compulsivebites

[compulsivebites]

Werewolf!Soap who’s tried so hard to keep his dog on a leash for you.

Not that he isn’t still nasty. He is. He’s still burying his nose in your pits every time you come back from hiking. You know what he is— but he’s never let you see him turn. He’s terrified of hurting you, or worse, without even knowing— he isn’t himself when he turns, he can never remember the things he does, so it’s best for everyone if he just stays away.

Until one night after a long deployment. Six months he’d been away— six months since he’d seen you, smelled you, touched you. The pair of used panties he’d taken with him had practically been worn to shreds with how often he fisted his cock with them and felt for them in his pocket. He’s so damned excited to see you, his leg thumping the entire ride home, practically sprinting away once Price dismisses him.

He’s too heavy with anticipation and need. He doesn’t keep track of the date. Of his cycle.

He wakes up at dawn with that sore, tingly feeling that follows his transformations. Once it settles in his brain, he shoots straight up. Your side of the bed is empty, save for some stray specks and one larger pool of blood staining the sheets.

Johnny immediately buries his face in his hands, bearing only to look at the evidence through the gaps in his fingers. He sobs. His worst fear in the entire world has been realized, the monster inside him that’d always hungered for you had finally got what it wanted. His stomach lurched and rolled with the possibilities— what might have ultimately become of you. Where the body was— if there was one. Maybe, if he was lucky, you crawled off and lived and would never want to see him again. But he knows his instincts would have never left escape an option— especially not when it came to you. The ring box that’s been sitting in his coat pocket is proof of that.

His entire body shakes with the torment and grief of it all, teeth clenching, his eyes shut as the tears just keep escaping. Love is over, because he killed it.

He’s so caught up in his despair that he doesn’t hear the footfalls on the floor. He doesn’t hear the clink of a glass set onto the nightstand. He doesn’t feel the dip of another weight on the bed.

Soap almost thinks it’s a trick from his deranged mind, a symptom of lupine madness, when he feels the warmth of a hand comfortingly rubbing up and down his back, another hand at his shoulder in a half-embrace.

“Baby, what’s the matter? Was it a nightmare?”

He had them, on occasion. Nature of the job, you knew that when you got involved. But he’d never seen this bad. It takes a minute or two before Johnny can bring himself to pull his trembling hands from his face, eyes puffy and wet with tears.

“B-Bonnie…? Yer… Yer okay?”

Soap was beginning to care less and less if this was a delusion. He would live in whatever reality kept you with him.

“I should be asking you that… Oh, Johnny—“ you sighed before wrapping him in a tight hug, even though his face and neck were wet and a little snotty from all of his crying.

“But, the blood—“

“Oh my god. Please, I’m so embarrassed… my period started while I was sleeping. I was so excited about you coming home that I totally lost track of the days…”

“So ye were gone because—“

“I left to clean myself up and get water… I wanted to change the sheets, but I didn’t want to wake you…” you start connecting the dots, even more embarrassed from all the worry you caused. “Did you think something happened to me?”

“Thought I fockin’ killed ye!” He says with a new wave of tears rushing to him, this time in relief. He pulls you in about as close as he can.

“Well, uhm… you basically did with like the dozen orgasms you gave me when you turned. I didn’t… I didn’t know your cock would do that thing, uhm, where it swelled up and… god, it was so hot,” you murmur, face feeling a bit warm just recalling it. A shiver runs through Johnny’s spine— your confession would have him thumping his tail if he still had it.

“Marry me.”

[compulsivebites]

sorry for all the smut, i’m ovulating 🥰 🥰

Simon Riley has a massive dick. And not in the typical pornstar, 15-inches, a dildo was modelled after it type of way. It wasn’t perfectly shaped, or symmetrical, or anything you’d expect.

It’s just… huge. Girthy and veiny and long, and always hard as a rock whenever he was with you.

The first time you laid eyes on it, your eyes almost fell out of your skull.

He’d never admit it, but he immediately felt self-conscious. He hadn’t been with an awful lot of women, and most of the time he and the woman in question were both pretty drunk.

Fortunately for him, you thought he was gorgeous no matter what (especially when it came to his cock) and even better, you were moaning his name within seconds of him spearing it into you.

“Feels good, huh?” He groaned lowly as he pounded into you, every thrust making a lewd slapping sound that had your eyes rolling back in delight.

“So good— god, so good…” you could only mewl in response, clawing at his arms so you wouldn’t fall apart.

You were so full. You didn’t know how people could function on a daily basis without always feeling this blissfully full. “Simon, god, oh, god…”

He only grunted and kept going, speeding up as he felt the familiar feeling of you tightening around him even more so than you already were. “That’s it, sweetheart, that’s it…” he broke off suddenly with a much louder groan, when you suddenly felt a heavenly warmth shoot up even further than where he managed to impale you, all the way up into places you didn’t think were possible to touch.

That was all it took for you to join him in his pleasure. You went over the edge at just the sensation, limbs trembling and chest heaving in the aftershocks.

“That good?” He asked, after a few minutes of silence where only your satisfied pants filled the air.

“So… good…” You gasped. In your head, you decided to never let this man go.

[compulsivebites]

if Kyle is a sky diving instructor… Johnny is the guy that pushes you off the platform when you go skydiving.

he loves the shake in your voice when you talk to him. Makes sure you use your words so he knows you heard him and can hear your voice for a little bit longer. Can see your shaky legs walk towards the edge of the platform. Likes the sheen of sweat on your face from the adrenaline. And his favorite part? Watching that expression change as you fall. He savors that quick second as he hears your screams echo through the air

(and bc johnny is johnny he insists on putting the harness on. Make sure it’s snug and fits just right)

[compulsivebites]

Breeding kink! Breeding kink! Breeding kink!

Simon Riley, who has hyperspermia. Can fill a condom with just his precum and doesnt really have sex anymore cause most women dont wanna run the risk of being pregnant.

Until he meets you.

You, who beg for him to cum inside and sleep with his cock still in 'so it sticks'. You who will bend over any surface for him if you can tell hes getting uncomfortable.

After the first time fucking you, he fell completely into the idea of breeding you too. Couldn't stop imagining you swollen with his copious amounts of seed, holding your intertwined love in that tummy.

And of course, within weeks, it would happen. People would call him crazy for getting a girl pregnant that he wasn't even dating for a month.

He liked to think he was efficient.

[compulsivebites]

so no one was going to tell me that watching the sandman would reopen my crush on Boyd Holbrook?

[compulsivebites]

Part seven of ‘Bird Watching’ aka hot construction worker Simon x single mom reader

The fight happens on a day like any other, a random Tuesday in early March

Stepping outside as you clutch your baby close to your chest, you’d almost expected to find the earth to have stopped spinning, to see birds dropping dead to the ground midflight, for dogs to bark incessantly at seemingly nothing at all, hell maybe even for the sun to have disappeared from the sky entirely

But no, everything was still the same, the world went on, the earth kept spinning, and life continued, even in spite of that heavy feeling in your chest telling you that nothing would ever be the same again, not when your world had just seemingly slipped out from under you

What else were you to think after learning what you’d just been told?

You’d sat in that office for far too long, the bright murals on the walls more obnoxious than ever, smiling paintings of woodland creatures mocking you with every second that ticked by, your mind unable to wrap itself around the words being thrown at you, seeing as they were so contrary to everything you knew, so opposite to the man you’d come love

“I’m sorry but- I think you’re wrong. There’s- there’s got to be more to this that I’m not understanding. It doesn’t- this doesn’t make any sense.” You’d mumbled, staring into space as though caught in a daze, certain you’d wake up from this dream sooner than later and laugh about it in the morning, though with every pitiful look the assistant director sent your way, you were worried this was one nightmare you wouldn’t be able to pinch yourself out of

“Hon, I really wish I was wrong too.” She said, rubbing what you’re sure she intended to be a soothing hand across your back, though everything felt too hot right now, too claustrophobic, and you were resisting the urge to flinch from her touch.

“You must be.” You practically whispered to yourself. It had been at least twenty minutes of this now, going back and forth in disbelief despite the paper trail before you

“What about that small chance that I’m not, though? What if this is what’s happening?” She added, pulling her hand back and angling herself to better face you, her expression still pinched into that look of pity and concern you wanted to smack off of her, despite knowing she was speaking with the best of intentions

“What? That he’s trying to trap me?! Has been from the beginning? There’s no way, nuh-uh.” You shook your head adamantly, refusing to believe that there was any possibility of something so ludicrous being true, of being your reality, your life

“Please just- just hear me out?” She all but pleaded, glancing towards the closed door as you heard the sound of laughter echoing down the hall, parents still filtering in and out, picking up their children like any other day, unaware of the drama unfolding in the office. “We always thought it was kind of strange at first that he wasn’t listed on her birth certificate when you submitted it with all your other paper work but- we really didn’t give it much more thought. Really didn’t think twice when he added himself to the list of contacts after you hadn’t put him down, because he told us you’d just forgotten to. I mean from the moment he walked in here he’s always called himself your husband, and you his wife, always claimed to be Rosie’s dad.”

At this point your eyes are squeezed shut, unable to differentiate between what you’re hearing and what you know to be true in your heart. Or at least, what your heart desperately wants to believe is true- your confidence slipping with every word she speaks

“And when he insisted a few months ago that 75% of Rosie’s daycare fees be charged directly to his account, we-”

“What?” You all but hiss at her, eyes snapping open in shock

“So you didn’t know about that either.” She mumbles, cheeks reddening in apparent embarrassment, whether for your or herself you’re unsure, though you’re certain you’re starting to see red the longer you sit here. “I mean, is it even all that surprising at this point? You just got done telling me he’s been trying to have you financially depend on him from the get go.”

“I said he’d offered to help me with the bills when we first started dating. Not that he tried to entrap me!” You bite back, unable to feel sorry yet that you’re being so short with her when this isn’t her fault, right now you need someone to be upset with, someone to take your feelings out on, and unfortunately she happens to be the unlucky messenger caught in the crossfire.

“I’m sure that’s how he made it sound, but hon, I’m just seeing red flag after red flag here. It starts with small ‘favours’ like that, then he’s telling you that you don’t have to work anymore, that you can rely on him. And asking you to move in so soon-”

“It- it isn’t ‘so soon’. We’re already practically living together, we- we’re in love. This- this isn’t- I don’t-” you cut off yourself off, unsure what you’d even say at this point. You can feel a headache coming on, your mind running a mile a minute, you wouldn’t be surprised to find steam coming off of you you’re feeling so heated. You’re beyond confused now, your heart knows that Simon’s never led you astray before, never give you a single reason to doubt him or think of him as dishonest. But you can’t ignore what you’re hearing either, as contrary as it might be to what you’ve known to be true, the facts are set out before you

“I know you love him.” She says softer this time, eyes trying to convey a comfort you don’t want right now. “But I can’t lie, I’m worried now. Like you said, this could all be some very strange misunderstanding. But from where I’m sitting babe, it seems like he’s been lying to you for months now, if not from the start. And the only reasons I can think of him doing that, aren’t very good ones.”

“I just don’t-” Your words are cut off when a knock rasps against the office door, both of you glancing over in time to see the door open.

“Hey Emma, Rosie’s mum hasn’t picked her up yet and I have to clean the room- oh! There you are!” One of Rosie’s educators says, stepping into the room with none other than your baby sat against her hip

You can feel the tension momentarily leave your body as Rosie spots you, her neutral expression turning into one of pure joy as she realizes her mama’s here, tiny arms reaching out towards you as she starts to flail in her teacher’s arms, sweet little coos erupting from her as she all but tries to leap towards you

“We were just chatting. Sorry to have kept you waiting with her. Hope she wasn’t too much trouble.” You say, standing from your chair and taking Rosie into your arms, feeling her lay her little head against you as she makes herself comfortable in your hold, a comfort you desperately need yourself right now

“Her? Trouble? Never. She had a great day today.” The teacher smiles politely, excusing herself to likely go finish her closing duties, certainly eager to get out of here now that you’ve got Rosie off her hands

“Maybe we could-”

“I’m gonna get this one home.” You cut Emma off before she can start, readjusting your hold on Rosie as you take a steadying breath. You want nothing more than to get out of here, to pretend that this never happened, though you aren’t sure you’re ready yet for what’s certainly about to happen at home. “Thanks for the chat. I’ll think about what you said and- I’ve got some talking to do with Simon now, I suppose.”

Perhaps by some small miracle, Simon ends up having to work late that night, shooting you a text to let you know that he’s sorry he won’t be home for supper and to please give Rosie a goodnight kiss from him if he isn’t back by her bedtime

You don’t reply to his message

You feel numb, as though this were something that was happening to someone else, a story you might overhear people whispering about while in line at the grocery store, or even an all too cheesy reality TV show storyline, certainly not something that’s happening in your home, to your family

You feel akin to a ghost, a spectre simply going through the motions as you float through the flat, following Rosie’s bedtime routine with nothing more than muscle memory to guide you from step A to B

She’s nodding off in your arms before you know it, blissfully unaware as to the turmoil happening in her mum’s mind, the fight that’s likely to ensue when her dad comes home, none the wiser as you lay her down in her crib for the night, a soft kiss planted on her forehead for Simon’s sake because as conflicted as you are, his love for her is undeniable

If anything, that’s the very thing that has you feeling so confused right now, is because you know Simon loves you, both you and Rosie, and so everything that’s just been revealed to you is so utterly contradicatory you can’t even begin to try and wrap your brain around it

He’s never been anything short of wonderful to you, willing to bend over backwards to make you smile from the very moment you met

The Simon you know wouldn’t lie to you, wouldn’t hide things from you, wouldn’t try to entrap you in any way like Emma or anyone else might try to insinuate

And yet…

Shutting her door quietly, you make your way down the hall, glancing at the piles of boxes that have only recently made a home for themselves along the walls of your flat

Moving boxes, the majority of them being from Simon’s own place across town that he hasn’t been to in months, as you prepare to move into the new house in the upcoming weeks

A house that you love, a house that you dreamt about, a house you can picture becoming a home, and yet still, a house he bought without asking you first, apparently a common trend

Plopping yourself down on the couch, rubbing furiously at your tired eyes as you try in vain to make sense of this conflicting situation

Because the Simon you know, isn’t capable of lying to you

The Simon you know has never once failed to fulfill a promise to you, never ceases to exceed your wildest dreams and expectations time and time again, always coming through for you in every way you’ve ever wanted and never knew you needed

The Simon you know is one who works harder than anyone you’ve ever met before, but didn’t hesitate for a split second to drop everything when Rosie had her first runny nose, fussing over her incessantly until you were both sure it was nothing more than a case of the sniffles

The Simon you know never lets you go through a late night feeding alone, getting up out of bed with you every single time her cries reach your ears, or sometimes insisting you stay asleep while he either goes to retrieve her for you or feeds her a premade bottle himself

The Simon you know doesn’t complain when the kitchen sink springs a leak after he’s had a long day at work, but rather angles Rosie’s high chair so she can see him working as he talks her through every step of the repair, teasing her about starting to pull her weight around he house as she giggles

The Simon you know pretends to grumble when you insist on applying sunscreen to his face on particularly sunny days, but secretly loves every second you spend so close him, fingers tracing his skin and taking care of him as delicately as you would with Rosie

The Simon you know shamelessly carries the diaper bag over his shoulder wherever you go, proudly wears Rosie on his chest in the baby sling any chance he gets, and most of all, never fails to hold your heart in his hand no matter how full they may already be

Tonight however? You can’t help the way your heart seemingly drops when you hear the telltale sound of keys at the front door

Simon is home

“Birdie?” His deep, Manchester accent calls out from around the corner. You’re hardly in control of your body as you rise to your feet and all but float towards him, torn between needing his comfort during such a confusing time, but equally fighting off the hurt and skepticism you’re beginning to feel

“Hi Si.” You meekly respond, coming into his view just as he’s toeing off his mud-caked boots, his eyes lighting up once he sees you

“Hi love.” He replies, stepping closer until you’re within his reach, naturally falling against his chest as he presses a kiss to the crown of your head, your eyes closing as you breathe in his scent. “Rosie asleep yet?”

“Put her down just a couple minutes ago.” You answer, arms snaking around his torso to embrace him tightly, unable to deny the hot tears beginning to prickle at the corner of your eyes.

“M’sorry I missed bedtime.”

“S’alright. Gave her your good night kiss for you. And I saved you supper. Just some chicken and salad but-”

“‘Jus’ chicken and salad’ is already more than I deserve for coming home late to my girls. Thank you, birdie.”

You know your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes when he pulls back to look at you, pulling yourself out of his hold to head towards the kitchen, his footsteps right behind yours

“How was your day? Not workin’ you too hard are they?” He asks, opening the fridge and pulling out the plate you’d saved for him

“No, work was fine.” You answer, awkwardly rubbing your arms as you lean against the wall, poking the edge of one of his moving boxes labeled simply as ‘stuff’ with your socked toes. “Actually, my day got kind of weird towards the end, if I’m being honest.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Simon asks you, peering at you over his shoulder as he gets ready to reheat his food

“Well I uh- I went to pick up Rosie from nursery and wound up talking to Emma. You know, the assistant director?”

If you didn’t know Simon so well, didn’t know his mind and his body language like the back of your hand by now, you might have missed the oh so subtle way he tensed up for no more than a split second, his large frame perfectly still as he held his breath for no longer than a blink of the eye, but you saw it

“‘Course. How is she?” He asks as casually as he can, though he pointedly isn’t meeting your gaze anymore

“She’s fine. Busy as usual. But anyways, I got chatting with her in the first place because I was just letting her know about the move soon. Wanted to update our address.” You add, waving a hand towards the many boxes dotted around the place

“Ah, right. Smart o’ you to get a head start on tha’.” Simon chides in, still not looking at you as he goes about grabbing himself silverware and a drink, keeping his head down the whole time

“I thought so too.” You say, pushing yourself off the wall to step closer to him, feeling your heart begin to pick up pace as dare to say what you’re too afraid to confirm. “Also figured I would go ahead and update Rosie’s contact information, while I was at it. Was well overdue adding you.”

At this point Simon has stopped moving entirely, his back turned to you as he faces the kitchen sink, not a word to be said as you continue

“But then she told me that you were already on there.”

Nearly a full five seconds pass by in complete and utter silence, before Simon slowly spins himself around to face you

“Oh.” Is all he can apparently manage to say at first, his face pulled into an expression you aren’t overly familiar with, eyes glancing everywhere but at your face. “Did you somehow add me and forget?”

“That’s what I thought at first too.” You elaborate, wanting to give him the benefit of the doubt, despite knowing that there isn’t a logical explanation for the second half of what you’re about to say. “But it was strange because she told me that she remembers having a conversation with you, after our first visit. Said that you were the one to add yourself.”

Again, Simon seems to forfeit to what he knows best in moments of high stress, a painful silence that echoes louder than any shouts ever could

“Things got really strange though, the more she told me. Like how you’ve been paying the daycare bills behind my back.”

“Love, I-”

“What was she talking about, Simon? Please tell me she was wrong.” You interrupt him, feeling your cheeks begins to burn with untamed emotions you haven’t dared to let out yet, the stinging at your lash line growing stronger as hot tears threaten to topple over

“No. She wasn’t wrong, but-”

“What?” You interrupt him, trying your best to keep your volume low for Rosie’s sake, though you can tell your emotions are already starting to get the better of you

“Look birdie, I- I’m not ready to talk about this yet. Let’s leave it alone for tonight, yeah?” Simon says as coolly as he can manage, though you notice the way his jaw ticks, how he runs his hand through his short hair as he only does when frustrated

“What the hell does that mean? You’re not ready to talk about what? Simon what is going on here?” You ask him, feeling yourself becoming light headed as the conversation takes the turn you were fearing it would, his words failing to reassure the uncertainty brewing within you

“Love it’s not- there isn’t anythin’ going on. I’m only jus’ trying to take care of you. So please, let’s just leave it.”

“No, Si. I can’t just ‘leave it’. Not when I’m finding out that you’ve been lying to me for who knows how long!” You insist, reaching behind you until you feel a stack of the moving boxes hit your calf, sitting down on the large box as you look up at Simon across the room. “What am I supposed to-”

“I said enough! Just drop it, please birdie. It’s nothin’.” He snaps at you, going to slam a hand down on the kitchen counter but catching himself at the last second, glancing down the hall towards Rosie’s closed door as he shakes his head to himself

“No! I’m not just going to drop this, Simon. How am I meant to know that you haven’t hidden anything else from me?”

“Oh, because you don’t hide anythin’?” He asks, stepping closer to you while trying to keep his voice down, lest you both wake the baby up

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Christs sake, I’m talkin’ ’bout Rosie’s father. What else would we be talkin’ ‘bout?” He admits, throwing his hands up in the air in defeat, coming to sit on the boxes across from you

“Are you kidding me?” You ask, narrowing your eyes at him. “We’ve gone over this before, it was a fucking one night stand Simon! Rosie doesn’t have a father, because I don’t know who her fucking father is! Is that what you want to hear? That I dont know the stranger who knocked me up after sleeping with him one goddamn time?”

“I don’t know what happened because we never talk bout it!” He replies, one foot incessantly tapping agains the tiled floor as he struggles to keep his cool. “There’s some bloke out there who could show up one day and take everythin’ I’ve worked for, so bloody fuckin’ right I’m concerned! How could you not know who he is? Might not know his name, but you could pick him out of a lineup surely? Describe him?”

“Are you seriously that insecure right now? You’re feeling threatened by a ghost? Because that’s all he was Simon, was a fucking ghost! It was a goddamn Halloween party. Every single person in that was wearing a mask, including me!” You argue back to him. “You want me to try and describe some tall guy wearing all black and a stupid skull mask? Is that it? How he didn’t even take it off while we were having sex? How he only wanted me to call him Ghost the entire goddamn night? What does it matter, Simon?“

By the end of your rant, you’re left huffing and puffing, borderline seeing red as you can’t believe of all things, this is what Simon would feel the need to bring up at a time like this

You’re expecting him to argue back, waiting on him to retaliate with whatever other ugly words you’re going to throw at each other tonight, the first proper fight you’ve ever had

And yet, he’s sat perfectly still, eyes locked on your own though it’s as if he isn’t quite seeing you

Rather, he looks like he’s seen a ghost

“Simon?”

He remembers that night almost too perfectly

Exactly half a year since his forced retirement, Simon was all too eager to get through the last of his ‘highly recommended’ therapy sessions

The older gentleman he met with once a month wasn’t all that bad, to his credit, had some decent stories to share and never pressed Simon to fill in the silence when he wasn’t in the mood to do so

But he was still a shrink at the end of the day, wasn’t he? Still wanted the former Lieutenant to talk about his feelings and his past and his thoughts and his nightmares and just about everything Simon would rather keep under heavily guarded lock and key

Even if he never insisted on making Simon spill his guts the way he might have imagined a shrink was obligated to do in their mandated fifty minute sessions, he’d still somehow managed to get the younger man to open up to the smallest degree, learned as much as he was willing to share within these bleak walls

Though he held no ill feelings towards him nor his profession, Simon couldn’t help but glance at the clock above the shrink’s head at least every other minute, looking forward to having his Saturday afternoons back to himself soon as this last appointment was done and over with

“Simon?” He remembers the old man saying, catching his wandering eye. “Did you hear me?”

“Sorry. Go on.” The muscular man had said, crossing his arms across his chest as he’d fought to give the man before him his full attention.

“I was only just saying,” he kindly went on, a soft smile appearing below his white moustache. “If if was something you might be open to exploring, I don’t think it would be the worst idea if you wanted to wear the mask out in public again. One last time.”

“Why would I do tha’?” Simon had questioned.

“Please correct me if I’m wrong, but you’ve spoken before about feeling conflicted between who you used to be six months ago, and who you’re having to become now post-retirement. A man with a name and a job and obligations. Whereas for over a decade, you were certain you’d never be anything more than this Ghost fellow you’ve mentioned. This man without a name, without a face. Am I right on this?”

“Suppose so.” He grumbled, shifting in his spot, the softness of the cushions around him a mundane luxury he was still growing used to feeling.

“You’ve also said that the honourable discharge came as a bit of a surprise, an unexpected end to this Ghost, as it were. Something, or someone, you never had the chance to truly mourn.” The shrink had gone on, gesticulating his pale, wrinkled hands with every word he spoke in Simon’s direction.

On his end, Simon could only manage to nod in response, taking in the man’s perspective

“The mask was something pivotal for you, something you held on to without fail for years, Simon. Years. It’s understandably difficult to be told you would no longer going to need this thing you had grown to, dare I say, depend on? Something that kept you separate from the rest of the world? A world you were being thrown back into without a choice?”

The older man had allowed for a beat of silence as Simon absorbed his words, only keeping his eyes on him as any indication now that he was still listening

“Now, I know you’d said that you haven’t put the mask back on since. We also evidently can’t replicate the sort of environment that Ghost used to live in. But if you wanted to put the mask back on for one night. If you wanted to put the mask back on for just a moment and perhaps allow yourself to make peace with this change in your life, to say goodbye to Ghost and give yourself the chance to fully become Simon, well, tonight might not be the worst night to try and do so.”

As if he needed his own shrink reminding him that it was Halloween that night

He remembers the odd few pumpkins lined up outside the apartments he’d passed on his walk home from the session

Remembers the posters for discounted costumes and reminders to check your children’s candy dotted along brick walls here and there

Hell he’d even had a group of giggling trick or treaters run past him at one point that evening

Staring at the handful of boxes he still couldn’t bring himself to unpack yet, Simon sat ins his flat entirely too long that night with a drink in hand, staring at the very one he knew held the thing he woulnd’t have been caught dead without less than a yer ago, now ruffed between some folded shirts

The more drinks he got in his system, the less ludicrous the doc’s idea had sounded to him

Perhaps he should don the mask one last time, if only to see what it felt like to have his second skin back on him again, to be Ghost for only just a moment more

He had been tearing the cardboard box open before he knew it, ripping through clothing until his hands met the familiar feeling of the skull beneath his fingertips

He hadn’t bothered looking in a mirror or anything dramatic of the sort as he slipped the material over his head, not feeling the need to glance at the face he once relished in knowing was the last one countless had ever seen in their lives

Unsure of how he felt but knowing he didn’t want to sit still, Simon had gone back out onto the streets, the sun having set long ago and trick or treaters certainly tucked into bed by now with lollipop coloured tongues and wrappers awry

He knew he wanted to keep drinking that night, seeing as it was the only way he could fall asleep most nights, and needn’t go very far before following the noise of the nearest pub, only just around the corner from his measly flat

Though the place had been crowded that night, packed with the young and old all dressed in differing levels to commitment to their costumes, Simon was pleased to see he could still part a crowd with ease as he’d slunk his way over to the busy bar

The music had been damn near defeaning, and the heat from all the dancing bodies was poignant, his senses kicking into overdrive as he fought the urge to turn hightail and head back to the solace of his empty four walls

The barkeep hadn’t even bat an eye at Ghost’s appearance as he’d made his way over and took his order, making haste to keep up with the demanding crowd

What had the doc said, again? That he ought to be taking this time to say goodbye to Ghost and welcome in Simon?

Pure rubbish, as far as he was concerned

He would always be Ghost in a way, wouldn’t he? Mask or not, his hands would still be stained with someone’s blood, his eyes will still be ones that witnessed death for a living, his heart would still beat to a broken drum, he would always be a ghost of a man on way or another

And so, no, he likely would not have said goodbye to Ghost that night, had he had much of a chance to continue thinking about it

But then again, fate has a way of making things fall into place right when they need to, doesn’t it?

For Simon had only just received his drink when a young woman had suddenly come crashing into his side, her hands unabashedly coming to grasp onto his bicep as she leaned her weight into him

“There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” She’d said, loud enough to be heard over the music, glancing not at Ghost, but rather at someone who’d come to stand just behind him

Prepared to swing around in his seat and size up the person behind him, Simon’s eyes had gotten caught halfway there, when they landed on the stranger holding onto him

Donned in a flowing white dress with long billowing sleeves, a single red rose tucked behind her ear to match the red painted across her enticing lips, Simon was surprised to find an almost perfect Christine from the Phantom of the Opera stood before him, though perhaps more so that the young woman was also wearing the Phantom’s half mask across her face

“You’re expecting me to believe that this is your boyfriend?” A gruff voice had spoken out from the din of the crowd, Simon’s gazing finally landing on a poor imitation of a superhero, the lad clearly wasted on one too many drinks as he tried stepping closer to the mystery woman

Simon’s gaze had fixed back upon the woman’s face, eyes locking for the first time that night, the music in the room suddenly no longer so intolerable, nor the heat so unbearable, not when she was looking at him like that

Simon was smart enough to catch onto what was going on here in time to step in, cutting into the man’s attempt to squeeze closer to the young lady still clinging to Simon’s arm, his tall stature alone enough to have the bloke taking a step back

“Husband. Actually.” Ghost had decided to clarify for him, slinking an arm around your shoulders and ignoring the spark he felt as he did so, blaming the drinks he’d had himself. “Best move on to the next one, mate. She’s taken.”

Luckily, the lad apparently still had enough common sense, or at least self preseration instincts, to know when it was time to back off, moving back through the crowd with his head hung low, not that either of you were still looking at him, instead turning to face one another again

“Jesus, he’s been hounding me all night, wouldn’t take no for an answer, but you say all of ten words to him and he’s over it? Ugh, men I swear.” You’d said, leaning your elbows against the bar top as you went to wave down the barkeep, before catching Simon’s eye again and sending him a playful smile

“Funny way to say thank you.” He’d said, ignoring the way the genuine widening of your smile at his words had sent a jolt through his heart

“Hey, I was getting there.” You had laughed, the sound barely making its way to his ears through the noise of the crowd, but even just the whisper of it has him unconsciously stepping closer to you. “Would a drink be enough to repay for you saving me?”

Simon had glanced back over his shoulder, the tosser nowhere to be seen amongst the flashing lights and ever moving mass of bodies strolling and dancing about

You’d been nearly blinding to him in the darkness of the bar that night, your pale dress and startlingly white mask illuminated by the moving lights, the fog of his drinks already catching up to him, you were an image to behold nonetheless

It’d been a long, long time since Simon had had a girl in his bed, let alone a bird as pretty as you, but Ghost however? If he was lucky tonight, he might be able to get you to come back home with him, and then never see you again when he took the mask off in the morning

“Only if you’ll have one with me.” He’d replied, watching as you lifted a single brow in amusement. “Got to keep up the appearance that we’re here together now, haven’t we?”

“Hmm, suppose so.” You’d agreed easily, hopping up onto the barstool next to him as it freed up, the blush on your cheeks apparent when he’d reached his muscular arm behind you to drag the stool closer. “So, what’s my knight in shining armour’s name, then?”

“Call me Ghost.”

Muahahaha

I’ve been dropping hints in the chapters for a while now, and quite a few of you have guessed it, but yes, it seems Simon might know the baby daddy better than he thinks he does

As an almost strictly fluff writer, the angst in this one was so tough to write! Luckily next chapter will be filled with lots of fluff and smut to make up for the fight

- M 🫶🏻

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[compulsivebites]

am I on the right track of a werewolf!johnny when I say he probably pants so hard when he fucks you. Like at first you thought surely he’s exaggerating but then you see him working out and he’s the loudest one at the gym. Like everyone gives him an annoyed glance but just puts their music volume louder. Anyway he pants so hard when he fucks you. The sound of his heavy breaths and loud grunts fills the room (sometimes his whimpers because he just can't believe you're letting him fuck you). His warm breath so strong on your neck as he thrusts into you.

Also, maybe: Bites your neck where a mating spot should be, instead its just tender skin because he can't help but nip at it whenever he gets a chance.

[compulsivebites]

Uhmmm feral wolf!reader and human!gaz who uses all ur tricks against you???

He picked up on ur hybrid behaviours pretty fast, noting the different sounds you would make and how you would use ur body language.

You dont even realize hes got you figured out until ur mid-spar and gaz pushes you to the mat with a perfect fucking growl. Instinctively you whimper and bare your neck, only to do a mental reboot bc gaz is definitely a human last u checked. When u look up the sergeant is grinning down at u, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. A bit elated that his plan actually worked.

It doesnt stop there, either. When u try to steal some food off his plate like u always do, gaz leans into ur space and nips at ur neck. Like hes correcting a pup, not a grown wolf. The treatment still has ur face heating, ears flicking in submission.

Then there's the time you two got back from an op, an gaz casually scratched behind ur ears with a "Did good out there, soldier." As if the simple contact wasnt enough to have ur knees buckling.

And he just. Keeps doing it. An imitated growl or bark here, a far too casual touch there. Just little things that add up. Small praises and corrections.

Its only months later, when ur waiting expectantly for gaz to give u ur morning head pats that your realize. Hes fucking tamed you, and you dont even mind!

[compulsivebites]

1860s Soap eating ass

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the shame. the absolute humiliation of it. the bare fisted heat that washes over you and trembles on your lips when his tongue circles your hole; wetness sliding around and around as his firm hands spread you open, squeezing just a bit too tight to be comforting. you make vague noises of protest, your brain working even when your body betrays you.

it feels good. it's dirty. his mouth is hot and wet. your cunt is empty and teased with the spit that drips down the short path between your two holes. johnny groans against your skin, presses sucking kisses to your asshole before attempting to wiggle his tongue inside.

when he can't he pulls back --you imagine the drool that must hang off his tongue, stringing back to your body like sin-- it's to press his finger against the tight pucker. easing with firm pressure that sings through your veins, stoking fires in the pit of your stomach that seem to burn with as much desire as they do embarrassment.

"look'it ya," johnny hums, "pretty puffy thing, so bonnie ah might cry."

you bite your lip hard, his tongue tracing around the edge of you as his finger pushes and pushes. sinking in and in. it hurts, the stretch burns. then he pulls it back and your eyes roll, your breath shuddering out of you. it slips in so easily when he pushes again, kisses peppered over your skin, tongue hot and wet as it continues lapping around the thick digit.

"ah ken." he coos when you sob, "cannae risk the wee one though, can we? have tae fuck ya like this-" he kisses your hole again, and you get the sense this isn't so much of a challenge for him as it is a cosmic reward, "-have tae."

[compulsivebites]

Pair: Soap x Neighbor!Reader

You were leaning up on your toes to kiss your one night stand goodbye by the door when it happened again—timing, or fate, or just shitty neighbor luck.

The door across the hall creaked open, and there he was. Soap. Shirt damp with sweat, his hair matted to his forehead, jacket slung over one broad shoulder as if it weighed nothing. He paused when he saw you. Blinked once. Then that damn smirk.

"Morning," he said, with just the slightest rasp. “Busy night?”

You stiffened slightly, glancing down the hall to make sure your guest had in fact gone. He had. Thank God.

“What makes you say that?” you replied smoothly, leaning on the doorframe, the door halfway closed behind you.

Soap chuckled. “Walls are thin, sweetheart.”

That was how it started. Right there, in the hallway. What was meant to be mortifying somehow twisted into playful. You laughed off his comment, made a snarky remark back. One thing led to another, and suddenly the two of you were leaning against opposite walls, openly discussing favorite positions, kinks, dirty talk, the works. Soap didn’t hold back—didn’t seem like the type to ever hold back. You weren’t exactly innocent, either.

Still, nothing came of it. Just words, playful jabs, that annoying magnetic energy that lingered even after you parted ways.

A couple nights passed. Then it was your turn.

You’d just curled into bed with a book when it started—soft at first, then louder, more rhythmic. His voice, unmistakable, deep and raw and commanding. A woman’s moans followed, high and breathless. And as much as you wanted to be annoyed, you weren’t. If anything… you listened.

Maybe too closely.

You weren’t proud of it, but you sure as hell weren’t gonna lie about how your thighs pressed together by the end of it.

Another few days passed.

You were stepping out again, all dressed up for your second date with your prior one-night stand. Lip gloss shining, dress hugging your hips in all the right places. The elevator dinged, and you turned—

Only to nearly bump right into Soap, back from work, smelling like leather and gunpowder.

He gave you a once-over, slow and deliberate. “Well, damn. Where you headed looking like that?”

You smiled politely. “Second date.”

His brow quirked. “With the loud one?”

You rolled your eyes, suppressing a laugh. “Yes, with the ‘loud one.’”

Soap nodded slowly. Then, just before stepping past you, he paused.

“I don’t think he can fuck you as good as I can.”

The words hit you like a slap—and a slow lick of heat all at once.

You stared. “Excuse me?”

He tilted his head, not a hint of apology in his tone. “Just saying. I heard you with him. Heard you with me too—or rather, talking about it. And I don’t think he’s got it in him like I do.”

You wanted to deny it, throw some sarcastic quip back at him, but you couldn’t. Not when you’d heard him the other night. Not when you were still thinking about it.

So instead, you murmured, “What am I supposed to do about my date, then?”

Soap leaned in, close enough for you to smell his cologne and sweat and sin.

“Rain check,” he said. “Because tonight? My plan is to fuck you after a long goddamn day.”

You hesitated for half a second. Then you stepped back inside your apartment, grabbing his hand. You didn’t bother turning the lights on. You just backed away, slowly, into the dark of your apartment, eyes fixed on the doorway—on him.

Soap followed. Calm. Confident. Closing the door behind him without ever looking away from you.

“You’re really doing this?” you breathed, half in disbelief, half already aching.

He dropped his bag by the door and stepped forward. “I told you what my plan was.”

You opened your mouth, but your back hit the wall—and then his hands were on your hips, gripping, grounding, dragging you against him like he already owned your next breath.

His lips ghosted your jaw first. “You’ve been thinking about it, haven’t you?”

You swallowed. “About what?”

“My voice. My girl. The way I had her moaning through the walls.”

Your breath hitched.

“Yeah,” he murmured, lips brushing your throat. “I know you did.”

You hated how right he was.

His mouth claimed yours then—no teasing, no easing into it. Just heat and hunger, tongue sliding past your lips like he couldn’t be bothered to ask permission. You melted under him, one hand gripping his shoulder, the other tugging at his shirt like you wanted skin and muscle and more.

“Dress off,” he ordered softly.

You stepped back and peeled it off, slow, letting the straps fall one at a time. Letting his eyes trace every inch. He let out a low whistle when it hit the floor.

“Fuck me,” he said under his breath, licking his lips. “Didn’t know I was comin’ home to a goddamn fantasy.”

You rolled your eyes but blushed anyway. “Then hurry up and do something about it.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He had you pressed to the wall again, this time his hands roaming, rough palms sliding over your waist, your ass, down your thighs.

“Wanna hear how good you sound up close,” he rasped, fingers slipping past the waistband of your panties. “Bet you’re already soaked.”

You whimpered as he touched you—right.

“Christ,” he growled, two fingers sliding easily against you. “You are. This for your date?”

You shook your head. “For you.”

“Damn right.”

You barely had time to process before he was picking you up—effortless, strong, like he knew you wanted it that way—and carrying you toward the couch. He didn’t even bother stripping himself all the way. Just pushed his pants low enough, teeth clenched with restraint as he lined himself up.

“You sure you want this?” he asked, voice hoarse against your neck.

“Been wanting it since the hallway,” you breathed.

That was all it took.

He pushed in slow, stretching you with a grunt, your breath catching at the delicious pressure. He filled you deep, staying there for a moment, just enough to feel the shudder ripple through your body.

And then he moved.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was raw—like all that tension, all that teasing between you had finally snapped, and neither of you wanted to waste a second pretending you weren’t starving.

“Fuck—Johnny—” you gasped, nails digging into his back.

“That’s it,” he growled. “Say my name again.”

He hit something devastating inside you, and you obeyed.

“Johnny—”

“Louder.”

“Johnny—!”

He didn’t stop until your moans echoed the way his had a few nights ago. Until the couch creaked beneath the rhythm of his hips. Until he had you trembling, unraveling, gripping him like you never wanted him to leave.

And when you finally came—shaking, gasping, helpless—he held you there through it, voice low and filthy in your ear.

“That’s what I fuckin’ thought.”

You were still catching your breath, clinging to his shoulders as aftershocks rolled through you. His forehead rested against yours, both of you slick with sweat, hearts pounding like you’d sprinted through a warzone.

For a while, neither of you said anything. Just breathing.

Then Soap pressed a kiss to your shoulder. Soft. Startlingly gentle after how hard he’d just taken you.

“You alright?” he asked quietly, voice husky but careful.

You nodded against him. “More than alright.”

He chuckled, lips curving against your skin. “Didn’t break you, did I?”

“Not even close,” you teased, though your legs were still shaking where they wrapped around him.

He shifted back, keeping one arm tight around your waist while his other hand smoothed your hair back, tucking a damp strand behind your ear. His gaze flicked over you—face, neck, lips—with something almost… warm.

“You’re still tremblin’,” he murmured. “C’mere.”

You didn’t resist as he lifted you again, carrying you with the same ease over to the couch’s throw blanket, still half-crumpled from earlier. He grabbed it, wrapped it around your shoulders, and sat down with you straddling his lap. He was still half-dressed, but you were bare and enveloped in his warmth now—his hand rubbing soft, idle circles on your back, the other slipping around your waist.

You exhaled into his neck, your body still humming from what he’d done to you. Still drunk on the taste of it.

“Didn’t think you were the cuddly type,” you murmured.

He tilted his head to grin at you, all teeth and heat, but his hand never stopped its gentle rhythm against your spine.

“I’m not,” he said, mock-serious. “This is strictly tactical. Keepin’ your legs from giving out when you try to walk to the shower.”

You laughed softly, hiding your face in his neck.

“You’re so full of shit.”

“Aye, but I’m right.”

He kissed your temple, almost absentmindedly, like he didn’t even register the intimacy of it. You felt your chest ache at the tenderness threading through his earlier cockiness.

After a moment, he leaned back to look at you again—messy, flushed, and still in his lap.

“So,” he said. “Still goin’ on that second date?”

You snorted. “Pretty sure I already did.”

His grin widened. “Hope I made a good impression.”

“You made something,” you muttered, shifting slightly—and making him groan.

“You keep doin’ that and I’ll have to make you another one.”

“Johnny—”

He pulled you closer, voice softening again as he brushed his lips along your cheek.

“Relax, love. You’re not goin’ anywhere tonight. Let me take care of you a bit.”

And just like that, the cocky soldier was gone again—replaced by the man with warm hands, calm eyes, and a firm hold that felt like the safest place you’d ever landed.

And maybe you didn’t mind the sound of his voice through the walls anymore.

[compulsivebites]

Price and reader with a breeding kink, except when you've been a brat he intentionally pulls out and cums on u, never where u want it most, right?

But tonight you've been so good, done everything he asked without complaints. Yet right as u see his nose scrunch in the way that tells u hes close, price is pulling out to jerk off. He leans over you, hand pressed above ur head on the matress, gives u a perfect view of how his abdominal muscles clench when he finishes and shoots thick ropes of cum over ur cunt.

Ur devastated, mentally going through everything you did, checking if you messed up. When u look back up at price hes got that smile on his face, leaning down with a chuckle "just teasing, sweetheart." As he presses back into u, slowly fucking his previous load into ur cunt with each thrust.

He tosses one of ur knees over his shoulder, leans back to get a really nice angle that has u seeing stars in apology. Still, you make sure to wear him out as punishment for his joke.

[compulsivebites]

[compulsivebites]

oh and by the way, i'm thinking about gaz with insecure!reader - trying to convince her to let him meet her friends/introduce him to the girls.

it's only fair since she met the guys, right? he wants to see what her friends are like (and what she's like around her friends)

and she just keeps brushing him off, dismissing the idea every time he brings it up only to change the subject right after.

she does it so much that our precious kyle starts to get insecure, wondering if he's not really all that important to her, or if she's embarrassed about being with him (as if)

and then he hounds her a little too much - pressing just too hard on the subject - only to make her snap and burst into tears.

she doesn't have any friends for him to meet.

and its not like she wanted to reveal that she was a loner loser who only ever hung out with her boyfriend, so she just kept pushing it off in the hopes that she'd make some friends, somehow.

as always, she's breaking his heart without even trying. his sweet girl without any friends? he can hardly believe it.

so he holds her and soothes her for hours, making sure to let her know that no, he's not judging her for not having any friends. yes, he still likes her. no, she's not a loser...just something he gets to keep all to himself, hm?

and if she does want to make friends, he's the first one to help her out. taking her out to the clubs/bars, initiating conversations for her to have with the girl at the coffee shop, setting her up on those platonic 'dating' apps (he's absolutely sitting in the corner to make sure everything is safe and sound for his precious girl) and always inviting her out to the pub with the boys.

he's here to pull her out of her shell if she needs a little help. and if she'd rather stay in there, hiding herself from the world? that's fine with him. in fact, he takes pride in being the only one she wants to open up around.

[compulsivebites]

love a man who gets the biggest boner as you’re sitting on his lap, rambling about your day or your interests or anything at all … and his smile is cocky as you stop mid sentence, eyes a little wide because how is he hard right now? and he thrusts his hips up a little to make it known — this is what you do to me

[compulsivebites]

wish i had an older man teaching me how to go down on his cock, kneeling in front of him as he guides it past my lips slowly, praising me as we go on

[compulsivebites]

Ughh price who punishes u by jerking off with only his tip inside u, so when he finishes ur still stuffed with his cum but u don't get to get off, left with the warm feeling of his spend inside u and still achingly needy.🫠🙏

[compulsivebites]

simon hitting on the cashier at his fav coffee shop !!!

 Simon was *your* regular.

You were 99% sure Simon only visited the little café if you were on shift, that he came there just for you. Though... that seems a bit delusional.

Simon—spelled S-I-M-O-N— you always made sure to spell it correctly on his cup because in your head it mattered to him. He exclusively let you take his order, ring him up, and hand him cash.

It was the same routine; his usual grunts, his VERY intense eye contact, a $5 tip, and a gruff "thanks." Every single time you saw him.

...

"There's something wrong with the cup today."

His eyes locked on yours as he handed it over, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

You raise a brow as you investigate the cup and there on the back, in chicken scratch.. is his phone number. 

“Oh..” You had to bite back a grin, fearing he'd think you were laughing at him. “Oh, I see.. Let me make you a new one and I will just..keep this.”

You could see his chest puffing up in satisfaction as he grunted a quick “yeah.”

the others:

gaz

johnny

price