toshidokii-writes

[toshidokii-writes]

Safehouse Secrets

Hallo! This is a random cod oc x oc I wrote for @toshidokii-writes and myself :3

Approx 2108 words

Siren and Wasp had been on a no-contact mission for over 48 hours; no contact with their team, no contact with any high officials besides their direct supervisor who was 500 miles away.

Wasp was used to Siren’s constant silence; she never spoke unless she felt like she needed to, honorable, really. Now, her mask covered up everything but her eyes, which were narrowed in focus as they made their way through the thick foliage of the Russian forest. However, Wasp couldn’t take his own gaze away from Clarissa as she took the lead. It was hard not to notice her hips, which swayed slightly as she walked. It was no secret of what he thought about her, he admitted his crush a few days after joining Task Force 141, but she was all about that “no romance at work” mentality. 

However, a week prior to this assignment, Ghost and Siren went on a solo mission. They were due back at base the same day but ended up staying the night in the car due to weather, when they got home, Ghost and Siren barely looked at each other…

One had to wonder.

“So…” Wasp swallowed his words and was instantly chastised by her phthalo gaze. “Right, so sorry.” He lowered his voice and spoke over comms, still a snarky asshole despite how gentle he tends to be. "How was the mission with Ghost?"

Siren seemed to pause in her stride momentarily before continuing. She shrugged.

Wasp wasn't fooled by her nonchalance. Ghost and Siren were close by working standards, he managed to read each look and movement like it was nothing but a children's novel, something Spencer found himself feeling jealous over. "Are you sure?" 

He felt another prickle of jealousy wring his neck as he watched the back of her head. "Nothing happened that's worth really talking about."

"Sure," Wasp scoffed, feeling petty. If she wouldn't say it outright, then he'd bait it out of her. "everyone sees how you two look at each other; it's all Soap gossips about." 

A wave of green flame overcame him as she spun around. "I don't fuck on the job." The smaller person snarled. "It sounds like Soap needs to do more work instead of gossiping."

Fury lined the edges of Spencer's eyes and he turned away from her. "Whatever you say," he snorted, "I'm your best friend and I just know something happened between you two on that assignment."

For someone so short, Clarissa acted like she was the tallest person in the room. He saw that hickey when she got back a month ago, does she think he's stupid? The way Siren looks at Ghost. Eyebrows scrunched, she continued to lead the way, irritation radiating off of her at the sight of his smug expression. 

They made their way to the safe house in silence. The only sound was the soft tread of their boots and the occasional brush of clothing. Once they got there, the two secured the area and ate two of their MREs. Wasp kept side eyeing his teammate when he thought she didn't notice, jealousy continued to tap at his spine like a hammer and when she finally caught him, the sniper glared. "Are you jealous? Why?" Clarissa growled the question at him, frustration clear in the way she furrowed her brow.

Spencer underestimated how well the shorter person could read emotions. "I'm not jealous." He lied through his teeth but it felt like poison on his tongue.

A swift exhale from her nose. "You are, Wasp." The black haired woman swallowed her food and dug into him. "You've been giving me dirty looks for two days and your questions towards my mission with Ghost are all fueled by your weird jealousy. Stop."

"It's not jealousy… it's just a concern."

"Don't be a dick, Spence." Siren growled, a low warning in her voice. 

Spencer sighed. "I'm not trying to be… you know how I feel about you, right?" He grasped for words like straws. "I'm just trying to understand what happened out there... why you had a hickey."

She stared at him a moment before sighing. "We…" Now she was the one that was struggling, admitting she was wrong was especially hard for the sniper. "We fucked, yeah. But it's not like there's any feelings there, it was just sex."

"Just sex?" Spencer asked flatly.

"Just sex." Siren looked away from him. 

Spencer stared at the cold cement floor of the safe house. "Do you not like me? I just want an answer; I know you don't date at work but we don't plan on staying in the line of duty until we're old and gray, right?" He smiled feebly. "I can wait for you, if you want me to?"

He missed the look of regret in Clarissa's deep green eyes. "I do like you, Spence."

Wasp looked up at her. 

Before he could blink, Siren's lips were on his. Surprised, Spencer leaned into her, placing his hand on the small of her back. At some point, Clarissa's hand traveled up his shirt, tracing his battle scars with careful fingertips. 

Clarissa's lips moved to his jawline, then to his ear, gentle hands tilting his head to the side to give her more access. Humming softly, she nibbled on him. "My pretty boy." 

Siren ran her fingers through his hair softly, tugging at it lightly. Lips like honeysuckle upon his skin left tingles in her wake; Siren's touch felt no less of a goddess'. "Shh…" Her whisper left Spencer begging for more. He squirmed needily in her grasp.

Clarissa's hands traveled lower and Wasp undid his belt with shaky hands. Was this really happening? His best friend, this gorgeous, intimidating, quiet girl wanted him like he'd wanted her all these years. His mind was spinning as she pinned his hands back and kissed his lips. 

Panting, Spencer raised his hips to her with glazed eyes, needing more of her. 

Unable to take it anymore, the man whimpered. "Please… please just take me, sweetheart.” Arching his back, Siren held him close as he rode out his orgasm. “Oh… oh, my sweet petal.” His Irish accent thick on his tongue like honey. “I’m so lucky to have someone who’s as soft as velvet with me.” 

Licking her fingers clean of his juices, Clarissa’s eyes were unreadable as she grabbed his hip and straddled him. “I wouldn’t call my touch velvet, Spence.” She rested her chin on his shoulder and he leaned his head to touch hers. 

Wanting more, Spencer found his hands wandering up her shirt, undoing her bra with one hand while the other explored her breasts, lightly applying pressure on her nipple with a forefinger and thumb. All this attention rewarded Spencer with a soft moan from his best friend turned lover. “Your sounds are foirfeachta, my love.”

“Perfection?” 

He lifted Clarissa’s shirt off and kissed her collarbone. “You’ve been practicing your gaelic.”

She huffed a sigh as he moved his mouth to her breast. “Been around you long enough to know what you call me behind my back.” Siren moaned. Her sounds are music to his ears, the soft and adoring way he looks up at her filling her with both guilt and yearning. Yearning, both physically and emotionally, for more. She wants desperately to be the person he sees her as, but she doesn’t know that she can, if she ever will be that person for him. Clarissa doesn’t know if she’s ever been that person. But here, in this barren safehouse, on this uncomfortable cot, she can be his, just for the moment. Even if… even if it would break his heart. If he was honest with himself, he would realize that they weren’t built for each other, that their personalities clashed far too much for a romantic relationship to properly bloom.

Biting her nipple gently, he rejoiced in her sounds once again. Getting on his knees, he eased her uniform pants off with her help. Siren’s phthalo gaze not meeting Spencer’s mismatched irises could easily be mistaken for nervousness, in reality, it was full of nothing but the heaviest of guilt. 

Wasp kissed her thighs lovingly, they were soft like buttercream, they seemed unfit for someone of such tough nature. Spencer moved up, sliding her underwear down and exposing her to the cold air of the room. Wasp watched as Siren clenched and smiled to himself before pulling her closer to him so he could have easier access. "My, my, so wet already?" His fingers traced the damp pools that Clarissa had created. "So eager." He appreciated her pussy like it was a golden sunrise on the Pacific horizon. 

Like lightning had possessed her, Siren grabbed Spencer's hair in her grasp, with eyes that could intimidate even the toughest of gods, Clarissa Cole whispered her words. "Are you going to admire me all evening or are you gonna eat me out like a good boy?"

A smirk sparked at the edges of her lover's mouth. "I like to admire anything I haven't had before, my petal."

Something in her face changed, Spencer couldn't read it but if he truly knew her as well as he said, he would've seen the realization and shock of what he said. "I- I'm your first?" 

He chuckled. "And I would spend it with no one other than you."

Clarissa's grip on his hair lessened for a moment, as if regretting even being on the cot but regained her composure and returned Spencer's smile. "I'm glad you're sharing it with me, Spence." 

Sick of the anticipation, Spencer used what multiple videos had taught him and begun exploring her sex with his tongue. She tasted… not how he would've expected, which wasn't a bad thing. He used the pointer and middle finger of his left hand to pump into her, Spencer couldn't take his eyes off of her. Back arched, a hand in his hair and one on her breast.

Spencer moaned alongside his lover as he stimulated her clit, Clarissa's constant tugging made him whimper and he used his spare hand to finger himself, desperate for more friction.

"Spen- oh, god…" Siren gasped out, wrapping her thighs gently around his head. "Spencer, how- how is this your first time?"

As he lifted his head from her pussy, Wasp licked his lips. "Am I that good, love?"

Her green eyes were glazed and feverish, messy black hair strands that fell from her usually perfect bun framed her face as her walls clenching around his fingers like a cage. She was beautiful, something more than mythical, no woman was as perfect as she; a goddess in her own sense … in some fucked up way, he understood why Ghost wanted her so bad. 

"You're perfect." Siren said quietly, almost too soft for him to hear.

Blushing, he started again but with a newfound vigor. Her moans were a symphony to Spencer Marsh's ears. His fingers worked harder in her pussy, desperate to please her, to make Siren feel as wonderful as she looked to him. 

"Fuck!" The word escaped her jaws. Her breathing grew deeper and she dug her nails into his scalp.

Not that Spencer was complaining.

His tongue was careful and precise around her clit, not wanting to somehow hurt her. Wasp's own pussy was aching with his touch, breath hitching as he kept his mouth and hands busy. 

"Spence… mmh." Siren's eyes rolled. "I'm so close!"

Thankfully, so was Wasp. Feeling her cum around his fingers sent him over the edge, moaning in unison as they both climaxed together. Wasp gave her pussy one last kiss before getting up and reaching out to Siren softly. However, she got up by herself, legs trembling as the woman got dressed, faced away from him. 

"How was it?" Spencer suddenly felt as if something went very wrong. 

Siren smiled, he was unsure if it was real or not. "That… that was more than amazing, you're a natural, Wasp." She looked at her wrist watch and frowned. "It's time for the final part of our mission though." 

He approached her slowly, like a lion to his queen. "Are you okay?"

Siren nodded, leaning into him. She was faced away but Spencer was none the wiser. Giving him a kiss on the cheek, Clarissa put her armored uniform on and waited for Spencer to get his on. 

He followed as directed and they left but not before letting their higher ups know about their departure. 

It was time for the snipers to shine.

divider credit goes to these lovelies ♡

@anitalenia (18+ banner)

@saradika-graphics (blue stars & moon)

thank you!

[toshidokii-writes]

Safehouse Secrets

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Hallo! This is a random cod oc x oc I wrote for @toshidokii-writes and myself :3

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Siren and Wasp had been on a no-contact mission for over 48 hours; no contact with their team, no contact with any high officials besides their direct supervisor who was 500 miles away.

Wasp was used to Siren’s constant silence; she never spoke unless she felt like she needed to, honorable, really. Now, her mask covered up everything but her eyes, which were narrowed in focus as they made their way through the thick foliage of the Russian forest. However, Wasp couldn’t take his own gaze away from Clarissa as she took the lead. It was hard not to notice her hips, which swayed slightly as she walked. It was no secret of what he thought about her, he admitted his crush a few days after joining Task Force 141, but she was all about that “no romance at work” mentality. 

However, a week prior to this assignment, Ghost and Siren went on a solo mission. They were due back at base the same day but ended up staying the night in the car due to weather, when they got home, Ghost and Siren barely looked at each other…

One had to wonder.

“So…” Wasp swallowed his words and was instantly chastised by her phthalo gaze. “Right, so sorry.” He lowered his voice and spoke over comms, still a snarky asshole despite how gentle he tends to be. "How was the mission with Ghost?"

Siren seemed to pause in her stride momentarily before continuing. She shrugged.

Wasp wasn't fooled by her nonchalance. Ghost and Siren were close by working standards, he managed to read each look and movement like it was nothing but a children's novel, something Spencer found himself feeling jealous over. "Are you sure?" 

He felt another prickle of jealousy wring his neck as he watched the back of her head. "Nothing happened that's worth really talking about."

"Sure," Wasp scoffed, feeling petty. If she wouldn't say it outright, then he'd bait it out of her. "everyone sees how you two look at each other; it's all Soap gossips about." 

A wave of green flame overcame him as she spun around. "I don't fuck on the job." The smaller person snarled. "It sounds like Soap needs to do more work instead of gossiping."

Fury lined the edges of Spencer's eyes and he turned away from her. "Whatever you say," he snorted, "I'm your best friend and I just know something happened between you two on that assignment."

For someone so short, Clarissa acted like she was the tallest person in the room. He saw that hickey when she got back a month ago, does she think he's stupid? The way Siren looks at Ghost. Eyebrows scrunched, she continued to lead the way, irritation radiating off of her at the sight of his smug expression. 

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They made their way to the safe house in silence. The only sound was the soft tread of their boots and the occasional brush of clothing. Once they got there, the two secured the area and ate two of their MREs. Wasp kept side eyeing his teammate when he thought she didn't notice, jealousy continued to tap at his spine like a hammer and when she finally caught him, the sniper glared. "Are you jealous? Why?" Clarissa growled the question at him, frustration clear in the way she furrowed her brow.

Spencer underestimated how well the shorter person could read emotions. "I'm not jealous." He lied through his teeth but it felt like poison on his tongue.

A swift exhale from her nose. "You are, Wasp." The black haired woman swallowed her food and dug into him. "You've been giving me dirty looks for two days and your questions towards my mission with Ghost are all fueled by your weird jealousy. Stop."

"It's not jealousy… it's just a concern."

"Don't be a dick, Spence." Siren growled, a low warning in her voice. 

Spencer sighed. "I'm not trying to be… you know how I feel about you, right?" He grasped for words like straws. "I'm just trying to understand what happened out there... why you had a hickey."

She stared at him a moment before sighing. "We…" Now she was the one that was struggling, admitting she was wrong was especially hard for the sniper. "We fucked, yeah. But it's not like there's any feelings there, it was just sex."

"Just sex?" Spencer asked flatly.

"Just sex." Siren looked away from him. 

Spencer stared at the cold cement floor of the safe house. "Do you not like me? I just want an answer; I know you don't date at work but we don't plan on staying in the line of duty until we're old and gray, right?" He smiled feebly. "I can wait for you, if you want me to?"

He missed the look of regret in Clarissa's deep green eyes. "I do like you, Spence."

Wasp looked up at her. 

Before he could blink, Siren's lips were on his. Surprised, Spencer leaned into her, placing his hand on the small of her back. At some point, Clarissa's hand traveled up his shirt, tracing his battle scars with careful fingertips. 

Clarissa's lips moved to his jawline, then to his ear, gentle hands tilting his head to the side to give her more access. Humming softly, she nibbled on him. "My pretty boy." 

Siren ran her fingers through his hair softly, tugging at it lightly. Lips like honeysuckle upon his skin left tingles in her wake; Siren's touch felt no less of a goddess'. "Shh…" Her whisper left Spencer begging for more. He squirmed needily in her grasp.

Clarissa's hands traveled lower and Wasp undid his belt with shaky hands. Was this really happening? His best friend, this gorgeous, intimidating, quiet girl wanted him like he'd wanted her all these years. His mind was spinning as she pinned his hands back and kissed his lips. 

Panting, Spencer raised his hips to her with glazed eyes, needing more of her. 

Unable to take it anymore, the man whimpered. "Please… please just take me, sweetheart.” Arching his back, Siren held him close as he rode out his orgasm. “Oh… oh, my sweet petal.” His Irish accent thick on his tongue like honey. “I’m so lucky to have someone who’s as soft as velvet with me.” 

Licking her fingers clean of his juices, Clarissa’s eyes were unreadable as she grabbed his hip and straddled him. “I wouldn’t call my touch velvet, Spence.” She rested her chin on his shoulder and he leaned his head to touch hers. 

Wanting more, Spencer found his hands wandering up her shirt, undoing her bra with one hand while the other explored her breasts, lightly applying pressure on her nipple with a forefinger and thumb. All this attention rewarded Spencer with a soft moan from his best friend turned lover. “Your sounds are foirfeachta, my love.”

“Perfection?” 

He lifted Clarissa’s shirt off and kissed her collarbone. “You’ve been practicing your gaelic.”

She huffed a sigh as he moved his mouth to her breast. “Been around you long enough to know what you call me behind my back.” Siren moaned. Her sounds are music to his ears, the soft and adoring way he looks up at her filling her with both guilt and yearning. Yearning, both physically and emotionally, for more. She wants desperately to be the person he sees her as, but she doesn’t know that she can, if she ever will be that person for him. Clarissa doesn’t know if she’s ever been that person. But here, in this barren safehouse, on this uncomfortable cot, she can be his, just for the moment. Even if… even if it would break his heart. If he was honest with himself, he would realize that they weren’t built for each other, that their personalities clashed far too much for a romantic relationship to properly bloom.

Biting her nipple gently, he rejoiced in her sounds once again. Getting on his knees, he eased her uniform pants off with her help. Siren’s phthalo gaze not meeting Spencer’s mismatched irises could easily be mistaken for nervousness, in reality, it was full of nothing but the heaviest of guilt. 

Wasp kissed her thighs lovingly, they were soft like buttercream, they seemed unfit for someone of such tough nature. Spencer moved up, sliding her underwear down and exposing her to the cold air of the room. Wasp watched as Siren clenched and smiled to himself before pulling her closer to him so he could have easier access. "My, my, so wet already?" His fingers traced the damp pools that Clarissa had created. "So eager." He appreciated her pussy like it was a golden sunrise on the Pacific horizon. 

Like lightning had possessed her, Siren grabbed Spencer's hair in her grasp, with eyes that could intimidate even the toughest of gods, Clarissa Cole whispered her words. "Are you going to admire me all evening or are you gonna eat me out like a good boy?"

A smirk sparked at the edges of her lover's mouth. "I like to admire anything I haven't had before, my petal."

Something in her face changed, Spencer couldn't read it but if he truly knew her as well as he said, he would've seen the realization and shock of what he said. "I- I'm your first?" 

He chuckled. "And I would spend it with no one other than you."

Clarissa's grip on his hair lessened for a moment, as if regretting even being on the cot but regained her composure and returned Spencer's smile. "I'm glad you're sharing it with me, Spence." 

Sick of the anticipation, Spencer used what multiple videos had taught him and begun exploring her sex with his tongue. She tasted… not how he would've expected, which wasn't a bad thing. He used the pointer and middle finger of his left hand to pump into her, Spencer couldn't take his eyes off of her. Back arched, a hand in his hair and one on her breast.

Spencer moaned alongside his lover as he stimulated her clit, Clarissa's constant tugging made him whimper and he used his spare hand to finger himself, desperate for more friction.

"Spen- oh, god…" Siren gasped out, wrapping her thighs gently around his head. "Spencer, how- how is this your first time?"

As he lifted his head from her pussy, Wasp licked his lips. "Am I that good, love?"

Her green eyes were glazed and feverish, messy black hair strands that fell from her usually perfect bun framed her face as her walls clenching around his fingers like a cage. She was beautiful, something more than mythical, no woman was as perfect as she; a goddess in her own sense … in some fucked up way, he understood why Ghost wanted her so bad. 

"You're perfect." Siren said quietly, almost too soft for him to hear.

Blushing, he started again but with a newfound vigor. Her moans were a symphony to Spencer Marsh's ears. His fingers worked harder in her pussy, desperate to please her, to make Siren feel as wonderful as she looked to him. 

"Fuck!" The word escaped her jaws. Her breathing grew deeper and she dug her nails into his scalp.

Not that Spencer was complaining.

His tongue was careful and precise around her clit, not wanting to somehow hurt her. Wasp's own pussy was aching with his touch, breath hitching as he kept his mouth and hands busy. 

"Spence… mmh." Siren's eyes rolled. "I'm so close!"

Thankfully, so was Wasp. Feeling her cum around his fingers sent him over the edge, moaning in unison as they both climaxed together. Wasp gave her pussy one last kiss before getting up and reaching out to Siren softly. However, she got up by herself, legs trembling as the woman got dressed, faced away from him. 

"How was it?" Spencer suddenly felt as if something went very wrong. 

Siren smiled, he was unsure if it was real or not. "That… that was more than amazing, you're a natural, Wasp." She looked at her wrist watch and frowned. "It's time for the final part of our mission though." 

He approached her slowly, like a lion to his queen. "Are you okay?"

Siren nodded, leaning into him. She was faced away but Spencer was none the wiser. Giving him a kiss on the cheek, Clarissa put her armored uniform on and waited for Spencer to get his on. 

He followed as directed and they left but not before letting their higher ups know about their departure. 

It was time for the snipers to shine.

[toshidokii-writes]

Re: Damnation onwards Leon coming home from work tired af putting on those baby sensory fruit videos for puppy hybrid reader so they sit on the floor swaying their tail aimlessly and stop yapping at everything for 5 seconds, only for his exhausted and perhaps somewhat tipsy ass to also become transfixed on said dancing fruit so when Claire or Chris comes over they're just like 'hello why didn't you answer the d- oh what the fuck' cause they both just staring at the screen with Leon half asleep and reader's head following every little fruit movement okay that's it goodbye

[toshidokii-writes]

wrote a small blurb about ghost that i thought of while high lol

content/warnings: soft dom! ghost x reader, 2nd person (you/yours), oral sex (male receiving), bit of degradation, gender neutral reader

18+ Content; Read At Your Own Risk

soft dom ghost putting two fingers under your chin and making you look at him as you suck his cock.

“let me see those eyes, pretty thing.” a soft tone in that rough voice, an almost loving look on his face, brown eyes that have seen so much violence and yet for you there’s only affection.

It’s mostly lust, but you’ve gotta give him credit for the affection swirling in between.

he’s not gentle in the traditional sense of the word, but he is /soft/. he can be mean if you ask or if he wishes, but won’t go out of his way to be cruel to you.

you meet his gaze with your own dazed eyes, cheeks hollowed as you do your best to make him feel good. drool runs down the sides of your mouth from your hard work and it should be gross, but to simon you’ve never looked better. his other hand pulls at your hair, before gently pushing you further down, just enough to make you gag slightly. he scoffs at the sound of it, a small tsk of false disapproval.

“can’t you do better, baby? pretty thing like you should be a pro at this by now.” he coos softly, the soft tone of his voice and the degrading words making your already hazy brain spark with something you can’t quite comprehend, its lust and want and affection and so many other things that just get blended into a frozen margarita of submission.

his hips stutter slightly as he pushes deeper into your throat and you can hear his breathing hitch as he groans quietly. he grits his teeth as he holds your head to the base of his dick, making you swallow his cum. you do so happily and pant as he slowly pulls you off of him. he tucks himself away before helping you to stand, ruffling your hair like a dog that’s down well. “good job, bunny. such a good little plaything for me, aren’t ya?” his voice is like gravel and it shakes you to your core as you dazedly let him take care of you, a warm feeling in your chest as you smile dopily at him.

he doesn’t say anything, but the small warm smile on his face tells you all you need to know.

[toshidokii-writes]

You hate the 141 pack. Fucking alpha hole wankers who think they're better than everyone else. You've hated them since you were a damn rookie and they looked down on you during training. Yeah you're smaller as an omega, but you're also quicker, have keener senses.

The bitterness goes both ways. You and them do not get along, there have been several attempts to get each other into trouble and it's well known that any op you are on with them comms will be a disaster.

Now the military puts everyone on industrial grade scent suppressants, obviously. Which means it comes as a fucking surprise when you and Ghost run across one another on leave and discover you're fucking scent matches. Obviously the rest of the team can never know, the two of you need to pretend this never happened.

Should be totally doable not giving away that you know he smells like sex on a stick and your omega now craves his cock like nothing else, is now whining to know what the rest of your scent matches smell like. Should be easy for him to explain away to his pack why they are getting feral lust from the pack bond anytime you walk into the room.

Yeah, totally doable and easy. Everything will be fine.

[toshidokii-writes]

simon knew it was over the moment he realized just how freaky you are.

simon knew he was massive—he always had.

it was a quiet fear that followed him, the thought that if he lost control for even a moment, he might hurt you. his touch was always careful, deliberate.

his hands were wrapped around your neck, not tight, but gentle—just enough to feel the pulse beneath your skin. his thumbs rested softly against your throat, his grip light, careful not to leave a mark. but when you started frantically grinding your hips against his, rolling your body in desperate need, everything shifted.

a low, guttural noise rumbled from his throat as his body responded on instinct. without meaning to, his hands tightened, gripping your neck for leverage as you moved against him. he froze for a second, startled by his own strength. but then—

it happened.

you clenched tighter around him, your head falling back as a broken moan escaped your lips. you were crying out, completely undone, lost in the moment. your hips bucked harder, desperate for more, and it hit him like a bolt of lightning:

you liked it rough.

you, his innocent, angelic girl — the one with soft smiles and bright eyes, the one who blushed at the smallest touch — had been hiding it all along.

he stared at you, stunned, as you begged with your body, your innocent exterior cracking to reveal the wicked, burning desire beneath. his angel wasn't just soft and sweet

—you were freaky.

a low growl rumbled in his chest as he leaned in, the ghost of a grin tugging at his lips. “you've been holding out on me, haven't you, lovie?” he murmured, his voice dark with amusement and something far more dangerous.

[toshidokii-writes]

‘Really really weird request, I know’

‘But could you please pick up a pregnancy test or two on your way home?’

‘I’ll explain when you’re here xx’

Gaz and Soap’s heads turn towards the sound of their Lieutenant dropping his phone to the floor.

“All good there, LT?” Gaz asks, watching as Ghost stands apparently stupefied to the spot where he stands, still staring at his empty hand where his phone had been.

“Look like you’ve seen a Ghost.” The Scot snickers to himself, earning an eye roll and a half-hearted swat to the chest from his fellow Sergeant.

Ghost finally snaps himself out of his shocked daze, grabbing his phone off the ground and silently sprinting out the door in the blink of an eye.

By the time he’s made it to his front door, a shopping bag carrying two of each brand of pregnancy test he could find at the closest shop dangling from his fist, Ghost is scrambling to get his key in the lock and find you wherever you are in the flat.

The normally ever so stoic man finds himself struggling with the mundane task, his mind in a frenzy over the idea of there being a baby inside you. A baby he put inside you.

It seems you’ve been just as eager for his return home, because you hear him at the door, unlocking and swinging it open for him.

“Oh thank god you’re here. She’s been a wreck all morning, hasn’t let me leave her to run to the shop myself.” You blabber, standing up on your tippy toes to quickly press a kiss to his still mask covered cheek, snatching the bag from his hand at the same time.

He is standing there stunned, when he spots who he recognizes as your best friend sitting on the couch in the living room, surrounded by wadded up tissues, obviously appearing as though she had just been crying.

“What-”

“She’s worried it’s her ex boyfriend. From before they had broken up.” You whisper quickly in his ear, thinking that you’re simply catching him up to speed as to why he had to go and fetch a test for your friend to use.

Unbeknownst to you, you’ve turned Simon’s world upside down for the second time today, all in less than a half hour.

As he watches you walk towards your friend with the dozens of tests in hand, he wonders if he can’t stash away a few for the two of you to put to use yourselves.

[toshidokii-writes]

“I also grabbed that oatmeal you liked.”

“Mhmm.”

“You know, the one we tried a few weeks ago, and you were certain you wouldn’t like.”

“Mhmm.”

“Luckily by the time I made it out of the gym they wer-”

“Mhmm.”

You finally glance up from where you’ve been unloading the groceries onto the kitchen counter, eyebrows scrunched in confusion as you look to your boyfriend.

Sure enough, Simon’s not listening to a word you’re saying. Eyes locked on the steady jiggle of your tits in your tight new sports bra, as you continuously bend down and bounce back up with item after item.

He doesn’t mean to ogle you so obviously. Well maybe that’s not so true. Really he doesn’t mean to be ignoring you as he ogles you so obviously. But today it appears his lower half is in control of his attention span.

Narrowing your eyes at him, you wonder how long it’ll take him to snap out of his trance.

“So yeah, thought we might start having oatmeal more often now.”

“Mhmm.”

“Maybe three meals a day.”

“Whatever you say, love.” He answers, eyes still fixated on your chest, clueless as to the smirk beginning to spread across your face.

“Might even change my license plate to ‘oat-mobile’, watcha think ‘bout that?”

“Sure thing.”

You’re shaking your head to yourself in disbelief, a smile still splayed on your lips. At this point you’re turning around to put things into their rightful cupboards. But you think there isn’t anything behind you he won’t stare at either? While you’re wearing those workout shorts??

“Looks like they updated the class schedules at the gym too.” You continue, glancing back over your shoulder and seeing that, sure enough, Simon’s gaze has shifted to your ass.

“Mhmm.”

“Think they’ve got some new trainers or somethin’.”

“Mhmm.”

“Heard one of em’s quite hot. The men’s personal trainer. Maybe I’ll ask if he stretches the women out too.”

“Okay lov- wait what?!”

Got him.

[toshidokii-writes]

my muse

[toshidokii-writes]

like ok he didn't have to look so sexy dying

[toshidokii-writes]

Everything changed when that pregnancy test read positive.

The day you fumbled into his office, bearing what you thought to be bad news, John's excited face threw you for a loop.

Wasn't he supposed to be upset? Tell you that he didn't want to have a kid with someone he didn't fully care about? Why was he crying? Why did he embrace you so tenderly?

"I'll be there for both of you, Dovie," Price reassures in the nook of your neck, arms caging you against his chest.

Take care of both of you.

Both?

"M-Mr. Price, with all due respect—"

Price cuts off your protests. He leads you out of his office. His large hand grips your waist more possessively. "Go rest your feet up in the lounge; I'll take care of everything." His lips press to the crown of your head, ushering you away gently at the reception entrance.

You were supposed to have one fun night, not to be locked in for the rest of your lives.

Your days of working at a desk were replaced with John's house. It was far from the bustling base you had grown used to. The space was warm and homey. Bits of memorabilia were scattered about. Medals adorned the walls, and old photos sat on the shelves.

John said you only have one job now: making yourself at home.

There was so much space that you didn't know where to start or even how to start! It's not like there was a plan for having your boss's child! So much was happening so fast it left you overwhelmed, sitting on his couch with nervous hands. "Mr. Price, I'm really not sure about all this; I mean... what we did was a big mistake, right?"

From upstairs, you hear John laugh. He's been up there all morning, fixing the nursery for your child. He wanted to create a special room for them, saying that his kid deserves nothing but the best. Heavy footsteps announce his presence as he closes the distance between you. Calloused fingers grip your chin, forcing you to look into his ocean eyes. "You don't want this?"

His touch has you melting, words dying on your lips as you get lost in those eyes. God, why did he look at you that way? Churning like laundry, your gut writhes. A violent spin cycle grips your innards, knotting and wrenching them mercilessly. "I never—I never said that; I just think we're taking things too fast, don't you?" The half-hearted mumble escapes your lips, unconvincing even to yourself.

John's expression shifts; his eyebrow raises in slight scrutiny. "If you believed that, you wouldn't be here."

He's right.

"I do-"

He cuts in swiftly, voice firm. "You don't."

John's grasp tightens on your chin. He leans in, eyes intense. Your heart races. His lips brush yours. The kiss—chaste yet electric. A moment suspended in time. Emotions flood through you both, unspoken but palpable. "You have me. Whatever you want is yours, all you have to do is say the word."

John waits, poised for your word. His eyes betray a craving—silent, deep, and raw.

He belongs to you. He's all yours.

Your lips purse in a line, lip caught between your teeth.

Anything you want?

"I don't like the color of the nursey..."

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

P1

❥ I wasn't originally gonna do a part 2 but... I really like this one, next fic will be longer, possibly fluff and smut maybe who knows ❥

[toshidokii-writes]

Napping with Price 

No warnings, just fluff.

Price sleeps like the dead, so clear your schedule if you’re planning on napping with him. No alarm will rouse him, no tactfully placed elbow shall wake him. One nap lasted four hours and you missed your dinner reservations, and you lost the feeling in your right hand for an hour afterwards.  

Nap with the Captain at your own peril. 

But you’ve never been good at taking your own advice. 

You rouse slowly, a great weight pressing you into the mattress makes your breath hitch. John’s face is pressed between your breasts, his hot breath tickling your skin as he sleeps peacefully above you. 

“John,” you groan as you try and shift the half-naked man from atop you, but it’s no use. You look up at the ceiling and let out a frustrated sigh. Your phone is just out of reach as you stretch out to try and grab it. 

“John, come on,” you whine and try to wiggle under him, but you’re pinned, completely immobile as he smothers you from the chest down. 

“Sleeping,” he grunts, making your skin vibrate at the low timbre of his voice, “Go back to sleep.” 

“Come on, I’m hungry,” you protest as you shove at his broad shoulders, but it only serves to encourage him to nuzzle his face into your breast once more. 

“Five more minutes,” he bargains, before humming happily as he presses a soft kiss to your clothed chest. 

“You’re incorrigible,” you grumble as you scrape the nails of your free hand along his scalp.

A soft “hmmm” is all you get in response as John is drawn back into the deep dark abyss of sleep. 

You stretch a little further to try and grab your phone, but still, it’s just out of reach.

You smile to yourself in exasperation, you know you’re going to wake up in five hours to a disorientated and – very likely – horny man. 

Might as well get some sleep yourself. 

It’s going to be a long night. 

[toshidokii-writes]

Imagine you're the medic assigned to the task force. You're not some dainty little thing. You're snappy and will drag them by the ears if you have to. You're constantly getting into arguments with Price because he won't listen to you when all you're trying to do is help him.

Anyway, the rest of the team has bets on how long its going to take before you two finally fuck. Gaz gives y'all another month. Soap says two weeks. Ghost thinks that you've already done it.

Now, imagine how mad Gaz and Soap are, both giving Ghost 50 quid each when Price casually drops that not only do you have sex on the regular, but you've been married for the last five years.

[toshidokii-writes]

Simon loves being Price's demonstration dummy. He loves the aftermath even more.

cw: sexual content, a horny lieutenant, body worship, oral sex, anal sex.

"Start by securin' a grip on yer opponent's arm with one hand, and use the other hand t' grab their collar or shoulder. Carrier vest works well too."

Simon stood at his captain's side, his body relaxed as he prepared to go airborne in the name of practical demonstration. He'd be lying if he said it wasn't his favourite part of the week... well, that and what always followed.

He watched Price from beneath low lashes, drawing deep, slow breaths through the fabric of his mask, if only to keep his bloody heart from thumping through the wall of his chest in excitement. Price's hands warm and firm against his body even through the cotton of his shirt, and his skin tingled in their wake.

"Step t' the side and lower yer hips while bringin' yer opponent close to ya," Price said, his attention on the new recruits gathered around the mat. Simon didn't resist as his captain drew him close, but he did breathe him in; sweat, deodorant and cologne, a deep musk that gathered at the back of Simon's throat, made his mouth water. Simon wanted to shove his nose into his ruffled hair, underneath his arm, across the ruff of his chest, for that scent to soak through to his bones.

"Yer shoulder should be positioned under their armpit. As ya pull yer opponent forward an' down, rotate yer hips and shoulders into them. Use yer legs t' lift an' drive yer shoulder into their body. Big fuckers like this? You gotta use their weight," Price moved and Simon's feet left the floor, "against 'em."

Simon's back hit the mat, punching a grunt from his chest, and he felt the familiar thrill unfurl down his spine as Price's body crowded over him. He studied the dark v-shape of sweat in the front of his shirt, the glisten of wet up his throat that disappeared into the scruffy stubble of his beard. Fuck, Simon wanted to lick it off him.

"As yer man's thrown, maintain yer grip t' control his fall and prepare for a transition into a dominant position or submission. Grapple, choke. Don't pause t' catch yer breath," he explained, half sprawled over Simon's body, his thick chest pressed to Simon's, so close that Simon felt the vibrations of his voice against him. "Any questions?" There weren't any. "Good. Pair up. Technique over strength."

The squaddies grabbed a buddy and headed to the other mats, and Price looked down at his junior officer's face. "You bulkin'?"

"Yeah."

"Thought so. Had to put some welly behind that one," Price said, lopsided grin making Simon want to shove his tongue down his throat. Those blue eyes framed in scruff and laughter lines, the curves beneath his sloped collarbones, the effortless way he had thrown Simon's sizable bulk to the floor, his form perfect, the explosive power in his body exercised with trained precision; everything about him made Simon feral.

The captain rolled to his feet and Simon grabbed the arm he offered down. "Take the four over there. Positioning like that's gonna lead to somethin' tearin'."

"Rog."

Simon wandered over to correct the indicated trainees and Price observed another set. This latest batch were promising, but they were almost skittish in their desperation for approval. More likely to make mistakes and second guess themselves. They needed to relax into it, listen to their instinct over the noise in their head. Simon decided to break the ice with the next demonstration.

It was a simple manoeuvre that tended to be a whole lot of fun to finish the session; the ranger roll. Quick and snappy way to pluck someone from the field and leg it under fire. Price was a pro at it. Simon upped the difficulty by latching onto a nearby bench, locking his legs so that Price flailed on his back halfway through the roll, splayed over Simon's belly with an arm hooked under his knee.

"What the fu--?" Price glanced up, saw Simon's ploy and elbowed him in the gut in retaliation, smirking. "Ya bloody muppet." The recruits laughed, their stances noticeably relaxing as Simon shrugged apologetically. Ice broken. Price rolled to his feet and performed the move again. This time, he lifted Simon from the floor, and Simon draped over his shoulders with a soft, satisfied hum. Fuckin hell, he needed Price on his back, needed those strong thighs around his hips, needed to hear that gruff voice sex-rough, fucked raw.

Simon suffered through another twenty minutes of watching others perform pale imitations of Price, before the captain finally dismissed them to the showers, heading out of the gym to his room.

Simon stayed long enough to ensure no one lingered by the dumb bell rack before swapping out of his boxers and shorts to a pair of grey joggers; he wanted as little between him and his prize as possible. Hands shaking, he knocked at Price's door after pursuing him down the corridors, shouldering his way inside only when Price greeted him from behind it. "Feelin' impatient, Simon?"

Simon watched as Price stripped off, revealing damp curls of chest hair, the sweat-slick curves and slopes of his body, still pumped from exercise, thick and flushed. His mane of brown scruff was ruffled out of place, sticking up in all directions, begging for fingers to grab it, to tug until he was forced to show his throat.

Simon's cock thickened in his joggers, pressing out against the soft grey material, and he folded his mask up above his nose in anticipation. Price chucked his t-shirt onto the floor, standing there in his shorts and nothing else, built like a fuckin greek hero and begging to be defiled, blue eyes dark. "C'mon then, boy. Come get it."

Simon didn't need telling twice. He growled low in his chest and surged forward, barreling Price into his bed, his mouth pressing to his throat as he ground his hip forward between Price's thighs. "Mmf, fuck, yeah," Price moaned, fingernails snagging in Simon's t-shirt as he bucked eagerly.

Price arched, his body begging for worship even if his voice stayed stoic, understated. For now. Simon buried a hand in his hair and pulled his head back, sucking and laving biting kisses down the arch of his throat to his chest, mouthing thick muscle with desperate, wet licks, before sucking a nipple into his mouth with a grateful moan. Price tasted like heaven, raw masculinity and power, and Simon wanted to overwhelm him, overcome the strength roiling beneath his skin, possess it and feel it wrapped around his prick until it yielded to him.

Mine, mine, his mind chanted, his nose burying in Price's armpit as he forced one of Price's arms above his head. Simon ran the flat of his tongue into the groove of it, tip flicking over the veins in his bicep before he sucked kisses into that flesh too. Price gasped, a low, raspy sound deep in his throat, his erection pressing up into Simon's belly, and Simon sank off the edge of the bed as he worked lower.

There was a layer of plush on Price's abdomen and Simon nipped at it, tonguing the trail of hair that disappeared below the waistband of his shorts, before wrenching those down too. Price's full cock bounced free, the slit wet with precum, but Simon ignored it to bury his face in the dark curls around his sac, inhaling the deep musk of him with a feral, half-wild growl.

"Filthy git," Price said through a throaty laugh, only to dissolve in a low moan as Simon sucked, wet and open mouthed, at his balls, teeth threatening tender skin in a way that made Price's cock twitch and throb with arousal. Simon didn't leave him waiting too long, swallowing the thick bulb of his glans to the back of his throat, tongue writhing and wriggling beneath his shaft. Price arched, strong fingers scrunching at Simon's mask and then dropping to grip the blonde tufts that escaped the back of it.

Simon let him fuck up into his mouth, his arms curling around his thighs to pull them apart, Price's heels nudging the backs of his shoulders. It was erotic, the way Price's body moved in search of pleasure, even splayed and vulnerable. His command didn't falter. "Nnh, Simon, fuck, fuck... Yer mouth's a bloody treat, sweet'eart."

Simon growled and pulled off, leaving strings of saliva and cum to trail down his chin to the tip of Price's cock as he stared up the naked length of him to the mischievous blue eyes watching him. Price knew what he was doing. Knew how he was baiting Simon to fuck him until his legs didn't work and his throat was raw from the moaning. Simon's cock ached, the brush of soft fleece enough to make him rut forward against the mattress in search of pleasure. "C'mon, Simon. Fuck me," Price snarled, strong thighs testing Simon's grip on them.

Simon surged up his body to smash their mouths together, teeth catching chapped lips, the taste of copper between them as he snatched the bottle of lube from where Price had chucked it in full anticipation of the railing he was about to receive. Simon squirmed out of his joggers, thick cock rutting into the sweat and spit slick skin of Price's hip, fisting the bed sheets with one hand as he gathered enough self control to tilt to the side and soak his cock in lube. A messy fist smoothed the gel down to the base before gathering Price's legs up his torso, his tip pushing into the snug grip of Price's hole.

"Mmf, fuck, slow, slow... Fuckin hells," Price snarled, nails biting into the side of Simon's neck as Simon quivered under the strain of self control. He rolled his hips in short, measured thrusts, easing in slowly, hunching down to kiss the grimace of concentration off of Price's face.

Simon was a decent length, nothing to sniff at, but it was the girth that truly satisfied, left people wrecked. It had taken previous lovers time to work up to and even Price, practiced and experienced, huffed deep breaths as his body yielded to it. "God bloody fuck, mm..." Price cussed, pushing his head back as he rocked up to meet Simon's hips, sliding himself up and down the full length of him. "Yeah, tha's it, right... Ah, right there, Simon, fuckin... Ah."

He was fucking beautiful like this. Beautiful. There weren't a word that fitted better. Blue eyes misty, his head thrown back, the flush of pleasure down his neck, splashed across his furred chest. His legs spread wide and wanton as Simon's fat cock sank into his greedy hole. Simon wanted to look, but he also wanted to taste, his teeth scraping through the scruff of Price's beard on their way to his neck. The pace was sweet torture, the pleasure curling up his spine, his balls pulled tight, sinking in all the way to the hilt, hoping Price'd be able to feel him in his guts if he thrust deep enough.

"G'wan, fuck me proper, boy," Price rasped, rewarded almost immediately with a firm thrust that startled a yelp out of him. It was all the encouragement Simon needed, gathering Price's legs to his shoulders as he began to piston his hips at a relentless pace, fucking hard and fast into the warm, wet clutch of Price's body.

Simon loved making Price loud, his bitten off cusses peppered with lower moans, gasps that almost bled into whines when Simon found the right angle. It was a complete and utter fracture of his iron control, and Simon revelled in it. His own noises ran away with him; snarls, growls, Price's name, his title, sir. The dizzying pleasure unspooled through him from head to toe, the day's tension burning out of his muscles with every pant of exertion, Price's body milking his cock with the most delicious friction.

Price didn't touch himself. He never did at first. He liked being fucked; liked the way a thick cock felt as it spread him open and pounded his prostate, his hands fisting the bed sheets as he met each thrust, demanding. When Simon shifted onto his feet, curving Price's hips up until he was fucking down into him like an animal mounting a mate, deeper, harder, than before, Price finally fisted his cock in search of his building release.

Simon lost track of anything but the heat of Price's hole, the pulsing clutch of it around his prick, the increasingly desperate noises each of his thrusts punched out of Price's chest. His orgasm curled up his spine, pulling taut in his muscles, his balls high and tight as he held off until the end he desired.

Price's hand stuttered and then he was spilling, thick ropes of cum splashed over his chest and neck, his impressive cock throbbing and flicking in the circle of his fingers as he teased himself through the aftershocks. Simon went to pull out, but Price snarled, "Don't you... fuckin dare. "

It flicked a switch in Simon's head, cut the final thread of a chord that had kept him tethered, and he began to rut like the animal he was. The wet slap of his hips grew louder as he chased his high, Price's groans broken around the pain-pleasure of overstimulation, his hole more lax post orgasm, relaxed, sloppy with lube and precum, the noise of Simon's cock fucking into it as obscene as his command to be bred full that punched out in the next breath. "Fuckin... breed me, Simon."

Simon came with a bitten off shout, grinding down into Price 's body as his balls emptied in hot, heavy pulses. Price moaned, pressing up into Simon's hips, rocking slowly as Simon's stuttering thrusts ended with him staying as deep as he could until his cock had stopped twitching, brimming Price with a week's worth of frustrated build up.

"Fuckin hell," Simon rasped, slumping down onto his elbow as he drew out, satisfied by the wetness that covered Price's thighs in the aftermath, and the puffy redness of his fucked out hole.

"Hope they do," Price murmured, shaking legs dropping off the edge of the bed. Simon slumped onto his back, and Price rolled onto his side, following him. "You broken?"

"Nah. Fuckin knackered."

Price barked a laugh. "Simon 'One Nut Wonder' Riley."

"Fuck off," Simon blustered through a laugh of his own. "Aren't you meant to be gettin' a limp dick at your age anyway?"

"Watch it," Price shot back, but without heat. He patted around blindly for his cigarettes and lighter, striking one up between his lips. He took a toke before passing it across to Simon, who puffed smoke at the ceiling thoughtfully.

"Surprised maintenance haven't beasted you for that smoke alarm yet."

"They'd have to catch me first."

"Wiley bastard."

Price smirked as Simon passed the cigarette back, smoke curling from his nose as they both gazed thoughtfully into the dark above them, comfortable and quiet in the afterglow.

They fucked again a few more times that night; slower, closer to lovers than the raw fuck of earlier, and Simon spooned up behind his captain, thrusting into him as he tenderly kissed his neck, drawing out softer moans and praise. "Yeah, Simon... Mm, fuck, that's, ah, ah, please..." The way Price arched into him, muscular body spreading itself eagerly to be pleasured, gravelly voice demanding and pleading in equal measure, made Simon heady with lust and adoration.

Simon wasn't sure what the fuck they had, what it was called; he knew it was wrong by the standards of the service, but they'd have to pry it out of his cold dead hands.

[toshidokii-writes]

smiles thank u for the tag :3

VILLAINOUSLY tagged by @girlvinland to describe myself w/ 9 images that I already have saved. it really really is just dinosaurs and big pants

spreading the virus now to @sealer-of-wenkamui @heraldofcrow @upon-wings-of-black and @kayleighwhatever. if they want B)

[toshidokii-writes]

Lottie I'm kissing you so hard rn your photos and edits are always just so satisfying to look at!!! ૮꒰ ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ྀི꒱ა

omg hi fawn ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ i’m kissing you back…thank you AHH

also your new theme is sooo calming!! makes me feel like i’m all cozied up on a patch of grass and surrounded by nature with the sun beaming on me I LOVE IT

here <3 hope you’ve been doing super well

[toshidokii-writes]

nightmare in the daylight

knight!ghost x fem!reader

based on my prompt that you can find here.

warnings: non-con/dub-con, size kink, spanking, oral (f.receiving), fingering (f.receiving), thigh riding, biting, creampie, breeding kink

a/n: i feel so rusty so please be gentle i rewrote this way too many times, it was a lot longer and had more plot but i might just end up writing pt.2 if there is interest, I added a tag list for those who wanted to see this! 🫶

Ghost hadn't anticipated encountering a robbery on the forest trail while en route to collect his king's future wife. It was unexpected but not unwelcome; he was yearning for a skirmish, for blood and broken bones. The recent tranquility had left him restless. These bandits wouldn't pose much of a challenge, but they would at least satisfy his craving.

The skies began to pour as soon as he dismounted from his horse, startling the highwaymen. They were engaged in a one-sided fight with a few knights who had undoubtedly been sent to protect the carriage on its way to his kingdom. Before any of them could react to his arrival, heads started rolling. Chaos erupted once more, with screams of terror cutting through the forest and startling the remaining fauna.

After the final enemy fell to a sword through his abdomen, Ghost approached the carriage with slow, deliberate steps. As he opened the door, he was taken by surprise as a curtain was thrown into his face and a shard of glass was aimed for his neck by a scrawny, wild-looking maid. Despite your trembling, there was a fierce determination in your eyes, a vow that you would not give up without a struggle. Beneath his face plate, the corner of his mouth curled up, and with a wry snort, he deflected the shard from your bleeding hand. Seizing you by the back of your neck like a feisty kitten showing its claws, he pulled you out of the carriage and dropped you onto the chilly, muddy ground. As he turned back to the carriage to retrieve the princess, he realized she was no warrior; she had fainted at the sight of his imposing figure silhouetted against the moonlight.

As he carries your mistress to his horse, you launch at his back, kicking and screaming, trying to make him let her go. He unceremoniously deposits her on the horse like a sack of potatoes. Finally, he turns back to catch your hands, which have been beating at his back, with one of his much bigger hands. Your eyes go wide with terror as the reality of your position with this beast sinks in. He can't help but relish in the look of you now, wet hair sticking to your face, wild eyes, and scratches on your cheek from the broken glass. You look like a tasty meal for his beastly appetite and he's been starving for far too long. You are unaware of it but attracting his attention will be the worst mistake of your life. As he draws you closer with your bound wrists, he whispers into your ear so that you can hear him over the pouring rain, “Yer brave but stupid, girl.” After that, he hits the back of your neck and everything goes black.

The next thing you know, you are standing in front of the king who explains the entire situation. However, somehow that doesn't help the sinking feeling in your stomach, especially when the king mentions a reward for the behemoth of a man towering over you. He is still covered in blood, and daylight doesn't make him any less terrifying. He stalks around like a nightmare in black leathers that hug his form tight and emphasize his width. As if sensing your thoughts, he takes a step closer, taking up more of your space, and before you can move away, you catch the last words uttered by the king: “You brought me, my bride, Ghost, it's only fair you get a reward. Take your pick - anything you wish for will be yours.”

A weighty, gloved paw settles on the nape of your neck, causing you to startle. "I'll take 'er." Your mistress immediately starts to protest but despite her objections, the king simply nods and smiles, disregarding you entirely. You have no option but to allow the beast, that he called Ghost, to guide you away with a firm hand on your nape.

After navigating through several twists and turns, you find yourself in an unremarkable room. It contains only the absolute necessities—a bed and very little else. The one thing that draws your attention in the room is the sizeable tub that is still emitting steam, indicating it was just filled a few minutes ago.

Silently, Ghost pushes you towards the tub, and you promptly begin to retreat away from it. You refuse to bathe in his presence. Even though you are just a servant, you are still a virtuous lady.

“Either you go voluntarily or I'll throw you in kickin' and screamin'.” He growls and then says, "I'll relish it either way." You can sense the predatory undertone in his voice. You're fighting a losing battle, as going willingly gives him complete control, yet resisting might provoke an even more... primal response.

You break free from his hold, realizing that he let you go willingly. 

"Can you... turn around?" he scoffs, moving to a chair that creaks under his weight. Leaning forward, elbows on his knees, he gestures for you to proceed. Though you want to scream or lash out, you hold back, sensing that he's waiting for you to lose control. Instead, you turn around and slowly peel off your muddied and torn dress. As you reach the chemise underneath, you sneak a peek and notice he has removed his helmet and face plate, revealing short dirty blond hair, black coal marks around his eyes, and prominent scars cutting through his lips and brow. Despite his broken nose, he remains strangely alluring, which frightens you. Hastily, you turn back, slide the chemise down, and attempt to hide under the steaming water.

"Good girl," he growls, satisfied with your obedience. Just as the relief that maybe this is all he wanted starts to sink into your bones, it's replaced with dread when you notice he starts shedding his clothes too. He loosens up his dark, blood-stained leathers with ease and deftness you wouldn't expect from a man his size.

"What are you doing?" Panic is evident in your question, but it doesn't seem to bother him at all.

"Can't bathe with my clothes on," he answers matter-of-factly. Once again, a wave of indignation courses through you, but it's quickly overshadowed by a pang of heat that forces you to rub your thighs together underwater. Your eyes can't help but stay glued to him, just as he did to you when you were taking your dress off. He is now down to his breeches, and when he pulls them down his thick thighs, you audibly gasp when you notice he is not wearing anything underneath. This earns you an amused chuckle, especially when he catches you looking again through your fingers.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him, but before your thoughts can drift to what lies between his powerful thighs, he steps into the tub with you. Water spills over the edges, though he doesn't seem to mind. He pulls you close, turning you so your back presses against him, your body nestled between his legs, leaning on his firm chest. The light tickle of his hair brushes against your skin, and his strong arm rests across your stomach, fingers splayed making you feel even smaller. The contact makes you squirm, but as you try to pull away, you only stir the hardening length behind you, making you flush with heat.

“Relax,” he grunts into your ear, more command than a suggestion.

“How can I possibly –ah.” Your reply gets cut off by a moan as his other hand falls from the edge of the tub and wanders between your legs. Your attempts at closing your legs seem futile even with one hand he is strong enough to force his way in and drag his fingers through your folds nearing the opening. Your spine arches instinctively and he answers with a nip to your neck and jaw, while forcing a finger up to the first knuckle in. 

“Gotta loosen you up a bit, pet.” You have no choice but to surrender to his touch as he sinks his finger in and curls it, drawing a moan out of you before you clap a hand over your mouth to keep the sounds in. But all that decorum is forgotten when he adds a second one and scissors them before slowly prodding you with the third making you see stars. The tension building in your body suddenly snaps, sending you reeling, legs going numb and your fingers digging into his arm still wrapped around your stomach. 

With your mind hazy from your first-ever orgasm, you don't even register that he pulls you out of the bath, drying you, and carrying you to the bed in the center of the spacious room. Your body already half asleep.

His gravelly voice pulls you out of your post-orgasmic haze. “Naive, little thing.” Suddenly he is trailing hungry, open-mouthed, and nippy kisses down the length of your body. Marking your neck and collarbones with angry red marks, biting down harder than necessary on the underside of your breast leaving behind imprints of his teeth, and making you hiss when the pain mixes with the pleasure, he licks a trail down your stomach and in a moment of clear-headedness you try to fist his hair and tug him up and away from your center but his hair is cut too short for any leverage. When you lock eyes with him, between your legs forcing them open with hunger and lust written all over his face you try to get away just for him to deliver a loud smack to your outer thigh before dragging you closer and licking a stripe through your folds with a loud guttural groan that you feel more than you hear it.

His thumb circles your clit while he alternates kissing, sucking, and fucking you with his tongue. When your squirming in an attempt to get away turns into grinding your hips against his face, his other hand rests on your stomach adding slight pressure and making you cry out which only spurs him on. The sounds that reverberated through his chest were nothing short of animalistic and when your second orgasm shot through your core, you fell limp against the sheets with a moan that would make you blush if at least half of your brain was still functioning properly. A new wave of panic sets in when you realize that he isn't stopping. On the contrary, he probes you with his fingers in addition to his tongue. You can feel the coil in your lower belly tightening again, heating up with his ministrations.

You plead with him, saying you can't take anymore just for him to disregard it with a growl, “You've got plenty more in ya.” 

You've lost count of how many times you came when he manhandled you around onto your hands and knees propping your hips up with a pillow. You turn to look at him with heavy-lidded eyes and your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him standing behind you with his massive hand tugging at his thick, angry-looking, and leaking cock with his eyes glued to your core, still pulsing and wet from all your previous orgasms. Without warning he grabs your hips, aligns the blunt head of his cock with your entrance, and pushes in. Your fingers dig into the sheets from the sheer stretch as you mewl and whimper when he drags himself all the way to slam back in. Everything is too much and not enough at the same time, with every thrust his fingers dig into your hips and you are sure there will be fingerprints left with how hard he is gripping you and the idea makes you wetter. Prompted by the delicious drag of his cock your walls keep tightening around him, as he pushes you closer and closer to your release. One of his muscular arms circles your waist, his chest flush to your back, as his other arm comes to rest next to your head with one of his legs still firmly planted on the floor and the other resting next to you on the bed for better purchase. This new angle combined with the gravelly grunts so close to your ear become your undoing and you hurtle full-force into another mind-numbing orgasm with Ghost following close behind.

“Come f'r me, pet.” Again, not a suggestion but a command and who are you to refuse him? So you do as he says, pussy fluttering from the aftershocks as he fucks you through it, thumb circling your clit before he fills you up, not allowing you to move an inch, keeping your hips propped up and when he pulls out which drags another set of whimpers from you he meticulously pushes his spend back with thick, calloused fingers. “Gotta make sure it takes.” 

If your consciousness weren't slipping away, you'd likely be alarmed, but instead, your eyes begin to close again, and this time, sleep claims you.

You wake to a heavy weight pressing down on your back, and it takes a moment for your mind to catch up with the events of yesterday. When it does, your entire body flushes and you attempt to move out of bed, only to find it futile. You're pinned beneath strong arms marked with scars—some from arrows, large and small, and others older, circular, and still appearing raw.

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted as a thick, muscular thigh presses deeper between your legs, forcing them apart. Without much thought, you begin to grind against it, a primal urge stirring within you. Despite the lingering soreness from yesterday, a fresh wave of need starts to build, and any trace of resistance fades in the face of overwhelming pleasure. It feels shameful, but you can't stop the tentative movements, slowly finding a rhythm—until the sudden flex of his thigh makes you gasp, your eyes rolling back.

“So needy,” he growls close to your ear but there's no trace of anger in his voice, if anything he sounds pleased. “Come on, ride it harder.” He punctuates the sentence with yet another flex of his thigh and a nip to your neck, making you shudder but follow through with his command. As you grind back against his thigh you take a note of his cock stirring, resting heavy and hard between your bare ass. You push against it absentmindedly and find yourself pinned under him, your legs still held apart with his thigh that's now embarrassingly slick with your arousal. The visual of it makes you turn your head away, eyes closed and whimpering. Ghost doesn't like that. His massive paw of a hand grabs at your cheeks, your lips puckering involuntarily while he grunts at you to keep those eyes open for him. As he licks into your mouth, it suddenly dawns on you—this is your first kiss. You had already let this beast inside you before even sharing a kiss, and everything felt so out of order, that it made you want to scream and cry. Instead, you settle on throwing your hands around him and clawing at his back as he aligns himself with your needy, sore pussy and thrusts to the hilt without so much as a warning.

Even after yesterday, the burn of the stretch to accommodate his length makes fresh tears spring up into your eyes and roll down the apples of your cheeks. You swear you see his scarred lips twitch up into a savage smile at the sight of them before he licks them clean off your cheeks with a satisfied groan. In retaliation you dig your nails deeper into his sturdy back, hoping to break the skin and leave a mark that only ends up urging him to fuck you harder, faster. The sounds reverberating in the room drive you crazy; over them, you don't even notice a soft knock at the door but whoever it was scurries away registering the sound of the moans he wrings out of you with one particularly hard thrust that pushes so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat. Effortlessly he manhandles your legs on his shoulders to hit a different angle. As you struggle with the overwhelming feeling of fullness he leaves a deceptively soft kiss on your ankle before he folds you in half again and wrestles another mind-shattering orgasm out of you and succumbing to one himself, painting your insides with his spent. Pulling out, he doesn't bother moving, he simply rests his head on your chest between your breasts, squeezing the air out of your lungs with the sheer size of him. “Rest now, pet. Plenty of time for more o' that later.”

At that moment, you know there is no turning back; you've been taken, branded from the inside out. You wonder if this is truly so horrible, perhaps this nightmare of a man will drive away all the other nightmares plaguing your mind.

Or perhaps he is even more dreadful than your imagination could have ever conjured.

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