get away with that?" He husks in your ear, both alphas soak in your whines and you feed you their cocks, inch by inch, until their flush against your skin.

Then they still.

You attempt to move, both laugh down at you, watching you try to bounce on dicks, "We haven't done anything and you are already cockdrunk?" the venom dripping in his voice, so you sit and wait, being used asa cockwarmer.

One deep inside your cunt, the other deep inside you ass.

You've never felt so good, swimming in your combained pheromones and scent, slowly slipping into a complicit mindstate, that's when they move, when one pulls out the other thrusts in, keeping you full and constantly suspended in a blissful and cockdrunk state.

König pulls your head away from his chest once again by your hair, forcing you to take what they're giving you without hiding, all the while Ghost slips his remaining gloved hand over your puffy clit, pinching and rubbing it.

Your soft moans can probably be heard from the party, you're sure of it, but at this point you find it hard to care, the pleasure making you lose the ability to think clearly, focusing on what the alphas are giving you. "Moan for us, pet, scream for us. Let them know who you belong to" Ghosts' heavy accent sctraches something deep in your brain, and you lose yourself completely, moaning louder into the confides of the closet.

"That's our dumb hase, can't even think for herself, Needs her big, strong alphas to protect her" The Austrian man in front of you grunts out.

"Mmm, you're lucky we found you, who knows what'd have happened if someone else got you" The British man behind you growls out.

They talk as if you're not there. Not being pumped full of their cock. Not sandwiched between their bodies, drool slowly running down from the side of your mouth, eyes rolled back into your head as you mutter and mumble incoherently, brain shut off, not register anything. Expect for one word,

Breed.

Numbly you nod your head, trying to beg them to breed you, but nothing but moans leave your mouth, unware of what you just agreed too.

Without warning both men pick up the pace, pounding into you with such aggresive stamina all you can out are squeals and squeaks, you're preety sure you'll be unable to walk after this as another orgasm is pulld from you.

You lost count how mant you've had. 5? 10? The sensitivity and overstimulation is felt through the bond and the alphas litter your neck and shoulders in more bites, you can feel more bruises forming on your hips, waist and thigh, there might be some on your wrists by the end as well. You wonder how'll you be able to walk after, most likely won't without a limp, but all that can be discussed later as another orgasm leaves you at the same time your mates dump another load of their cum into you.

But that doesn't stop them, and before you know it, you're on the edge of another orgasm.

"You want to came? Do you want us to breed you full?"

You're unsure who's speaking but give out a breathy, strained moan in response.

"I think we have fuck her dumb" They laugh at you condition, thrusting back into you, set on completing their mission, to make sure you're packed full of their fertile cum before they leave the event.

Growls, grunts and moans fill the space between as the giant alphas use you for their pleasure, pushing and pulling you in every which direction.

In and out, in and out.

Back and forth, back and forth.

The slaps of your bare skin is muffled agaisnt the fabric of their pants, a painful reminder that you're practiclly exposed while their fully dressed, your lower body tingles from lack of use, you can feel your joints stiffening up. The mixure of fluids between your thighs is in a constant state of uncomfortably dry and sickly wet.

"C'mon you can give us one more, can't you?" The man city alpha breathes out, it feels like a taunt, one you can reply to as the familiar feeling of another orgasm begins to build in your belly, squirming to try and get away from the sensations in all in vein as Ghost presses you impossibly closer to König.

"I- c..can't ple-" you can barely get a full sentance out, to far into the throws of pleasures, "Ja, you can and you will" König grits out, his hips slam into Ghosts' gloved hand that found it's way back to you slit. When did that happen? Thieir tatics effectivly pushing you closer to the edge.

"N-No.. it-" Your orgasms barrels through you without warning, catching you off gaurd, cutting you off as you scream from the intensity of it. The last of your strengh gives out, bringing along the last of your cognitive thoughts with it, leaving you limp and twitching. Both alphas growl, deep grunts as they cum a few moments later, deep inside you, mindlessly fucking it deeper into you to make sure it takes.

Feeling like you're floating as they let you go, gently placing you down back on the ground as they pull out, König keeps you against his torso to prevent you from collapsing, Ghost fetches your discared clothes and helps you get re-dressed, telling you how much their going to pamper you once you get home. König gently picks you up, the feels of sweat anf drying cum is making you uncomfortable, but promises of a warm bubble bath is enough to calm you. He keeps giving sweet words in austrian as you feel your sense return. Ghost leaves back to the main gathering to gather any left behind belongings, not really caring about announcing their leave.

Drifting in and out of sleep, you can faintly hear a few words the British alpha is saying, the awkardness and strained responses from everyone there. They all replied in quick words, all very eagar for the three of you leave. Your cheeks burn red after you hear a well know scottish accent say 'not to wear the bonnie to thin'. Burying yourself back into König again at the realisation as your brain connects the dots. They heard, everyone at the party heard everything.

[kiryoutann]

Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

TW: self-harm (reader scratching herself as a coping mechanism to calm her emotional distress).

A foreign language fills your ears, but the high-pitched, rapid sound feels awfully familiar. Your eyebrows furrow in your sleep as you try to make sense of the noise. You blink open your eyelids, your half-conscious mind struggling to piece together the source. Oh, birds. The melodic chorus drifting through the window is a sweet birdsong that rouses you from slumber.

Slowly, you become aware of your surroundings, along with the warm sensation surrounding your naked body. The breath of another person tickles the back of your neck. Bleary eyes flutter open to find yourself nestled in the embrace of a pair of strong arms. Light streams over the corded muscles of his forearms, picking out the golden hairs dusting his skin and his intricate tattoos.

Carefully, trying not to wake him, you twist in his arms and start to slip away. But before your toes can reach the floor, a tug forces you to fall back onto the mattress.

“And where do you think you're going?” He said, rough morning voice rumbles next to your ear.

Simon buries his face in your shoulder, and you laugh at the ticklish stubble grazing your skin. He plants a kiss, turning you to face him.

Gently, you run your fingers through his short locks. "I have practice early, remember?" He acknowledges your comments with a grunt, but remains unwilling to release you. You chuckle lightly, tracing the shell of his ear. “Your hair's gotten longer. Time for a cut, don't you think?”

Simon hummed, nuzzling into your chest. “You should do it. Last time turned out decent enough.”

“Well, first, you’ll have to let me up.”

Once more, you try to slip out of his arms, only for Simon to wrap them around your waist even tighter. He presses his face into your skin again. In this comfortable silence, your eyes become heavy once more. A mischievous voice in the back of your head tells you to go for the phone and call in sick so you can spend the whole day with him. Five more minutes, you tell yourself.

“Stay with me.” His words were muffled, barely audible to you. But, after years of being with Simon, your ears had become accustomed to hearing even his whisper. “Just like this, forever. You think that’s possible?”

Forever. As in: to many more walks and giggles with you, to many more sunrises and sunsets. The image of Simon leaning the ladder against the wall of a remodeled old house, as you directed the picture frame to be set straight. With ballet performances every weekend, and he would come to pick you up in his Ford. And after more years with him, he'll paint the blue you handpicked while his head kept turning in fear that you would enter the fume-filled room.

To stay forever is to outlive the sun. To lie down and be shaded on your lap as he listens to your story.

“It can be,” you whispered, a shy promise but one that you intended to fulfill. Your lips parted again to say the next words, “Fore—”

CLANG!

The crashing sound startles you awake, eyes snapping open only to be greeted by darkness. For a moment, disoriented, you recognize the same bedroom, except for the presence of a certain man behind you. The cold air hits your skin as reality sets in—it was all a dream.

Behind the curtains, the dark sky still stretches; the pale silver light of the moon creeps right into the long hand of the wall clock. It's three in the morning. You sit on your bed, trying to gather more consciousness while listening for any further sounds. When you hear another—this time louder—you immediately jump out of the blanket to check.

The floor lamp in the living room area is on, casting long shadows. But, the rest remains cloaked in nighttime gloom. Glancing around, you nearly let out a scream at the massive figure hovering over the open cabinet.

“Simon?”

Simon stands in the kitchen, peering at you nervously before relaxing his stiff shoulders. You reach over to turn on the light switch. He's holding the dolphin mug you purchased from IKEA with his left hand, and his right hand is stuck in midair.

“Just after some water,” he says, holding up the broken mug in his hand. You glance at the shards of ceramic on the counter, and Simon notices. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you. Or break the mug.”

At his explanation, you do a quick scan of him. “Are you hurt?” you ask.

“I’m alright, just clumsy is all.” Simon bends down to pick up his dolphin head piece. He places it on the counter for you to see. “Pity about the mug, though. Dolphin didn’t make it seem.”

You let out a small laugh at his lame joke. Stepping closer to examine the mug, a familiar sweet scent enters your nostrils. You look up at him, noticing that his tall form looks surprisingly put together despite the late hour. His hair is half-damp, having been towel-dried a little before leaving the rest to the air.

“Did you use my shampoo?” you ask.

“Didn’t have much choice, did I?” he says, turning to pick up the broken ceramics on the counter.

When his back is turned to you, you notice more details about him. His shirt, while wrinkled, seems freshly smoothed. And there, on the stool, sits his leather jacket, as if just waiting to be tucked back in at a moment's notice. The two combine and prompt an assumption.

“Are you leaving then?” The question slipped from your lips easily as an eel.

He looks back at you. “Captain needs me back at the base.”

A hollow ache bloomed in your chest at his words. Though separation was expected, some selfish corner of your heart wished to keep him here, beneath your gaze, within the reach of your hand. But, there was always a world to snatch him away—a world he had to save. He would return to being a ghost, coming and going as he pleased through the grip of your fingers.

“A busy man, you are.” Despite the burn, you try to force lightness into your intonation.

Simon huffs out a chuckle, and you consider that your temporary compensation. “Not as busy as you, from the looks of it.” He nods toward the fridge where your scribbled schedule hangs on a magnet.

As he steps past you, your eyes follow his movements. He retrieves his leather jacket from the stool, shrugging into it. Your fingers ache to reach out and smooth the material over his form, but you simply tighten your grip on yourself instead. He searches his pockets; he digs out a cigarette and his black face mask, but a puzzled expression creases his forehead.

“Phone’s missing.” He mumbles, scanning the kitchen and retracing his steps to where he had been standing. Nothing.

You offer, “I could try calling it, if you’d like?”

Simon nods, and you rush to the bedroom to retrieve your own phone from where it’s charging on the nightstand. You’re back at his side in a flash, thumbs dancing to type in the passcode, and you open the call app.

“What’s your number? I’ll ring it so we can hear where it’s hiding.” Your fingers hover eagerly over the keypad as you watch him expectantly.

He rattles out his phone number, and you swiftly tap it in. Your phone starts to dial; the two of you wait in silence, attempting to listen carefully. A muffled ringtone draws both of your attention to the living room, and Simon extends his stride to collect the small device hidden between the couch cushions.

A flip phone. Simon snaps it open to silence the call, and you can't help but note how small it is in his palm. He presses the thin buttons with his thumb, gaze fixed on the retro screen, reading the text message.

"I didn't realize they still make flip phones." You teased.

Slipping it into his jeans pocket, he shrugged. “It gets the job done,” he said. “Lot harder to trace than one of those newer ones.”

“You sound like some wanted criminal on the run.”

“Well, maybe I am.”

Simon turns and fully faces you, locking his gaze on yours. Those brown eyes, deep and intense, hold you captive like the pull of the moon on the tide, like rain on your parched soil. You wish him to stay, to not walk through that door and return to a place where he believed he belonged, so he wouldn't have to get hurt again. So that he wouldn't add more bumps and bruises to his already battered body.

The human heart swells with the desire to be reciprocated for all its longings. The urge to stretch onto your tiptoes and press your lips to his overwhelms you.

But before you could act on it, Simon had put a polite distance between the two of you once more. That moment, whatever it held, was over, and reality had returned to its uninvited seat.

“Best be off then, love.” He said, slipping his mask into place, ready to leave.

“Will I see you when it’s over?” Simon stopped walking when he heard your question. Shifting uncomfortably between your legs, you licked your dry lips. “Your duties, I mean. Do you know when you might return?”

Turning to you once more, he let out a sigh. “Can't say for certain, darling. You know how it is.”

"Will you at least call?" You ask again. “Or text, if you can. You have my number now..."

Simon stared at the distant wall as he considered your request. “Yeah, alright. I’ll send you a text.”

A smile came across your face where hope had once been extinguished. "Okay."

Interpreting your response as the end of the conversation, he turned and headed towards the door. Like fog dissipating into the air, Simon disappeared behind it, leaving no trace except the broken dolphin mug lying discarded in the trash, the only reminder of his presence. You lingered by the door for a while, secretly hoping he would come back, but deep down, you knew he wouldn't be returning anytime soon.

Simon’s disappearance period always leaves a bitter taste on your tongue—a sensation of longing for something that is out of reach.

In an attempt to distract yourself, you drag your feet to tidy up the little messes around you. You straighten the cushions again after fluffing them, then fold the blanket and set it on the sofa arm. Simon must have spent the majority of the night sleeping here. It's baffling that, despite seeing you naked multiple times and uncovering ecstasy-inducing parts of you, the idea of sharing a bed is where he draws the line.

Perhaps it’s the sense of belonging—he doesn’t feel like he deserves to belong on the other side of your bed any more than you do in his arms. If you say you’re not disappointed, you’ll just come off as a big, fat liar.

However, that promise. That first promise he made to you—the “Yeah, alright. I’ll send you a text,” promise that he uttered acted as some kind of hazy, ephemeral illusion that dulled the ache in your heart chambers. You view it as more than an oath—symbolic of something growing strong; roots taking hold. And like a diligent gardener, all you can do is patiently wait.

You drift to the kitchen to continue tidying up. After placing the bottle of bourbon in the cabinet, you return to the stool and shove it under the counter. Glancing around the room, your eyes fix on the spot where, just a few hours ago, you were laying on your stomach with his tongue buried deep inside you.

A secret smile grows across your face, but the warmth that comes with it goes unnoticed as you walk to the bathroom. There’s about three hours until the alarm goes off. You consider making sure everything is in its proper place one last time before going back to sleep.

Taking a deep breath, the scent of your shampoo lingers in the air, and your sight shifts to the shower drain. Bare feet touch the damp tile as an empty thought forms. Though longer than last time, Simon’s hair is still considered short—a military regulation he has to follow—so none could have been caught and tangled there.

The man has been exceptionally dedicated and consistent in never leaving anything behind on his visits other than longing and the need to see him again. It’s silly, sentimental, maybe even pathetic, but the urge to search for crumbs—for even a strand of his blond hair—compels you to kneel and check the shower drain, your hands spreading the grating to verify what your irrational mind has been fantasizing about.

Nothing. There is nothing left behind except a phone number that is certainly inactive most hours and an ever-widening emptiness—as if it's gradually spreading, searching for what once filled it. You feel irritated, almost angry—but you realize that you have chosen this, willingly signing your name and scribbling your signature on something uncertain, something wild that keeps drawing your gaze to the door.

As you rise from your crouch, planning to turn back to the bedroom, something catches your eye in the living room.

There, on the coffee table, sits the ashtray you bought two months ago but never found a use for. Ash scatters the rim in the most unsatisfying manner. But instead of being empty, now in its ceramic bowl are the butts of about three cigarettes. Your breath catches in your chest, and your heart skips a beat. This is clear evidence that Simon was really here.

Your fingers itch to tidy it up, to scrub the ashtray until it sparkles like you always do. Yet another part of you resists. This is the sole memento you must cling to in his absence until he returns to leave more behind. With a last glance, you tear yourself away and rush to your room, leaving them untouched.

“And one, plie… two, tendu to the side… three, rise up… four…”

The coach's count serves as a consistent metronome during morning class, allowing your warm muscles to fall into a familiar rhythm as you flow through the opening combinations. You focus on your reflection in the mirror, striving for perfection in your stance. Lean muscles extend and contract. Your hair is tied neatly back, not a strand daring to escape the tight confines of your bun.

“Thomas, keep those arms rounded; don’t let them drop.” She corrects someone behind you. You take the opportunity to glance at the clock on the wall – ten minutes until class ends and rehearsal begins.

“Claudine, you’re late again. This is the third time this week, you know punctuality is important.”

The coach's scolding causes you to glance around, and you see Claudine murmuring an apology as she rushes to find a spot. She turns her gaze to you, eyes filled with a venomous twist that churns your stomach as she takes up position at the barre next to yours. Determined to keep your focus, you fix your gaze on your reflection in the mirror and the coach's voice in the background.

However, Claudine has a knack for spotting vulnerabilities, even in your attempt to appear emotionless. “How’s Odette coming along? Still not feeling her yet?” she says, voice saccharine.

“It’s fine.” You replied curtly.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice her smile widening, as if she’s found a tender spot to poke with her weapon of choice. “That’s not what I’ve heard from Jacob.”

Jacob. Of course. Your dance partner, and no doubt her latest beau. You blink away the stinging sensation in your eyes, your shoulders heaving slightly in your attempt to take a subtle breath. “I’m working on it.”

Claudine lets out a derisive chuckle as you move through plies and tendus. When your eyes meet in the mirror once more, hers are sparkling with challenge.

“If you can’t cut it, you know I’m always ready to step in,” she turns her head to you, lips curling into a mocking smirk. “All you need to do is say the word.”

Your chest heaves as humiliation climbs up your throat. Before you could form a reply, the coach called an end to the class, announcing a ten-minute break before rehearsal began. With a smug smirk, Claudine's sly eyes returned to you as she pursed her red lips together and blew a parting kiss in the mirror reflection. She swept out of the room with a rustle of tulle and lace. Out of sight. She won the competition of having the last word.

Dancers line the long, dim hallway, lined with doors, as they take this opportunity to rehydrate before diving into another round of rigorous dancing. However, unlike them, it seems you have your own agenda. Instead, you briskly stride towards the restroom, push open the door of one of the empty stalls, and hastily drop your duffel bag on the floor.

Your head is tilted up, and your eyes are blinking incessantly in an attempt to clear your blurry vision. The thumping in your heart persists. Feeling your legs start to buckle, you close the toilet lid and sit down. The grimy bathroom floor tiling is the last thing you want to concentrate on, but anything other than you seems more appealing right now—your way of escaping the awareness of your own existence, of being a being who cannot conform to anyone's expectations, anywhere.

The words uttered by Claudine aren't new; this is hardly the first time another dancer has taken a jab at you. “Robot Ballerina” is a title you’ve been given since you joined, courtesy of the gossipy whispers that trail you wherever you go. It has always been so.

And yet, something has shifted, tearing away the veil that shrouded you, pulling you forcefully out of a long, empty dream. Suddenly, everything is overwhelming, and you become hyper-aware of every stare, every criticism, every scrap of talk thrown from one to another—from your dance partner to the person who could potentially replace you if you still fail to live up to the director's expectations today. One side of your head is throbbing with pain.

Your breath hitches as a sharp pain shoots up the back of your neck. Instinctively, you reach back to massage the area, your fingernails digging into your skin, leaving faint crescent shapes and a momentary calm that smothers the burning sensation within you like water dousing a flame.

In the next second, the turmoil was back under control, and your mind was clearing from the thick red fog. Breathing felt so much easier.

You dig around for your phone in your duffel bag. The screen lights up automatically, and your eyes wander to look for a text message or missed call.

But, of course, there’s nothing. He just left this morning—he couldn't possibly text like he promised in such a short amount of time. You swipe to your call history, his number staring back at you from the brief call you made when he misplaced his phone.

A sigh escapes you. Rehearsal begins in three minutes. You took your duffel bag and rose up. You turned on the faucet and ran water over your hands, scrubbing under your nails to make sure there were no stray bits of peeled skin left underneath.

Casting a final glance at your reflection in the mirror, you swiftly removed the smudge of mascara and tended to a few stray hairs before making your way out and into the rehearsal room.

The same music resounds once more, harmonizing with the same steps. Following your pre-practiced movements, you and Jacob take your own positions. Yet, something about the room feels quieter. As muscle memory guides you through the motions, your mind sinks into a tiny bubble of awareness—of each piano note, of the curl of your fingers coming out with precision, of Jacob’s slender fingers intertwined with yours.

Which then distorted into a pair of calloused hands belonging to someone. Your eyes widen, and you stare right into brown irises shaded by pale lashes.

Simon lifts and spins you through the act, the warmth of his palms sending goosebumps down your vertebra. You let yourself to feel –your lifeless spine arching against him. Higher, he lifts you into the pale light, and you stretch your wings like extensions of his very being. His lips ghost your brow. You feel exposed—an unveiling of a girl with grand, sweet dreams. You twirl like a ballerina in a music box.

A man in love—and like all men in love, Simon took your hand in his as he bent his knees before you. Brown eyes stared at you expectantly; on the tip of his tongue was the sacred confession of his devotion to you.

Your heartbeat thunders as the music swells to a crescendo. The moonlight touches his bottom lip as he sputters out a brave vow. Yet, before you can comprehend the words, a force separates you from him. You feel Simon’s arms loosen reluctantly from you.

Your fingers stretched to their maximum in their attempt to reach for him again, and yet it was all in vain—something was yanking you apart from him, opening up a gaping chasm between you and Simon. Alarms blared in your head. Hopes were starting to rot in the lake, swept away by glittering silver and erased from existence altogether. Know your place, my silly little girl, something seemed to whisper. Who put these sickening ideas in your head? I knew this would happen—this is exactly why I told you to stay where I could watch over you, because I know the kind of girl you are.

Simon persisted in his pursuit, desperation in his eyes. His face was twisted with anguish, body extended taut as if bridging the distance between you two. But you were drawn too far now to return to him. The mocking laughter surrounded you; her cruel voice hissing in your ear.

As if the coalescing of the melodies infuse her with fresh determination, the cruel presence’s hold around your soul tightens, her hold tight and oppressive. Your limbs move of their own accord, stretching out your imitation swan wings. Despite the blurred features, you can sense her satisfied smile. The tug of the puppet master pulls you further from the light, a hapless marionette in its malign grasp. 

In a flicker of a moment, your eyes meet his across—an unconfined determination written on his face. You’re caught like a captive moth on a funeral pyre, your wings aching to be saved. The shadows thicken and thicken. Before you know it, they’re engulfing you.

“Finally! C'est ça que je parle!"

A loud voice snaps you back to reality. You peer up and find Henri's face, his features illuminated by a smile so wide it hurts your jaw. He claps his hands together as he walks towards you.

“This is what I have tried to tell you, non? You BECOME Odette! C’est magnifique.” he gave a hearty cheer, and everyone around him began to clap as well.

But, how?

Almost deriliously, you glance around, half expecting to see Simon standing there, answering confusion. Only Jacob watches you with a small smile that brings a flush to your cheeks. You are flustered, but in a nice way, for the first time. And if Henri is right, then this is a good thing—a major breakthrough.

Henri declares, “Ten minutes break!” as the dancers begin to disperse with chatter. You stagger dazedly towards your water bottle.

The mineral water slides down your parched throat, its slightly salty and earthy taste slowly sharpening your focus. Yet something felt amiss. As you dart your eyes around, first toward Jacob and then toward Henri, you notice the two engaged in an inaudible conversation. Then, Henri catches your gaze and responds with a broad, relieved smile—the first you've seen in a long while. From his expression, it's evident that whatever he's witnessed has pleased him.

A few hours later, the rehearsal is over, and you go through one more routine before calling it a day. Facing the mirror, you relive the results of the previous private coaching, spreading your arms wide imagining wings of feathers flapping from your shoulders.

“Good extension… keep the line… reach further." Your coach’s voice guides you as she scans your form from behind. “Alright, that'll do for today. Keep practicing that fluidity.”

You empty your lungs with a sigh of relief. Turning your head, you walk over to the chair where your duffel bag sits and start gathering your things. Your coach takes out her journal, scribbling a few notes before shoving it back in her tote bag.

“You're getting there, sweetheart. Just need more flow, like the swans in the park. You might need to observe more.” Your coach said from behind.

"Okay," you affirm, placing your water bottle back in your bag and preparing to zip it closed.

“Heard from Henri you finally sorted it.”

You paused, and you turned to face her, finding her gaze fixed on you, waiting for confirmation. For a moment, you considered your response. It felt oddly undeserved, as if the praise was misplaced—because despite Henri's approval, you still weren't certain what had changed, what had “sorted”. This... breakthrough, you couldn't promise it would last.

“Maybe.” You said.

The older woman gave a gentle smile. She walked towards you, giving your shoulder a light squeeze. “You're going to do great things, my darling. Just don't lose what's making this happen, alright? Keep nurturing it.”

Oh.

You try to put on a thin smile. “I’ll try.”

With a casual wave, she takes her leave early, mentioning plans with friends to go out for drinks. Must be nice, you thought. The dance studio falls silent in her absence. Soft evening light filters through the window, gilding the mirrored walls in a mellow glow. Returning to your duffel bag, her voice continues to echo in your mind.

The zipper of your bag remains open, presenting an opportunity to take a furtive peek at your phone, still sitting atop your pouch. The screen is dark and silent—tempting. Infused with agitation, your fingers, almost of their own accord, close around the cool metal. Taking a steady breath, you swipe it awake.

Nothing.

Disappointment settled like a heavy load on your chest, only this time it felt just a touch lighter than the first. The dull ache settled in your heart, teaching it to adjust to his absence, even in something as simple as a text. He's a soldier, not unemployed, you reminded yourself. Another rationalization, another excuse—and what you allow is what will continue.

Slipping the device back into your bag, you shoulder it and flick off the last lights. You walk down the dim, empty hallway, passing slowly through echoing corridors alone. Ahead is the overly familiar, dull street you always take to get to the station. Craving a bit of variety, you decide to grab a coffee before heading home.

But it was the tech store a few blocks away that caught your eye.

The newest models of devices, boasting advanced specifications, gleamed beneath the bright lights. Advertisements for durable aluminum phones with promises of long-lasting performance. However, it was the memory of Simon's voice that held your interest instead. The things he had mentioned about his flip phone—how it was harder to track, harder to find.

He's not wrong, of course. New technology offers possibilities—subtle ways of leaving breadcrumbs.

And you, like a hungry pigeon, are eager to follow every trail you can unearth.

You take a deep breath, firming your determination, then stride towards the shopfront. The employee greets you with a sour face—a long day at work, you assume. No matter. Your mind is made up. It'll be a swift transaction.

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