birdkatze

[birdkatze]

alpha!ghost who's always hated the sound of an omega's purr; he’s always found it patronising, manipulative, an attempt to twist his biology - twist him - into submission like he's some animal

until he hears soap purr for the first time and it's about as choppy and comforting as a machine gun. there's nothing smooth about it, nothing seductive or wily; it's broken and guttural and the most honest noise ghost's ever heard outside his own growls

he doesn't use it to coo him into complacency, doesn't try to bend him to his will or smooth over his bristles. he's never tried to distract ghost from his anger, never used his intrinsic control over him to gentle him. hell, he seems to forget he can even do it, ghost hears it so rarely. it's only a touch above his growls, subharmonic and demanding attention instead of the pretty titter of a pampered omega

ghost hears it for the first time when he’s covered in blood not his, after he slits an enemy pinning him down from navel to chin; dark blood instantly soaking him. the body’s practically cool with blood loss already when he tosses it aside and rolls to his feet to find soap stock still, staring at him with a feral gleam in his eyes

he drops his jaw with a deep inhale, rolling the scent of blood and pissed alpha pheromones in his mouth and his chest rumbles with all the subtlety of a chainsaw

it's suddenly all ghost can do to keep himself from dragging the body and dropping it at soap's feet like a courting gift of old; to carve out his heart and rich organs and present them for his approval, to hold them to his mouth and never break eye contact as he takes his first bloody bite

ghost shakes it off, strangling the chuff trying to claw out his throat, and heads for the rv point and feels absolutely nothing when soap falls into step behind him without a word; his purr that more closely mimics an alpha's rumble an echoing memory

soap's far from a meek, compliant omega and he's no conniving prince wrapping alphas around his finger either; he's just as much a protector, an aggressor, as any alpha. he's never been ashamed of his instincts; never shied away from nuzzling into price's throat, purring for his pack alpha with no regard to the uncomfortable crowd surrounding them. never hesitates to wrap gaz up and drop him in his nest when the beta reeks of stress and sickly insomnia

and he never stops himself from baring his fangs with a guttural hiss whenever another omega dares to purr at ghost

it's a threat and a warning in one; something only the most foolish omega would ignore. he knows ghost has a complex relationship with omegas, knows it isn't something so pathetic as biological prejudice. something about omegas makes his lt's scent go flat and steely, as close to distress as he thinks he can manage and it makes something dark and old rise in his chest

territorial rage broils off him, strong enough to make the omega whine and back off with their tail between their legs without even taking a step towards them. the scent is sour and pungent enough to drown out ghost's subtle distressed smell, to hide it, and it makes him snort; shaking his head to try and clear it

soap all but trots up beside him, chirping in greeting. he sneezes playfully, lets him know the rage scent wasn't for him; never for him. he replaces it with happy-friend-pack, replaces it with nitroglycerin and burning sparklers and butts his forehead against his sternum instead of crowding into his throat and purring the way he wants to

he earned his way into ghost's pack, into becoming an omega not just accepted but welcomed and he won't jeopardise his hard won progress by pushing his purr on him

he lifts his head and grins as ghost cups his nape in a faux-scruff, something offensive and borderline taboo and if he were anyone else, he'd rip his hand off with his teeth. but it's ghost and ghost does strange things, things that reassure him on a deeper level than any purr or chirp could ever hope to, so soap presses into his gentling hand and bares his teeth in the thinnest facsimile of a smile at the retreating omega

all ghost has to do is aim him in the right direction and he'd bring the omega back to him in pieces; would gift him their torn out throat so they could never purr at him again

his chest rumbles subconsciously and soap gnashes his teeth, forcing his purr back down when ghost squeezes his nape

he thumps his temple into his and a puff of air tickles his ear, the closest thing soap's ever heard to a chuff from him and he couldn't stop his purr if he tried; choppy and broken as it is

you inhale enough explosive fumes and it's bound to damage something

ghost huffs again and soap presses up to nibble appeasingly at his clothed jaw, a question and an apology in each bite

ghost just takes the tip of his ear between his teeth, shaking it with a teasing growl and soap laughs as he tackles him just for ghost to bow over his back and wrap his arms around his waist; effortlessly picking him up and tossing him away

soap stays low and growls right back, a wild smile splitting his face. ghost meets him with a sneeze and his grin grows impossibly wider

if he can't hunt for his alpha, can't purr for him with blood on his teeth, he'll happily wrestle with him instead

[birdkatze]

TBH maybe more people would rp with real humans instead of chatbots if we sat them down and taught everyone proper roleplay etiquette

[birdkatze]

imagine being kyle’s partner. met him at some bar a few months back, the one night stand turning into two. then four. then more.

it’s jarring to see how where you two are now. sure, he was a good fuck, but he’s an even better boyfriend. everyone you know loves him, and everyone he knows loves you.

well, except price.

and it would be so much easier to ignore him if he wasn’t so significant to kyle. boss, captain, father figure. if kyle puts you on a pedestal, he has built a shrine for price.

fondness that teeters on obsession.

still, it’s not your place to say anything. he’s probably just looking out for him! after all, you’ve heard about his nasty divorce (it was kyle who told you. you can count the amount of conversations you’ve had with price on one hand), and that he just wants the best for his sergeant. his son.

so you leave it. whatever is between them is none of your business. besides, the worst thing price has done is send you a sharp glare. there’s absolutely nothing to be worried about.

until you catch your boyfriend on his knees for his captain, face pressed right into john’s pubic hair. his adam’s apple is more pronounced, thanks to the thick cock jammed in his throat.

it seems his adoration leaned more towards affection then.

[birdkatze]

Showing my cock things it's never seen before

1. The inside of a sprite can

2. h..hopital

[birdkatze]

"But werewolves aren't real?" || werewolf! 141 x werewolf! reader Part 9

Future pairings = poly 141 x reader

Chapter pairings = everyone but Ghost/reader

Words = 1.2k

[Chapter 8] --- [Chapter 10]

Summery: After moving out of the big city and into the forest, you meet some men that might have some awners about whats been causing your pain.

Explicit under the cut, smut this chapter

The rest of the evening is spent snuggling in the living room. Gaz and you curled up on one of the recliners, he gently kissed and nipped at your jaw as you were snuggled. Gaz’s chest began to rumble softly, eventually settling out into a soft purr.

Soap was curled on top of Ghost, with Ghost gently scratching his back. Soap tucked his face into Ghost’s neck, breathing in his scent.

Price was relaxed in the recliner simply watching everyone. He had a glass of whiskey in his hand and seemed as if he was going to melt into the recliner at any moment.

It wasn’t till late that Price and Ghost made everyone go to the nest. They didn’t want anyone to have a hurt neck or shoulder during pre-heat and pre-rut.

Gently you got pushed into the middle of the nest with Soap hugging you like a back pack and Gaz curled up next to you with Price curled around his back. Ghost did the same thing as Soap but instead tucked his face against the man’s shoulder with his arms around Soap’s middle. You could feel Ghost’s arm against your back and it was another level of comfort in the nest.

Simon and Price also made sure to pull a few blankets over everyone so nobody got too cold during the night (Soap).

Your dreams were filled with sweat and sex. It was similar to the dreams you had during the full moon. You felt yourself getting oddly wet and fairly warm. In your dream you were again in the ass up face down position as you were gently taken from behind. You couldn’t see who it was and it almost didn’t matter with how good you felt.

You whine as the pace slows down, why were they stopping? Then the person picked up again but much faster after they readjusted, hitting all of your good spots.

You let out small noises of pleasure as the person began to plow into you with their girth. You were drooling with ecstasy as the pace remained steady, then the person reached around your waist and began playing with your front, it pulled a deep climax out of you. You let out a small breathy noise as the pace slows to a stop.

You felt oversensitive but needed more. You try to reach back to try and urge the other person but your arm hits nothing but air. You blink sadly, you needed more. You had never felt so horny before and now it was all you could think of.

The needy feeling started to wake you up with the safe smell of the den invaded your dream and you could feel warm breath fanning over your neck. You look around the room sleepily, it’s just about dawn and everyone else is sleeping.

A strong thigh had made its way in between your legs and it took everything in you to not grind against it. You could feel it rubbing against your sensitive leaking parts causing you to leak even more through your thin underwear.

You bite your tongue and try to stay as still as possible as the thigh moves and shifts so it’s pressed against you more. Tears prick in your eyes and you are incredibly tense. You wanted to chase your pleasure but felt guilty if you used any of them men in their sleep. Soap’s breath fanned over the back of your sensitive neck making you whimper.

Then the thigh starts to shift back and forth as you feel Soap kiss the back of your neck. “So pretty duckie..all slick for me” Soap whispers “We have to be quiet, don’t wanna wake everyone up duckie..”

Soap gently ruts against your ass trying to not jostle everyone inside the nest. You rock back against him biting your tongue. The stimulation while sweet wasn’t doing anything for you and you just felt frustrated.

Soap in his haze didn’t notice and rutted against your ass for a few moments more before cumming all over your back. He paused and nuzzled against you again “So good duckie..”

You nearly whine when Soap pulls his thigh away from you. It was covered in your slick and fluids making you whine. Soap quickly shushed you before falling back asleep, stated for the time being.

Grumpily you reach a hand around your middle and play with yourself in effort to get that delectable release. The more you tried the worst it felt, it was if your hand wasn’t doing it right. Frowning, you carefully untangle yourself from the pile of limbs and go to the kitchen to get a glass of water and to find something to wipe the drying cum off.

You fill the plastic cup with water from the fridge and watch the forest for a moment before a horrific feeling takes over you. A sudden pain floods your whole body and you feel as if you were being turned from the inside out. It was worse than how you had felt the night they had left you. Whimpering you feel relieved when your cup finally fills all the way with water. You grabbed it and went back to the nest shivering and feeling more miserable than you left it.

Gaz cracked his eyes open as you entered the room again, sitting on the edge of the nest absolutely downing the water. “Duck, did ya’ go out of the nest?” his tone has a soft concern lacing it.

Setting down your empty water cup you climb back into bed next to Gaz and Soap. “Yeah, why did I do something wrong?” your voice wobbles as you curl up next to him.

“You don’t look good, c’mer.” Gaz tucked you close and gently ran his hand down and up your back. “It can be really painful for omegas during heat to leave the nest, I should’ve told you that…”

You nod and cuddle closer to Gaz as you slowly feel the painful feeling ease away and the desire to slowly overtake it.

“Why’d you leave the nest?” Gaz asked quietly.

Cringing you realize you never go off Soap’s fluids “Uh to get some water and to get a towel to get Soap’s cum off my back.” You grumble crankily. “He- I” you fume into Gaz’s neck. “He got me so worked up and didn’t finish me off, he came all over my back! N’ I didn't get anything.”

“Oh did he now duck?” Gaz sounded annoyed with Soap as he kissed your forehead.

“Mmhm.” You hum pressing closer to Gaz. The longer you stayed in the nest the more the burning hot feeling of desire filled you. “Gaz….I-“ you whine before he cuts you off with a kiss on the lips.

“I’ll help ya’ duck don’t worry..” Gaz smiled as his hands ran over your skin. He ran his fingers over your chest and gently ran his thumbs over both of your nipples, pulling a quiet gasp from you and making you get turned back on again.

One of Gaz’s hands stays on your chest and the other slips down to your hips playing with the hem of your underwear. “This okay duck?”

“Mmhm.” You nod feeling your mind turn syrupy with need. “Please, need something so bad…”

Gaz quietly chuckled and moved his hand under your underwear “You’re soaked duck.” he groaned as he felt the slick covering your underwear. “Oh fuck..” Gaz let out a pleased noise as he easily slid a digit into your hole, “Oh you need it baaad.”

You could feel Gaz’s hard dick press against your leg. “Let's get these off duck, don’t want to ruin them more..” You nod helping Gaz pull off your remaining clothes.

You could hear the rustling of the blankets as a sleepy Price peaked over Gaz’s shoulder. “Oh duck..” Price looked thrilled “Looks like heats settling in quite good in’ it Gaz..”

“Mhhm” Gaz hummed as he went back to fingering you. “Duck’s leaking like a fountain.”

“Oh are they?” Price sat up fully watching both of you. “Wanna have the first round Doll? Get duck all warmed up for our knots with your pretty little cock?”

Gaz nodded eagerly. “Is that okay duck?”

Nodding you look between the men feeling so needy.

Gaz smirked and climbed on top of you. He had a slightly smaller penis than what the average would be in both length and girth but it made sense due to Gaz’s omega status. Your legs parted instinctively and Gaz made quick work of sliding inside of your puffy rim.

“Oh fuck duck, you’re a vice.” Gaz moaned breathily against your ear, he paused for a second giving you both an adjustment period. You felt full and in near total bliss.

Once Gaz started moving you were in ecstasy. You moan softly everytime he pushes in and pulls out over and over again, his thrusts keeping you in a constant fit of pleasure. You felt like your head was underwater with how good everything was, you let out a confused noise when Gaz suddenly stopped.

“I know you can use your tiny little prick better than that, it’s not there to look pretty right now…” Price rolled his eyes meanly before slapping Gaz’s ass putting him in gear. “Do better Doll…”

Nodding eagerly Gaz went back to it thrusting in and out quickly and hitting all of your good spots with every thrust. Small breathy moans fell from his mouth as you kept clenching, the drag of his cock through your gummy walls made both of you blissed out.

Soon the pleasure hit its peak and you could feel your climax wash over you with Gaz quickly following. As Gaz pulled out he watched his non-fertile sperm slipped out from your hole, “Duck…” Gaz said breathily his pupils were blown out. “You are stunning…”

Price snorted. “Okay, okay someone’s heat got triggered.”

“Oh, did it?” Gaz turned to look at Price in a horny haze.

“Mmhm, you're leaking like a fountain and your scent has changed..” Price hummed.

“I’ll take care of im’~” Soap sat up eagerly, “Pleasseeee..” he whined.

“Not after I heard how you ‘took care’ of duck.” Gaz frowned.

“Oh?” Price looked between the men.

“Humped duck-” Gaz finger quoted “-helped get them off and came all over their back and didn’t get them to cum! Duck was miserable!”

Soap got an apologetic look on his face. “Oh, sorry duck..” he shrugged with a small bashful smile.

“You’re an over excited puppy” Simon sat up finally. “I’ll take care of Gaz and you’ll watch, we don’t want unhappy omegas..”

Soap nodded glumly as Gaz crawled around him and over to Simon.

Price straddled you, his dick resting on top of your stomach, compared to any dick you’ve ever seen it was a monster. It was leaking pre-cum like a faucet. He was uncut and had a few veins running from bottom to tip. The weight of his balls resting against your stomach felt heavy and you felt excited.

“Ready duck?” Price asked with a confident smirk.

You nod your head. “Yeah..”

Price moved between your legs and inserted a few fingers inside of you “Oh duck..” he groaned. Your hole was slack due to your heat and happily enveloped his fingers. Feeling comfortable that you wouldn’t tear, Price spread your legs and slowly slipped inside. It felt like he was rearranging your guts.

He started to thrust slowly pulling punched out moans from your lips. “Faster please..” You whine.

Price followed suit. His hands ran over your chest playing with your nipples, he ran his calloused fingers of the buds occasionally pinching them gently. He grinned as you moaned breathily.

Glancing over you could see Gaz getting taken apart by Ghost with Soap watching, Gaz’s face was lax with pleasure. His moans were quiet and breathy, he had his eyes closed but the others didn’t seem to mind.

You felt your peak crescendo as Price’s knot, oh god they have knots, started to catch on your puffy rim. The gentle haze that had been taking over your mind as time continued on was making things feel more and more intense.

As Price’s knot popped you blacked out from pleasure.

[birdkatze]

"But werewolves aren't real?" || werewolf! 141 x werewolf! reader Part 8

Future pairings = poly 141 x reader

Chapter pairings = everyone/reader

Words = 1.3k

[Chapter 7] --- [Chapter 9]

Summery: After moving out of the big city and into the forest, you meet some men that might have some awners about whats been causing your pain.

Explicit under the cut

Soap woke up slowly, sighing happily, snuggling against the bed and with the warmth of the blanket. The faint scent of duck filled his nose, it was a lovely sweet smell but not overpowering. Soap felt his dick stirring against the sheets. He had been pent up for a while now, since the pack started to complain his libido was too high he had been trying to rein it in. He softly groaned as he rutted his chub against the sheets. He must have been close to a rut at this point, he let out a small whimper while nuzzling against the bed sheets, duck’s sweet smell only made things worse for Soap.

A gentle hand started rubbing up and down his back “Soap…” the voice was soft and sounded like duck’s. Soap shuttered as dream duck started to run their hands over his shoulders and into his hair.

“Suds, ya need to get up…” Gaz’s voice startles Soap out of his sleepy-horny haze.

Looking around he noticed Gaz and duck standing on opposite sides of the bed with Price standing in the doorway with some bags. Mortified Soap’s boner deflated instantly “I’m sorry duck, I- I uh”

Soap could feel the warm feeling that came before pre-rut, how he felt more wolfish than usual and how he radiated the scent of firewood with a tinge of gasoline. “Ah should leave, rut’s comin,”

“Duck’s heat is starting and if you want Soap-” Gaz started before Soap cut him off.

“What if duck’s heat isn’t a uh-” Soap scrunched up his nose “-sex heat? I um-”

“If duck ends up not needing anything then one of us will help out” Price set down the bags to stand by the bed. “I think everybody’s cycle starts soon anyway..”

Soap nodded, still looking sleepy. Price gently helped him out of bed and downstairs where he could nap some more without being in the way of nest making.

Gaz turned to you with a smile. “This is one of my favorite things to do..”

You and Gaz went through all of the combinations but it all felt wrong.

You started to cry, “M’ sorry I don’t know what’s come over me I just-”

“Let’s take you to the den and see if that works okay?”

Nodding you pick up some stuff, mainly a few blankets. Gaz called the other two men up and gave them the task of packing up the perishables and loading them in the car while Gaz helped you pack some clothes (you wouldn’t need them) and most of your blankets.

The drive up is quiet with Soap leaning against you in the back of the truck, with Gaz and Price in the front seats.

The den looked like a regular house on the smaller side built into the mountain, but the interior clearly went into the mountain. The front rooms of the house looked normal with a mudroom, a kitchen, and a decent sized living room. Then they led you to the bedroom where instead of a door there was a really pretty archway. You hardly had time to look at it before Soap nudged you into the room and over to the nest.

He looked like an attentive puppy, he kept trying to get you in the nest but Price held him back and took him into the living room so Gaz and you could set up and add your things to the nest.

It went much quicker and you felt like you could breathe. Eventually you couldn’t resist the pull and layed down in the nest. Soap upon hearing the rustling of you getting into the nest, practically sprinted into the room and quickly climbed into bed.

Whining, he pulled at your clothes. “Not supposed to be in here duck..”

Gaz swatted Soap’s hands. “Suds if duck wants they can strip but don’t force them!”

Soap pouted, giving Gaz a kicked puppy look. “But-”

“It’s okay, I feel kinda warm, if it's alright I wanna get my top layer off at least.”

Soap stuck his tongue out at Gaz before helping you out of your clothes leaving you in only your underwear. As soon as your clothes migrated to the walls of the next Soap was nearly on top of you snuggling against you happily.

“It’s naptime duckie” Soap mumbled into your hair, wrapping his arms around you.

You could feel yourself getting very sleepy, “Gaz cn’ you grab my sleep mask? It’s in my green bag..”

“Here ya’ go duck” Gaz handed you the sleep mask, it was a baby blue with dark blue embroidered closed lashes. Gaz also pulled one of the blankets you bought with Price down over you and Soap.

At some point Soap wakes you up and herds you to the living room and then goes into the kitchen and starts cooking. The other three men have taken up residency in the living room watching Tv. Ghost was reading, laying the long way on the couch, Gaz and Price were in the two recliners commenting on where they thought the plot was going.

Ghost looked up at you as you came in, his readers sitting a bit precariously on his nose. “Johnny finally let ya’ go luv?”

“Yeah…I think.” You glance back to the kitchen as you yawn. “That was a really good nap..”

“Come ‘er” Ghost sets his book off to the side and motions for you to come over to the couch.

You pad over to him and he pulls you on top of him. He put you so your head was resting on his chest. You make a small happy noise and he kisses the crown of your head, “Is that a good spot luv?”

“Mmhm..” You hum against his neck feeling very comfortable.

Simon snorted before running his hand on your shoulders, gently rubbing them as you both turned to the TV. Gaz and Price swapped over to an Adam Sandler movie, so you wouldn’t have to get caught up on what happened.

It felt hard to keep your eyes open as you laid on top of Simon, eventually he pulled you into a sitting position so he could get some water in you. The boys managed to get four glasses of water in you before Soap called for dinner.

Walking into the kitchen, you got hit with mouth watering smells. Your tummy growled as you looked at the food, it was steaks with twice baked potatoes and fruit.

Soap pulled out your seat before walking around the table to his spot. He sat across from you on a bench with Ghost. Gaz sat next to you and Price sat at the head of the table. Soap’s eyes lasered onto you watching you take your first bites.

As you started eating you nearly moaned because of how good everything tasted. Soap picking up on your delight looked like an excited puppy before digging into his like a starved man.

Yawning Gaz puts a hand to his forehead. “I think my heat is about to hit..” He grumbled.

“Think our ruts are too..” Looking at Price with an aparasing look, Simon huffed “You stunk up the store for a while, I had to open some windows…I erd’ Linnie excited about it, I think she thought you were gonna invite er’ to the den or somethin’ got mad when you brought duckie with ya”

“I have no clue where she got that I liked her in my head..” Shaking his head, Price took a sip of his water “I’ve actively avoided her for decades and said to her ‘I don't like you’ what 300 times to her face..” chuffing he rolled his eyes “Sorry you had to deal with her duck, I wanted lunch to be nice and for you to feel taken care of before your heat..”

“I really didn’t want ya to get thrown in the deep end so sorry duck” Gaz looked at you with sympathy. “We’ll take care of ya’ though.” Gaz promised with a smile.

“We’ve got you covered duck” Soap smiles wolfishly.

You nod. Smiling you ate, you hadn’t felt this at peace in decades. It’s as if everything clicked into place. “I trust you guys do.” All three men smile as you say that.

[birdkatze]

"But werewolves aren't real?" || werewolf! 141 x werewolf! reader Part 7

Future pairings = poly 141 x reader

Chapter pairings = everyone/reader

Words = 1.7k

[Chapter 6] --- [Chapter 8]

Summery: After moving out of the big city and into the forest, you meet some men that might have some awners about whats been causing your pain.

Explicit under the cut

The drive into town wasn't terrible. Price decided to take you into the smaller town that was only a 15 minute drive instead of the large one.

“They have a lot of handmade stuff here, it's better than the stuff in the big box store…”

Nodding you look out the window as you parked, the town was very picturesque with everything in very good condition. It surprised you, you had definitely expected it to be a bit more run down.

Price, as if reading your mind huffed “Me and the others help keep the town running, we do a lot of repairs and construction..” he grasped your hand and looked at you with a more wolfish expression before licking your face.

You gasp and look at him feeling not as grossed out as before but still…You look at him confused and indignant “Whyyyyy do y’all keep doing that!”

“Gotta scent you..” Price replied, leading you away from the car and into the stores. “There are a few other wolf packs and other occult around..”

Price held the door into a shop and nonchalantly dropped “They need to know you're ours.”

Blue screening for a moment you look at Price shocked, but he quickly leads you into the back of the store. “Wait, are you the guy I talked to on the phone about the construction?”

“Mhhmh, I was wondering when ya’d pick up on that” Price smirked “Pick a few n’ then we'll grab some pillows and get some late lunch.”

You browse through the different fabrics, you pick up a few but set them down as soon as you feel the textures you set them down. You smile after you find three each plush and soft, you show them to Price “Are these ones good?”

He looks at you fondly and nods, “If you like them then they work..now let's grab a few pillows and some pillow covers.”

You nod and let Price lead you around the store again.

“What types do you guys like?” You ask, glancing up at Price.

“Why?”

“Well I assume you guys are gonna spend some time at my house and I want y’all to be comfortable.”

“I’ll grab them, you just pick what you like, yeah?” Price ran his hand gently up and down your back for a moment before moving on to grab the pillows like you asked. You grab a few longer ones and call it a day, trying to find Price only to get stopped by Ghost.

He froze like a deer in headlights. “Uh sorry for this morning…It was wrong of me to say the thi-” he glanced down at his hand and looked flustered for a second “-ngs I did, I am very sorry…?”

Looking closely you could see the smudges of black marker on his hand and wrist.

Ghost’s face was pink from blushing knowing he was caught, he turned away “Sorry my face goes red at random, it's because of how alpha I am.” His deadpan voice carried a hint of sarcasm which caused you to let out a breathless laugh.

“Alright…um do you know where Price is?” Ghost looked around for a second before leading you over to Price. Glancing you see smudged ink all over his hand. Rolling your eyes, you couldn’t tell if he didn’t mean the apology or if he needed to write it down.

“Figure your shit out Simon?”

“Yes Price..” Ghost gave Price a bit of an exaggerated look of exacerbation, his face still tinged with pink.

“Okay, well wring us up…” Gesturing at the cash register, Price glanced around. “Had a lotta traffic today?”

“A very angry Gaz and a group of vampires…”

“Like twilight?” You ask curiously.

“Not quite, duck” Simon replies in a mellow tone. “We don’t have a tiff with them at’ll, quite a good group of blokes most of the time…”

“It’s the fae you have to watch for, Linnie is an ass that’s for true..” Simon huffed as he started to wrap up your order, he paused looking at one of the blankets fondly “I like this one, was a pain to make with the embroidered bits on the corners but its beautiful, I hope this does in your nest���

You nod “It looks really pretty…I take it you make a lotta the stuff in here?”

“It’s hard to find stuff that fits occult bodies at times so I try to make it easy…” Nodding Simon gives you and Price a soft smile before he packs everything up and gives the paper bags to you and Price.

It wasn’t till you and Price got into the car to set the stuff inside did you realize that Price had paid for your stuff. “I can buy lunch..” you offer quickly “Since you paid for that stuff..”

“Duck,” Price paused. “Unless you don’t want this and we’d understand if you didn’t, you are a part of our pack and we take care of each other. Plus I just had to do that so it didn’t look like Simon was embezzling money or something…I can’t remember, it was a hundred years ago when he almost got in trouble for that..”

“Well let me take care of you and pay for your lunch?”

Thinking for a moment, Price begrudgingly nods. “Alright duckie.”

“Yay!” You smile at him happily.

Price leads you into the smaller restaurant “Do you like fish and chips?” he asks as he sits you down. “They have other stuff but it’s my favorite by far.”

“Yeah I think it’s good, I like the tarter sauce!” Smiling you add “It’s also good with lemon…I think I had them with brown gravy one time in the south and mmhmmm, orgasmic” you describe in a deadpan voice.

Price snorts “‘I’ll have to try them with gravy sometime.”

“Can I get either of you anything to drink, perhaps a round of water?” the waitress gives you an odd look but smiles kindly to Price, “I’m Linnie but you know that~ and I’ll be serving you both today~”

“Can I get a lemonade..?” Price asks

The waitress nods and gives a flirty smile to Price. “Sure thing sugar~”

“Can I get the raspberry lemonade?”

“Sure.” The waitress gives you a tight smile before leaving.

“I just want to ask how you are holdin’ up luv.” Price clasped your hands in his. “I know this is a lot, do you have any questions or any reservations? I want to make up for last night and make you as comfortable as possible with all of this..”

“Um, it is a lot…” You trap Price’s boot between your sneakers “It’s very nice to not be in pain though-”

“Do y’all know what you want to eat?” the waitress cuts in.

“We will both take the fish n’ chips.” Price hands the menus back to the waitress.

“Coming right up!”

“Please continue, duck.” Price gave you a genuine smile.

“I do like y’all, it should be alarming but it’s like everything kinda clicked into place? I love spending time with you guys and I've never felt safer…It feels quick. I mean I met y’all yesterday…”

Price nods along. “That’s how it goes with werewolves…either you click or you don't with a pack. Gaz I think would be good to talk to about this because of his experience with his second pack.”

The waitress places the fish and chips in front of you both. Price’s looked really good whereas yours were burned and over cooked. You almost frown but go to shrug it off, it looked edible still.

“Linnie” Price spoke in a flat tone “Would you mind if we could get a different plate, this one looks burned and the lemon smells rotten…”

“Oh! Oops..” Linnie grabbed the plate and went back to the kitchen, she gave you a side eye before leaving.

“Thanks” You say quietly to Price.

“No problem duckie.” Price smiled.

You both ate your food, the fish and chips were really good which pulled a smile onto your face. You sucked down your lemonade and water quickly, you felt oddly really thirsty and almost famished which made sense since you hadn’t really eaten or drank much in the past week. As you both finished up you excused yourself to the bathroom.

You felt oddly warm as you washed your hands. Looking in the mirror you notice your appearance looked a little wild, you also seemed a bit warmer than usual. Shrugging it off you go back out only to find Price had paid much to your protest.

“You really didn't need to do that..” You pout as you get out to the car “I-”

“Love, I just wanna get you back to your house.”

“Why…?”

“I think your pre-heat is starting sweetheart…”

“It is?”

“Mhhm..” Price hums, looking at you concerned. “What’s going on in your head?”

“I’m kinda scared to be honest.” You explain, watching the view out the window as Price drove. “You guys are still okay with taking care of me right?”

“I think Gaz would kill me if we don’t.” Price set one of his hands on your thigh and squeezed your thigh twice, giving you a fond look. “We also like you duck, you seem like a very good person.”

“Even though you’ve only known me for like a day?”

“Yes duck.” Price glanced over at you tilting his head slightly. “Werewolves are good judges of character for the most part and pack bonds are easily formed when people are compatible.”

“Oh.”

“You alright, love? I know this is a lot in a very short time, it was similar for me n’ Ghost. We just clicked instantly, n’ same with Gaz and Soap.”

Nodding, you see the cottage pull into view “That makes sense..”

As the car pulls to a stop Price runs out of the truck to open your door.

“Here ya’ go duck.” Price smiles at you genuinely.

You climb out of the truck and smile back at Price. All four of the men, for the most part, had been very sweet to you and it made you feel so soft and special.

“Can I kiss ya’ duck?”

You blush and smile. “You promise not to lick my face?”

“Yes duck, I won’t lick your fa-”

You cut Price off and press a chaste kiss to his lips as soon as you have confirmation he will not be licking your face. He freezes for a second and you think you’ve done something wrong up until he pulls you back into a deeper kiss.

As you two part you hear a wolf-whistle from Gaz as he stands in the doorway to the front door. “Let’s get you set up duck! I can smell you from here..”

You blush and follow Gaz inside the house feeling treasured.

[birdkatze]

anyways i do morally agree with samuel roukin as ghost

[birdkatze]

i don't think there's any trope in this fandom that i like better than butcher ghost just inserting himself into someone's life and refusing to leave

cw: dubcon (tiptoeing the line of noncon), alcohol, hair pulling (head and pubic), slapping, minor threat of drowning, completely unnegotiated d/s dynamic, manipulation, ignoring request for a condom, allusions to cigarette burns (doesn't happen), self-doubt (e.g. thinking you might be overreacting to something when you really, really aren't) as a form of self-harm

it all begins when you start jonesing for a really good steak. things have been shit lately; work is eating up your free time, you haven't worked less than 60 hours a week in a good while, and every day you worry if you're going to get laid off. you've been a ball of stress for the past few weeks, and it's eating you alive. what you need is a good meal, a hot bath, and a stiff drink. the drink, thank god, you already have on hand- a lovely bourbon you've been saving for an emergency, and, boy, does it ever feel like a fucking emergency. it feels like you're going to crack, just absolutely lose your mind for good if there isn't some sort of intervention. your little self-care night is just a stop-gap measure, you know this. real change is going to need to happen, and soon.

you grab some groceries at your regular market, and decide to splurge on the meat. there's a cute little independent butcher's shop near the square where they hold farmers markets, tucked away between larger shops on either side. you walk by there all the time, it's the kind of place you wouldn't know was there except for the sign above the door reading "downright offal".

you push open the door and slip inside the small shop. the only other person there is a giant man behind the counter that's staring you down like you already owe him money. he's absolutely huge, broad shouldered and barrel chested, with blonde hair that's unevenly cropped short in a way that leaves little doubt that he does it himself. there's pink and white scars all over his pale face, bisecting his eyebrows and narrowly missing dark eyes before dipping down beneath the edges of the black mask he's wearing over his mouth and nose.

"hi. uh, sorry if this is a silly question, but what's the nicest steak you have?" you ask as you nervously clutch your shopping bag full of potatoes, carrots, and a small slice of cake.

"ribeye." he says curtly through a black kn95. the name 'simon' is engraved on the black plastic badge pinned to his white shirt.

"oh, great. uh, may i have one ribeye, please?" you figure it's best to err on the side of politeness when it comes to very large men with lots of knives at his disposal. the man behind the counter makes no move whatsoever to fetch you anything. his dark eyes very obviously scan over your body from head to toe, and it makes your cheeks warm up. your experience as a fat girl has taught you to be wary of those looks. sure, he might think your cute, or maybe he's just trying to decide how much he hates you for being fat. he's probably cycling through some awful jokes in his head right now, something comparing you to a barnyard animal, or how black isn't all that slimming. maybe if you're lucky he'll just refer you to a gym or something.

"you know 'ow to cook a ribeye?" he finally asks after what feels like an entire lifetime of awkwardly staring at each other in silence. you just blink at him in surprise. you hadn't really planned on doing much other than sticking it on a skillet, flipping it a few times, and pulling it off when it's hopefully cooked how you like it.

"i was gonna look it up on youtube. you know. before." you lie, badly, and 'simon' closes his eyes and sighs, giant shoulders heaving as he huffs in audible annoyance. when he opens his eyes again, he just continues to stare at you, emotionless and silent. it makes you nervous, intimidated, and you fidget with the ends of your sweater sleeves.

"uh. so. what do i owe you?" you say after a long, uncomfortable silence. just say your shitty fat joke so i can leave already.

"wait 'ere." he instructs, one gloved finger in the air as he walks to the back, pulling his apron off over his head. he comes back a moment later, wearing a black hoodie with a black backpack over his shoulders and carrying a large paper bag under his arm. he strides past you to the front door, flips the sign to 'closed', and fiddles with his key in the lock.

"uh," you say, just to say something. you're not entirely sure what's going on, he's clearly closing shop but you still don't have your steak and he hasn't taken your money. is he refusing you service so hard that he's closing for the day? jesus christ, you'd felt like you were being awkward, but this seems like an over the top response.

'simon' doesn't say anything, just holding the door open and staring at you expectantly, although you're not sure what he's expecting. probably for you to leave, right? yeah, you should go. you're not even going to ask about the steaks, just go home, order a pizza, and drink your bourbon in the bathtub like the sad-sack you really are. that's good enough, probably.

"...ok." you say quietly as you pass him in the doorway, wincing a little as your wide, soft hip brushes against the man leaning against the open door. you scurry back onto the busy sidewalk, humiliated, staring down at your feet and trying to fight off tears of frustration, nerves, stress, and embarrassment. maybe you'll eat your pizza while you're in the tub. why not? that might be the cure for this rotten month.

it takes you a few blocks to realize 'simon' is following you, his shadow almost eclipsing you, and when you step to the side to let him pass... he doesn't. just stops, waiting next to you to see where you take him. you look around, although you aren't sure what for. cameras for a prank show? someone to help you? godzilla, so you'll know for sure that this is just a weird and uncomfortable dream?

"i don't- what's happening, right now? i don't know what's happening." you blurt out, too exhausted and too confused to have much of a filter left. 'simon's eyes crinkle into a wry smile above his mask. he leans in, face so close to yours that you nearly take a step back.

"i'm givin' you the best cuts of meat in my shop, and you're lettin' me go 'ome with ya to make sure they're cooked properly." he says in a teasing tone that you don't trust. this is, on it's surface, a very altruistic thing to do... but something in this man's voice and mannerism is screaming that it isn't.

"that's... very nice of you-" you say cautiously.

"innit?" he practically taunts, and you can't help but think of cats that play with mice before killing them. he glances down your shirt for a beat before his eyes meet yours again, and that motherfucker winks. "come on, love. take me 'ome."

lies and excuses to get you out of whatever this is evaporate in your mouth as he pulls you back to the sidewalk by the arm and urges you back on your way with a quick pat to your lower back, his fingers just skirting the top of your ass. you look at the people you pass on the sidewalk and wonder if maybe you're the crazy one for being freaked out. he's just doing something extremely nice, even if he is going about it in a really, really alarming way. maybe you're just being too sensitive again, people always tell you that about yourself.

"uh, this is me." you say as you approach your building. 'simon' looks around at the neighborhood, seemingly scanning everything around where you live, and merely hums his apparent approval.

the panic starts to really set in when you both get into the lift, him staring at the floor you press like it's going to be on a test later. you're already not a small person, but 'simon' is fucking huge. it's already a little cramped, but your companion keeps leaning into your space more and more. by the time you get to your floor, you're practically sandwiched between 'simon' and the wall. when the doors finally open, you can't get out of there fast enough, the sound of a low and rumbling heh heh heh following you down the hall.

as soon as you let him into your flat, 'simon' makes himself at home immediately, dropping his heavy bag on the floor and taking off his boots. it's wild to see a man that big in your house, roaming around your kitchen and immediately pulling open every cabinet and drawer, apparently taking stock of what you've got. you put your bag of groceries on the counter and start to unload it's contents to the fridge.

"leave it, i'll get oll that." he says dismissively, like he's giving an order to a dog to drop a toy. "so. what'd you want the steak for? celebratin' somethin'?" 'simon' asks as he takes inventory of your spice rack. it's the most words he's ever said to you in one go, and it almost takes you aback.

"i- i just wanted something nice for myself. just a little treat for no reason. that's all." you say honestly as you sit at the kitchen table, staring down at the scuffed wood. you should really refinish this table someday. that might be a fun project when you're unemployed. you don't notice how 'simon' freezes at the small, frail tone of your voice.

"i'll give ya somethin' nice, pet. don't you worry." he assures you, but his tone makes you feel like you're missing a double-meaning or a joke somewhere. you're overthinking this, probably. he crouches down to look at your heinously unorganized cabinet of pots and pans, and tuts at you.

"should have somethin' cast iron." he chides, and all you can do is shrug. you're so fried, between the bone-deep exhaustion of your lack of work/life balance, the unease of having this big stranger in your kitchen, and the general low-grade irritation of being judged by sed stranger, you can't really do much more than shrug apologetically while you bite your tongue. just sit there, get through this, and afterwards you can have a nice hot bath and not think about this weirdness anymore.

he's being nice, why are you being so mean to him? a voice in your head pipes up. you wanted a break, and now the universe has handed you free steaks and a man to cook them for you. you're being too sensitive again, too picky. just let him treat you nicely. that's what you've been begging your bedroom ceiling for at night, isn't it? and now you're dismissing him as a weirdo? you're so fickle, so sensitive. you don't even deserve to have him feed you for free.

you sit in silence with your thoughts as he cooks, meat sizzling in the pan and filling your kitchen with a mouthwatering smell. he definitely knows what he's doing, getting the veg roasted while cooking the steaks. he's got that look in his eye your auntie used to get, an almost battlefield determination, and you know better than to get into his way or distract him while he's in the zone. he glances over at you as he hovers over the stove, turning the steaks consistently.

"'ow you take it? don't say well-done or there's gonna be a fight." he doesn't sound like he's kidding.

"medium rare." you say, unsure if that's the right answer. he hums in vague approval as he continues to tend to the cooking meat.

"good girl." he purrs, and you feel your cheeks warm up. it felt like genuine praise, but. you don't know. this guy is a little weird, and odds are decent that he's making fun of you, the way he keeps looking you up and down. you don't even care if you're being too delicate about this stranger's presence in your home, you just want this to be over.

"you seem like the kind of girl who knows 'er place." 'simon' tells you bluntly, apropos of nothing, and you nearly choke on the air you're breathing.

"excuse me?!" the shrill words pierce the air and he rolls his eyes at you.

"untwist your knickers. wot i mean is, you're not underfoot tryin' to 'elp out. know it's not where you belong, don'tcha?" he says simply, like you're the silliest girl in the world for being bent out of shape over his phrasing... and maybe you are. you don't know, your head hurts and trying to think too hard about it is exhausting. you can only hope he's as good at cooking as he is at being an offputting, trolling, dickhead.

"you're the professional, apparently." you acquiesce as politely as you can, irritation simmering. "best i can offer in terms of help is moral support."

"grab plates instead." he orders, and you can't help the way you get up from the table immediately, quick to do as you're told like always, pretending not to notice the way he adjusts himself through his black jeans at the sight of your instant obedience. oh jesus, this better be the best meal you've ever eaten.

he loads up the plates in your hands with steaming veggies and sizzling steaks, following close behind as you set them at the table, immediately hooking his foot behind yours the second you're both sat down to eat. you're about to pull your leg back, say something, react in some way, when he completely distracts you by taking his mask off and setting it down on the table.

shit, he's kind of handsome, even with the busted nose and the scars that cover his face. he's got a rugged, asymmetrical, unconventionally good looking thing going on, and it's really working for you. something about it just throws you even more off-balance.

you bite at your lip at you look at the meal in front of you. it smells incredible, cooked to perfection and much better than anything you could have managed on your own. swallowing down your dignity, you muster up the gumption to speak.

"thank you so much, for all of this. i, uh, i really appreciate it. it was very kind of you to do. i'm grateful." you tell the man sat across from you, because you weren't raised by wolves.

"couldn't risk you burnin' it." he says simply, a small, curious smile on his face as he cuts his steak. you just bite your tongue, holding back the annoyance at his condescending, patronizing way of speaking to you. if this is the true cost of a very nice free dinner, so be it. it'll be a weird, funny story later.

he's right, though. that horrible voice pipes up again. you would have ruined it, just like how you ruin everything. you can't be trusted with anything nice. look at your life, for example.

your phone chimes, and you give 'simon' a tight, apologetic smile as you pull it out to see what's up. it's an email from hr, letting you know your position has been terminated immediately, thank you for all your hard work, best of luck on your future endeavors, you can pick up your final check and any personal items at the front desk during business hours, yadda yadda. fuck.

see? the voice in your head taunts. you're such a fucking mess, and it's only getting worse by the minute.

"do you drink?" you ask, shoving your phone back in your pocket. you're gonna shut that nasty little voice up, one way or another.

"sometimes." 'simon' watches you intently while he eats, only breaking eye contact when he has to fork another bite.

"you want a bourbon? i've got a bottle stashed away, hang on." you say as you get up, not waiting for an answer.

"you tryin' to make me fall in love, pet?" 'simon' asks over his shoulder as you walk through the flat, tone teasing.

"no." you laugh, trying to play it off as a joke as you duck into the bedroom and pull the bottle out of your closet, too far away to hear simon's mumble reply of 'too bloody late'. you come back and pour for the both of you, and he smirks at you over the glass.

"s'pose this right 'ere-" he gestures between the two of you with his steak knife, "would qualify as a 'meat cute'?"

it takes two seconds for the terrible pun to click in your brain, and you can't help the groaning laughter that comes out of your mouth. it's so bad that it's almost kind of charming. maybe you were just overthinking and being weird to him. this isn't so bad, really. even if the jokes are corny and terrible, the food is still really good and your company is nice to look at. a little brash, sure, but, again, you're known to be too sensitive. it's probably a 'you problem'.

the rest of the meal goes much easier with a little bourbon in you. you bitch about getting fired, he complains about his job a little, you tell him a little more about your life, and about your plans to treat yourself a with a steak and a drink before you shatter apart. all the while, he keeps asking you questions, steering the conversation in all the ways he wants it to go. you don't recognize it at first, but by the time your plate and half the bottle of bourbon is empty, he knows a lot about you, and all you know about him is that his name matches the plastic tag on his shirt and that he hates when people touch the glass on the display case. that's pretty much it.

at the end of your meal you start to feel a little antsy. simon's making no moves to leave, and you're not sure how to politely give the boot to someone who just gave you a fantastic meal for free. especially not someone so physically intimidating.

"wot's eatin' you?" simon asks, reclining back in your kitchen chair, watching you like he's studying you.

"nothing." you say a little too quickly, and he scoffs.

"come off it. not just the sudden unemployment that's got you scowlin', and it sure a fuck wasn't the food. right?" he cocks a blonde eyebrow that immediately has you shaking your head.

"no, no, of course not, it was really good. thank you again." you demure, and he seems to enjoy the instant deference. "i think i just, uh, want a nice, relaxing hot bath and to go to bed."

simon smirks, and it's not exactly friendly looking... but maybe that's just his face. it's obvious to you that he knows he makes you a little nervous and uncomfortable, and it's becoming clear that he likes making you a little anxious, keeping you on your toes. oh, god, did you fuck up letting him follow you home? maybe you should've gone with your gut instinct and told him to leave, that you were fine, that you didn't need someone to cook for you.

quit freaking out and assuming the worst in him, the voice in your head slurs, apparently still there despite your efforts to drown her in bourbon. that's so rude, you're being so rude to him for no reason!

"so do it." simon stands up suddenly, grabbing your plates and stalking back to the sink. you sit at the table, blinking at him in disbelief, before he looks back over his shoulder at you, shooting you a grin that looks sharp and a little vicious. "go on. take your bath, pet. i'll clean up."

maybe it's the liquor in your stomach, the commanding tone in his voice, or the fact that his glances up and down your body look significantly more appreciative than mocking when he has his mask off, but you do as he tells you. you slip into the bathroom, lock the door, and sit on the toilet with your face in your hands as the bathtub fills, praying to a god you haven't spoken to in years that the giant in your kitchen just leaves without a word once the dishes are done. hopefully he'll be long gone before you have the chance to make a fool of yourself in front of this extremely charitable man that you've been nothing but suspicious of from the get-go.

(y'know, after a few stiff drinks, it's really becoming clear that the voice in your head is right- you were too harsh on simon earlier. it's not his fault he's big and physically intimidating. he's just being nice, even if he is a little rough around the edges. he's been so incredibly giving to you for reasons you can't quite discern. you're just being weird because he has a different sense of humor than you do. that's it, right? that part of your brain that's telling you to run, that this is weird and something is wrong, is clearly just paranoid and oversensitive. in that case, you're glad you drowned it out with kentucky's finest.)

once the tub is full, you slip into the hot, bubbly water with a sigh. fuck, it hurts so good, the ache of your tired feet dissolving as you soak. you might be boiled like a lobster when this is done, but if it melts any of the stress you've accumulated, it'll be worth it. you close your eyes and slide back into the tub, the overflow drain gurgling noisily as you make the water level rise. it's so loud that you don't even hear the lock on the bathroom door being fiddled with. it isn't until you open your eyes that you see simon looming over you,

"jesus christ!" you shout, flailing around and spilling water onto the floor.

"simon, actually." he jokes, that fucking shithead.

"you can't be in here!" you shriek, pulling your knees up as you try to cover your bare, soapy tits with your arms.

"fuck me for tryin' to make sure you didn't drown in 'ere after a few drinks, eh?" he says, arms crossed as he stares at your wet, glistening body, rivulets of water getting lost in your side rolls.

"most people would knock first!" you retort, hunched over an a vain attempt at modesty in front of the stranger looking down on you.

"oops." he deadpans, blatantly unrepentant. "not lookin' so relaxed in there, pet. i gotta do this for you, too?"

what the fuck is he talking about? do what? he huffs a laugh at your confused face and kneels beside the tub, rolling up the sleeves on his hoodie, exposing dense, dark tattooing on one arm. soldiers and skulls, bombs and barbed wire. depictions of violence upon violence upon violence finding it's home under his skin. if there's a story behind them, you don't think you want to hear it.

faster than you'd expect a man of his size to move, he grabs you by the throat. your fingers shoot up to where he has his grip on you, trying to pry him loose as he slowly pushes you back against the end of the tub. the pressure isn't enough to choke, but oh, god, you think he's going to fucking drown you.

"be good, stay still, and i'll 'elp you out." he says as he grabs a fistful of hair at the crown of your head with his free hand. "put your 'ands down, stretch your legs out, and relax."

"please don't hurt me." you whisper, panic rising in your throat as your heart beats hummingbird fast. you try to tilt your head a little to keep your head above surface, and the grip on your throat gets tighter as he groans a little.

"oh, you don't want to talk like that 'round me, pet. you'll get me all worked up." the hands on your throat and tangled in your hair press down, pushing you down further into the water. "i like 'earin' pretty girls sob and beg, that shit gets me fuckin' 'ard. you want me to make you cry so i can show you 'ow much i like it?"

you shake your head silently, biting back the 'no no please' that you're sure would only wind him up more as the water reaches your ears, your face just barely above the water. the press of his hand is steady, deliberate, and you're desperately afraid that he won't stop until you're underwater. you want to fight him, to kick out with your legs and try to sit upright, to hit him, bite him, something... but you can't. he's strong and huge and you're powerless, naked and half-drunk, and under simon's complete control.

he says something that the water and the pounding of your pulse in your ears doesn't quite let you hear as he lets go of your throat, hand trailing down into the water to squeeze at your tits as you tilt your head back to bring your head above the surface. simon leans over the edge of the tub and kisses you, holding your head still as he licks into your mouth. you can feel the scars that bisect his thin lips, taste the bourbon on his tongue, and feel the jagged edges of broken teeth against the soft skin of your mouth. a yelp explodes out of you when suddenly he digs his thumbnail into your nipple, and you hate the way it makes him smile at you.

"oh, you're a fun one, aren't you? bet you make all sorts of pretty noises when you're gettin' fucked, eh?" his hand slides further down, over the soft rolls of your belly, fingers wriggling to make space between the press of your thick thighs. you can't help but go rigid when you feel him playing with the hair between your legs, the cruel smile on his face getting sharper before he gets a decent grip down there and tugs, sending you howling and thrashing against his hold. your pussy stings in pain, making you jam your knees together, and that bastard has the nerve to laugh.

"what the fuck?!" you hiss, eyes watering in pain and fear. god, please don't let them turn into tears. you don't want to see what happens if you cry in front of him.

"couldn't 'elp myself, pet. you're just so fun to play with. so pretty when you're upset. bet you're fuckin' stunnin' when you cry your eyes out." roughly, he grabs your leg and throws it over the edge of the tub, giving him enough room to shove a finger roughly into your pussy without any preparation or preamble. you can't help but gasp and squirm, your hands scrabbling at the fist in your hair, trying to loosen his grip so you can get away, but no dice. his grip is firm and unyielding, and you bite the inside of your cheek to try to keep from crying. you want to beg and sob and barter for your freedom, but you know it's quicksand, that it'll only make things worse if you struggle like that. just get through this and don't wind him up.

"settle." he barks, shaking your head with his fist in your hair while roughly adding a second finger inside your cunt. he curls them forward on on the downstroke, making you gasp and buck your hips involuntarily with a large splash, bathwater soaking his hoodie. the stretch of his fingers is already intense, but the pressure against your inner wall has you breathless and seeing stars.

"what do you want? i don't know what you want from me!" you demand, unable to hold in your protests any longer. involuntary tears roll down your already wet face as you continue to try to pry his fingers out of your hair, and when he laughs at you, it sounds mean.

"what i want is for the soft, fat arsed girl that walks by my shop three days a week to soak my cock and maybe cry about it. that's what i bloody want." simon slides a third finger inside of you, finger fucking you with enough frenzy to churn the water as you shake and whine. "we just 'ave t'warm you up first."

the fingers pumping inside of you are overwhelming, filling you up and stroking you just right, making you feel even more weak and helpless. simon's fully in control right now, biting at his own scarred lip as he stares down at you, watching your face intently as you feel your eyebrows draw up on their own. fuck, despite the horror and the throbbing pain from where he pulled your hair, you're getting close. it feels so wrong, so completely filthy to have this strange man insert himself into your home and take control of you. he's the one in charge of this situation, all you can do is just try to hang on and take what he gives you.

the warmth between your legs takes off like a wildfire, a desperate heat that expands and consumes. you don't even notice when your breathing becomes panting, or when your toes start to curl.

"s'olright to like it, pet. feels nice, don't it?" simon coos mockingly above you, and all you can do is nod frantically, because, yeah, it does. "what a good girl, takin' my fingers so pretty. won't even make you beg to cum this time, just do it when you need to."

"thank you, thank you, thank you-" you pant as you slowly lose your mind, the heat from your core traveling up your spine and licking at your brain. your mind is nearly blank, wiped clean with pleasure, with only simon's thick, stroking fingers and dark eyes left to occupy your thoughts. he grins at you with crooked, gapped teeth as he stares down at you, watching you start to come undone in the water. you're so afraid of him, but you need him, you need him so bad. if he stops right now you'll wither away into nothing, you just know it.

"yeah, thassit right there. my soft, grateful pet. such a good girl f'me, knew ya would be. c'mere." he leans over again to kiss you, and you blame the alcohol and your cum-desperate mental haze for the way you suck at his lips, slide your tongue against his, and moan into his mouth when he starts grinding his palm against your clit, making you gasp and keen into his mouth, thrashing in his grip until finally the fire inside of you takes over. your orgasm is like an explosion, barreling out of you at full force. by the time you come back down, you feel boneless, brainless, and a little senseless. holy shit, that was intense. it's been a good while since you've cum like that. you haven't had a partner in a hot minute, and what with how stress has been eating you alive lately, you haven't had the time or inclination to take care of it yourself. it's almost good enough to make you forget about the pain and terror he's caused you. almost.

simon gently brushes some hair out of your face, letting you go so suddenly that your head flops back a little, which makes him laugh with another low heh heh heh.

"come on, pet. up." simon helps pull you to your wobbly feet, toweling you off while simultaneously groping you. he kneads at your tits, your ass, and your stomach, and all you can do is stare at your feet. the floor is covered in spilled bathwater, soaking simon's socks. a big hand grabs your jaw and makes you meet his gaze.

"my turn now. show me the bed."

"simon, please, i don-" you start before he slaps your cheek to cut you off. it's not painful, but there's just enough force behind it to let you know he's taking it easy on you when he doesn't have to. you're getting off lightly.

"you've been playin' so nice with me today. don't 'old out on me now that you've gotten yours, that's selfish." he growls in your face, and you can't help the pathetic whine that crawls out of your throat.

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry, please stop hurting me!" you whimper before he cuts you off again, shoving his thumb into your mouth as far as it'll go and pressing on your tongue.

"who's 'urtin' you? eh? just made ya cum all over my hand, didn't i?" he barks, and all you can do is drop your gaze to the floor. he coos mockingly. "aww. s'olright, i get it. you're all embarrassed because you let this bit o' rough between your legs so fast, that it?"

he pulls his thumb out of your mouth so you can answer him, but you just nod silently, cheeks burning with humiliation as you avoid eye contact.

"o' course it is. you're a real good girl, aren'tcha? bet you never bring men 'ome so quick." he coos patronizingly, chuckling when you nod again. "thought so. go on then, pet. be a good girl and give back a little. show me to your bed."

your feet move on their own accord, and you can't decide if it's out of obedience or a need to put space between you. not that he lets that happen, of course, his hand resting on the damp small of your back as you walk naked down the hall to your bedroom.

"hands and knees on the mattress." he instructs as he starts to strip, and, jesus. the scars on his hands and face go all the way down his body, criss-crossing over his hairy barrel chest and soft stomach. what the fuck kind of man are you dealing with? you climb onto the bed before he catches you staring, trying to position yourself how you think he wants. you're not really sure if you want this, but considering how good his fingers were, you admit you're curious. hopefully if you just do what he tells you it'll all be fine. right? you hear the telltale clink of a belt being undone and the purr of a zipper, and you can't help but look over.

oh. oh lord. that thing's not gonna fit. man's proportional, sure, but considering he's probably 6'5" and 300lbs, it means he's still got a goddamned battering ram in his pants. jesus christ, you can feel your pussy throb at the sight of it, that thrilling heat starting to pool between your legs again, making you feel insatiable. simon sees you staring, open mouthed in shock, and laughs a little as he strokes himself, foreskin sliding back and forth over the drooling head of his cock.

"it'll fit." he says like he's reading your mind, his tone not at all reassuring. he climbs onto the bed behind you, hands roaming your body. broad hands with thick fingers squeeze your ass, kneading at the backs of your thighs and your soft hips. he plays with you a minute, rubbing the head of his cock up and down your already wet folds before he starts to push in.

"condom, condom!" you yelp, brain suddenly coming back on line for a hot second, as you try to scramble away. simon just grabs your hair again to hold you still while he ignores you, continuing to shove himself gracelessly into your cunt. fuck, the stretch is intense, and he has to rock a little, advancing forward to immediately draw back over and over again, before he's able to settle all the way inside of you with a satisfied groan. he lets go of your hair and runs his hands over you, cupping your swinging tits and pinching your nipples just to make you squeak.

"good think i stuffed you with my fingers first, eh pet?" he taunts as he starts to rock his hips a little, pushing the air out of your lungs with every inward thrust. "might've torn you right apart otherwise."

"thank you, thank you, thank you," you chant down at the mattress, because you definitely believe he would have ripped you apart. your head lols downward as you try to brace yourself for what you assume is going to be an absolutely brutal fucking. simon chuckles from behind you, and it makes you go rigid with apprehension.

"oh, pet. love me a cryin', beggin' girl, but grateful's becomin' a new favorite. s'nice to be appreciated f'once." he says with a throaty grunt as he starts picking up the pace, fucking into you so hard that you feel the need to dig your knees and the heels of your hands into the bed so he doesn't push you forward across the mattress.

a big hand snakes around your thick waist, trailing down your body and between your legs, playing with your clit at simon pumps his fat cock into your pussy at a rough pace. you can't repress the full body shudder that comes when he starts rubbing tight, fast circles against that bundle of nerves, shooting electric pleasure through your body while he fucks you like some sort of mindless animal. there's something delicious about the way he's using you, like he can't get enough of your body. it feels equally brutish and reverent, like when a stray dog snaps up an offered up piece of meat and follows you home with big, expectant eyes.

"gonna cum on my cock, sweet'eart? go on, show me 'ow much you like getting your cunt stuffed. felt so bloody good on my fingers, go on, give it to me." simon grunts through grit teeth as he bounces himself off of your ass.

it doesn't take too long for that heat in your core to come back, fire trailing up your spine like you lit off a line of black powder, making you ball your hands into fists and drool on the bed as he drapes his body over you, fucking you like the desperate brute that he is. in only a few moments you come on his cock with a scream, eyes rolling back as you shake apart, fully whiting out as you collapse on the bed, ears ringing as you clench down on the fat cock that never loses pace. a bomb could go off in your bedroom and you probably wouldn't even notice. simon's responding groan melts into a dark chuckle, one that would alarm you if your brain hadn't dissolved into goo and begun subsequently leaking out your ears and onto the mattress you're currently drooling on.

"mm, yeah. could get used to this." he smacks your ass hard to get your attention. "wot you think? i take care of you, and you keep my balls empty? you want that, softie?"

you're too cum-dumb to reply, just whimpering softly as he continues to pound into your sensitive pussy without mercy. you're not some revered thing- you're just a toy to him at this point, you realize. right now you're just a warm, wet hole for him to cum in, a soft body to play with. he leans over you, reaching around to grope at your tits, squeezing and pawing at them a bit before he leans back fully digs his fingers into the plushness of your hips and picks up the pace to an inhuman speed. the man's a fucking jackhammer, and you wince every time he slams painfully into your cervix. you can feel every part of your body jiggle with each meaty slap slap slap of his hips against your wide ass.

"fuck you feel good oll over. love this nice soft cunt and big fat arse bouncin' offa me. no 'ard edges to you at all. every bit as good as i imagined." he open-palmed smacks your ass, the sting and jiggle of the impact immediately melting into a hot, throbbing ache, and you resent the moan it pulls out of you as he fucks your still-sensitive pussy.

there's no warning when he cums, just a loud grunt and a large hand on the back of your skull holding your head down while you feel his cock throb inside of you while he floods your pussy. he pants loudly as he holds you still for a few moments, before wordlessly pulling out and crawling off the bed, padding naked down the hallway, leaving you to shake and leak cum by yourself. maybe he's finally leaving, you think to yourself, but you doubt you're that lucky.

down the hallway you can hear him turn the sink on and off, and soon he's back with his backpack and a warm, damp washcloth, rolling you onto your back and wiping away the tears from your cheeks and the cum from between your legs. the tenderness in contrast with everything else you've seen from simon is confusing, giving you emotional whiplash. he catches you staring and gives you a crooked smile.

"somethin' on your mind?" he asks, and it almost feels like a test, like there's a wrong answer he's expecting.

"i don't- i don't understand anything that's happened tonight." you admit, leftover bourbon in your bloodstream keeping you honest. simon huffs out a laugh as he fetches a crushed looking pack of cigarettes and a lighter from a side pocket on his bag. the click of the lighter and sizzle of the first drag of a cigarette are loud in the quiet room as you wait for his response.

"been a bit bored lately and needed a project, somethin' to keep me busy. figured i'd fix myself up a fat little wife, and fuckin' 'ell do you need fixin' up, pet. can't cook a steak, can't keep a job, can't even relax without my 'elp." he teases with a shrug after a smoky exhale. goddamn this man, smoking inside your fucking apartment without so much as a 'do you mind'. you might voice your protests about it if you had any idea what to expect from a man like this. as it is, he's a big, brutish wildcard. someone you don't think you want to test.

"i'm doing fine," you mutter grumpily. "and i don't need your help relaxing."

"yeah? when's the last time you came so 'ard?" he asks, blonde eyebrow cocked as he takes another drag of his cigarette. once the shock of his bluntness wears off, all you can do is bite your lip and look away, and he huffs out a laugh. never. the answer is never, and you absolutely hate yourself for it.

"see? so don't pout. i'll take real good care of ya, just gotta train ya up first, 'aven't i?" he looks around for a moment. "think i'll move in 'ere. bigger than my place, better neighborhood, too."

"wait, hang on-" you protest. sitting up, flinching back for moment when he holds his cigarette straight up in the air between his thick fingers, the glowing cherry acting as a silent threat. you don't know for sure that simon is the kind of man to burn you for fun, you also don't know for sure that he isn't.

"don't know what you're fussin' about, pet. you've 'ad a good meal, a 'ot bath, and you came twice. soft, silly thing like you needs to be looked after, and that's exactly what i'm gonna do." there's a finality in his voice, something that says 'don't push it or else' that you can't ignore.

your hands are tied, really. who would you even go to about this? cops are fucking useless, and anyone else you might tell will probably just chide you for looking a tall, employed, big dicked gift horse in the mouth. god, are you being too sensitive again? all you can do is sigh and slip out of bed, opening a window and padding back to the kitchen, fetching him a mug that says 'rmnb is for everyone'.

"ash in that." you say, setting it next to him on the nightstand, and he chuckles around his cigarette, holding his arm out for you to obediently craw into. you're too tired, too tipsy, and too drained to argue, tucking yourself in against his side as he slowly finishes his smoke in silence before you both fall asleep.

in the morning he shoves his cock down your throat, makes you breakfast, and takes your keys when he leaves for work.

"was goin' to get a copy made, but since you've got nowhere to be, s'pose i don't need to, do i?" he says with a mean smirk and a biting kiss before he pulls his mask on, pockets your keys, and heads to the door before your stunned brain can form the sentences to protest this new and horrifying development.

"see you tonight, pet. be good." the door closes behind him with a horrible finality, the metallic slide of the lock clicking into place feels like the final nail in your coffin.

maybe you should've just gone to sainsburys for your steak.

[birdkatze]

ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ

[birdkatze]

Absolutely my favorite headcanon that Ghost doesn't have a phone. How are you supposed to contact him? I hear you ask. It's simple. You contact one of the other guys on the task force and they'll relay the message.

Of course Ghost won't tell you when he gives you his number that it's really Johnny or Price or Gaz that you're texting. That information isn't relevant. Besides, if the others catch a glimpse of your nudes, you don't need to know, and if you can't tell who's sending you all those dirty texts then that's just the rest of the task force helping Ghost out! After all it would be selfish of him to try and keep you to himself when he gave you their number, and its so lonely out in the field... they're owed this much at least, you won't be too mad if they all save a few photos, will you?

[birdkatze]

Don’t know why I love to see him in these weird angles. Plus this outfit is my fave on him in COD

[birdkatze]

sigh. yeah daddy right there y’all. (original art by @|amustikas / @itsamustikas on twitter)

[birdkatze]

Me: yeah we're tying the knot next week

Werewolf fiance who's never heard that phrase: we're going to what

[birdkatze]

Being kink positive makes it really hard to be a hater of media rip. I used to love watching “the WORST book I’ve read this year” booktube videos but now its like I hear them ask, “Who is this werewolf smut even for?” Omegaverse fans, next question. “Why would you write this?” Because they find it sexy, can we stop focusing on the ewie yucky kink part and focus on the fact that the author used the word knot five times in a single scene? It’s bad werewolf erotica, but it’s not bad because it’s werewolf erotica like come on

[birdkatze]

More weird angles

[birdkatze]

Ever wonder what Ghost drinking bubble tea would looks like?

Here you go! From yours truly!