lulurubberduckie

[lulurubberduckie]

Ghost doesn't cutesy talk cats, he talks to them like other adult men and it's hilarious.

They're at a safehouse, and Ghost is listening to the radio, Price hears him talking to someone, and he's confused because both of his sergeants are conked out asleep.

So, he walks around the corner and finds Ghost sitting on a step with the radio playing and a stray kitten biting his laces while he talks to her. "I don't believe shoelaces constitute part of a balanced diet."

John just sits down on the step next to him and ignores how his knees click. "What's her name?"

"She's yet to disclose name or rank, but given that she's clearly smarter than those two through there, I'd say she's a lieutenant." He responds so dryly that John can't help but snort.

"Ah, I see. Making her way through the ranks at her young age, impressive." He leans forward to pet the kitten, flattening down the tuft of fur sticking up on her head.

"She's a hard worker, look at those paws. Grubby, she's been busy."

The kitten offers them a mewl in response, and he nods accordingly.

"She's stern, reminds me of Laswell."

That makes Ghost laugh.

[lulurubberduckie]

[lulurubberduckie]

Ghost as the villain in your version of the Little Mermaid.

Ghost as an octopus merman, the prince of a ruined kingdom— once, long ago, having asked for a chance to court you for your hand in marriage, and refused by your father. Between human intervention, and the lack of allied kingdoms, his lands fell to ruin. He lives isolated in a cave outside of your kingdom, practicing dark arts— a skill that comes naturally to someone with so much bitterness in their soul from tragedies suffered.

He cultivates a reputation. Someone who can grant wishes, for a price. A last hope for the desperate. You would risk something as unimportant as your life if it meant a chance at your dream, wouldn’t you?

That’s how he meets you. You’d never seen him, he’d been refused by your father before you’d ever even met him, but he remembers you. Once the object of his earnest desires, now an obsession— unknowingly a symbol of the start of his ruination.

And now, in a further mockery, you’re in love. With a human man. (If I was feeling extra evil I’d make it soap heehee).

But this is a golden opportunity for him. If you make a deal with him, he could start on a warpath of reclamation. To possess all of the things denied to him— starting with a sweet little princess for a wife.

“True love,” he says, trying to cull the venom that’s bubbling in his throat at the mere idea of you finding happiness with another. “You’d risk somethin’ for that, wouldn’t you, darlin’?”

“You win his heart, and you stay on land with him, yeah? If not… you’re mine. D’we have a deal, sweetness?” He doesn’t mention to you that all’s fair in love and war, and he’s had more than enough experience in the latter to earn victory in the former.

[lulurubberduckie]

on the same frequency (but a different channel) as ai!john nabbing himself a body, i'm thinking of trapped!demon!soap tricking a villager with a bleeding heart into helping him acquire a body. pretending that he's some kind of drowned spirit unable to move on after death, held back by unseen forces.

there is a way, an old way, but i cannae do it without ye.

he lies through his teeth. sings her praises when she fetches another ritual component offering. sweet talks when she ferries what's needed into the cove where he died is imprisoned. he teaches her the words that will help guide him into the next life the body of a blue-eyed wanderer.

in truth, he's had his eye on her for ages. he couldn't believe it when she first appeared at the lake's edge. a beauty full of life. of potential. a vision to a wretch like him, formless and sapped of his power. forced to watch the world turn. watch her live without him.

his obsession grows unchecked into a ravenous hunger. quickening each time he sees her. to say he covets her is an understatement.

how lovely she sings, dutifully scrubbing her clothes alongside the other women. how kindly she thanks each fish that lands in the nets and traps. how soft her skin feels when she bathes after dark, secreting away to the very stretch of shore she stands on now.

she stands at the ready, body quaking with both fear and resolve. determined to help free the poor soul trapped in the deep, mottled gray water. ignorant of the binding threads she snips with every word she utters. completely unaware she's unraveling a ward meant to hold for eternity. a single, trembling torch lights the beach, the lake beyond its reach like a sheet soaked in spilled ink. so brave, his human. so naive.

he'll teach her to know better once he takes his fill.

beneath the churning water, john presses against the glass of the water, his disembodied rage coiling tighter with each passing second, desperate to breach and taste the air, his hunger a raw and unrelenting force. his longing for a body a zealous ache. it's been so long. eons. only a few moments more. then, he'll have hands.

arms. legs. eyes. a mouth and a tongue. more.

the burly, broad-shouldered corpse that landed in his waters is a pale imitation of his old form, but he'll make do. he knew he kept it for a reason. he'll start anew with her as his first disciple.

he's certain she won't complain, once he calms her down.

[lulurubberduckie]

widower!single dad!Price x widow!Reader who meet at one of those grief support group meetings. (This is my way of coping with The Prowl, okay).

Really, he doesn't want to go to these meetings. They're too open. Too raw. Prying eyes lurk in all corners of the room brimming with emotion and he just... can't. There's an emotional disconnect, one that leaves him dead in the water. He would never have thought of coming to a place like this (shoved into the back of some local community center) if it wasn't for his boss. His supervisor at his job (some well paying corporate position he landed after "retiring" from the military) mentioned something about a lacking attention span and gave him a pamphlet for this place. It sat in the trash can for a full hour before his young daughter crossed his mind; if he won't do it for himself, he can at least do it for her.

Then, there's you. Some sniffling thing who comes in with a brave face and a tight smile just to crumble into dust at his feet. It was an unexpected death that snagged your husband from your arms; here one moment then gone the next, you were nearly inconsolable. Having few friends to count on, and virtually no family, you came into the city for a fresh start. Some place that didn't smell like him, and where no one knows your name or face.

John thinks nothing of it. You're just another lost soul looking for companionship in a bleak, empty life. He's come to terms with his loss (or so he says) and you're just someone else here for the journey. Though, he doesn't realize that a fresh start also includes a new job, and he's rather surprised to find you sitting pretty in his office the next morning as the new secretary.

[lulurubberduckie]

I think Soap as a gamer inevitably falls in love with every single girl tutorial/sidekick character. He played Zelda games as a kid and that shit awakened him. Navi, Tatl, Midna…. And you know he had a crush on Cortana in halo. And Isabelle in animal crossing. Ashley in resident evil. He’s eating it up. Starts crying if they have to say goodbye at the end of the game. When there’s a chapter of the game where they get captured or contact is cut, man is the most stressed he’s ever been in his life.

And then his team gets assigned a recon/navigation assistant. He can hear the voice of a pretty girl that’s smarter than him in his earpiece all the time now. And he’s gonna be insufferable about it. Pretends to be a little lost just to hear you explain the layout of the area to him. He loves it soooo much.

[lulurubberduckie]

simon riley who you meet at a bookstore, almost running into him in the narrowed aisles as you both round a corner at the same time. you start to apologize before realizing you literally have to crane your neck up to look at the man you all but crashed into - only to be greeted with a black skull mask stretching across his face. of course, you had to pick the one man in the building who looks as though he could snap you in half with his pinky finger.

but he's terribly nice about it. points to the book in your arms - a thriller, dean koontz classic - and tells you it's one of his favorites. you have to compliment his taste as well, smiling as you notice a familiar title in his hand, one that you happen to have a well worn copy of in your bookshelf at home. simon, as he introduces himself, follows you up to the register as you gush about the novel and how much you love to revisit the all too familiar words every now and again. he insists on paying for your book, lightly tugging it from your hands as you stammer about it not being necessary. maybe it's because he's been nice enough to listen to your enthused rant - or more likely the way he looks down at you with his molten copper eyes - but you don't put up much of a fight.

simon riley who walks away from the shop with your phone number scrawled inside the cover of his new book. he promises to message you soon, the corner of his mouth lifting into a devastating smirk as he turns to stride down the sidewalk. you can't help but watch after him as he leaves, somewhat in awe of the seemingly perfect man who has all but dropped from the heavens into your life. it's hard to stop yourself from smiling for the rest of your trek home. you've never had much patience for 'meet-cutes' and cheesy romance novels, but maybe - just perhaps - they may have some some verity to them.

(simon has never read a dean koontz novel in his life. he hasn't even picked up a book in years, but if that's what it takes you get you to smile that warmly at him again he'll gladly read the entirety of the british library. such a pretty thing. you couldn't have been sweeter, chirping at him excitedly about how happy you were to meet someone with such similar taste. he makes a mental note to study your bookshelf more carefully the next time he drops by, maybe write down a few more of your favorite titles to look into. it's just hard with your curtains always blocking the way.)

[lulurubberduckie]

there's a lot of drabbles out there about Simon 'Ghost' Riley falling in love quickly, calling you his wife and imagining life together in a blink of the eye.

well I put forward to you, Simon who doesn't know he's fallen in love with you, he's completely oblivious to his own actions and how special he treats you, he's unaware that he's let you steal more cigarettes than he'd ever let the 141 combined. he just so oblivious, in fact, his teammates start calling you his wife before he does.

"aw your wife gets you that Riley?" Price mocks with amusement as he spots the little charm dangling precariously off his phone as he sends you a message quickly. he stops and stares at it for a second,

"no." he heads off to go send some new recruit to do 50 laps.

it probably doesn't hit the poor man until you're actively pulling him in for a kiss after he showed up at your door for movie night. his brain short circuits for a second, not comprehending why you're kissing him but then it's like he unlocks secret memories of you, dancing, smiling, laughing, hugging him. all of a sudden he's leaning into the kiss, his heart pounding in his chest. this is what love feels like, he thinks to himself.

[lulurubberduckie]

oh! ok yeah literally unfollow me if you’re a trump supporter??? fucking weirdo

[lulurubberduckie]

i love men that are submissive in a knight to their princess kinda way

[lulurubberduckie]

Off-Putting!Simon Riley with a Reader that matches his freak

Off-Putting!Simon Riley that stares at you like you’re a figment of his imagination. you’re poking around in the kitchen making a quick lunch while Simon’s cleaning dishes— well, he was. he paused when he felt the urge to look at you. he’s been lazily rinsing the same dish for two minutes, looking at you through his pale eyelashes as you quietly move about. he snaps out of it a minute later, your back is to him, but you’ve felt his eyes on you the whole time, “You can keep looking, Simon, just turn the faucet off.”

Off-Putting!Simon Riley that holds you a little too tight. his touch is always loving, but once in a while his blunt nails dig into your skin. small red marks from his fingers pads gripping the fat of your hips around the house left in his wake. in public he’ll do the same, no regard for how it might look to others, his eyes are solely on you. and, oh, Simon adores when you’re affectionately rough with him. he’s taken to wearing t-shirts around you, faded teeth indents littering his biceps from when you’ve felt the need to nip and gnaw at him

Off-Putting!Simon Riley that follows you around the grocery store, he’s been keeping a small distance - idly following you while passersby glance at him. you like it when he shadows you, standing at the edge of the aisle you’re in. he only comes up to you when a man approaches, the poor guy telling you he there’s some ‘strange man’ stalking you through the store. Simon’s suddenly beside you, dark eyes glaring at him as you smile, “Oh— thanks, this is my husband.”, you laugh, smitten when you look up at your Simon

[lulurubberduckie]

texting a number neighbor out of boredom.

> what's the difference between a hippo and a zippo

it's a stupid joke. you don't expect an answer. you’re certain your other number neighbor blocked you. as quickly as you send it, you forget it. you find another distraction. it isn't until hours later, just past midnight, that you get a response.

>> How did you get this number?

it's not much, but it's engagement. you smirk at your glowing screen. should you continue? at best, you make a stranger laugh. at worst, you're only mildly annoying. there's no real harm.

> no guesses then?

when they fail to respond within a few minutes, you figure they decided to block you after all. so, it really is harmless to text again. you owe it to them to finish the joke.

> one is real heavy and the other is a little lighter

you lock your phone, figuring that's that, but—a notification bubble appears.

>> Amateur hour. >> What did Cinderella say when she got to the ball?

you roll over, grinning. you know this one.

> straight to the dirty jokes, stranger?

>> The best kind I know.

> debatable

>> Unlike some, I don’t waste time.

> that why you only last 60 seconds?

it’s a dirty and mean joke, but no cruder than the cinderella punchline. if they can dish it out, they can take it. still. it’s a long couple of minutes before they respond.

>> That was at least 90 seconds.

you snort, rolling over again in bed with a gleeful kick. it goes on like that for a while. filthy joke for filthy joke. bad joke for bad joke. some raunchy. some flirtatious. neither of you bother with names. they never even ask why you texted a random number. eventually you glance at the clock. it’s an ungodly hour. this has gone on long enough.

you send a goodnight message and decide fuck it. you snap a quick photo of yourself in bed, both hands holding it above your head on the pillow. only the lower half of your face is visible to show off your big smile. blurry but cute. definitely no harm in sending it if it isn’t your whole face.

> thanks for making me laugh all night :) have a nice life!

you swiftly block the number, getting ahead of any possible creepy response. the twinge of guilt passes. you choose to believe that you made someone’s day. who wouldn’t want to trade dumb jokes with a cute face?

you let the conversation drift to the back of your head and forget about it. you get busy. no time to dick around like you used to. weeks pass. every once in a while you hear a terrible line and think of your number neighbor, but they stay blocked.

one evening, arriving home late from work, a hand catches the lift door just before it shuts. in steps a massive fella, tall enough that your head dips all the way back when you reflexively ask which floor. he hides behind a mask and a cap, but you glimpse a pale pink scar jutting over a cheekbone. he glances at the panel, and mutters your floor number.

when the lift starts to rise, your stomach sinks. he doesn’t turn around like one would normally. he blocks the doors, wide shoulders heaving with deep breaths. his eyes drill into you, studying you intently.

the moment you decide to hit the elevator’s help button, he speaks.

“why’d the ghost take the lift?”

your mouth dries. wait.

he steps forward, caging you into the corner. the mask lifts slightly in the corners. his eyes crinkle. he’s smiling.

“to lift ‘is spirits.”

he raises an open palm and slots it over the top half of your face, then chuckles. as it comes down, he leans closer.

“why’d you block me, sweet’eart?”

[lulurubberduckie]

something something ghoap as batman and joker at a halloween party

[lulurubberduckie]

controversial opinion but ive suffered enough and should get everything i want for forever from now on and also im pretty cute

[lulurubberduckie]

MacTavish x FemReader

Johnny wants a threesome. Until he finds your audio porn stash. Then you're both a little distracted.

MDNI - 18+

CW: Pushy borderline coercive Johnny, threesome suggested, name calling (slut, whore, fuck toy, etc), audio/voice kink, non-con/dub-con voyeurism.

The beat of the club music is thumping in your chest, vibrating through your bones as your boyfriend's chest heats your back. His stubble scratches your neck as he leans in, looping his arms around your waist, hips grinding his growing bulge into your ass as he nibbles your ear. The shots you'd done together give you lift, untethering you from shame, allowing you to take part in this whole exercise.

" 'member Bonnie, just lookin' t'night." slurs Johnny, hot breath fanning your ear, making you shiver despite the overwhelming heat.

"Dinnae need t' pick.... But take a look at 'im." he croons loud to be heard over the music as he reaches up to pull your chin so you're looking the way he wants. Despite the crowd at the bar, you can tell who he's talking about: the handsome, young, flashy guy with his shirt entirely unbuttoned showing off planes of muscle and a cheeky grin that you're sure Johnny's echoing behind you. And oh you can just about see it. The discussions with him roaring to the forefront of your mind.

How he'd handed the lit match of the idea off to you when you'd been twined together, slick and sweat-drenched. Dropping it as a casual question like it wasn't something that shoved your heart out of your chest and down through your ass.

"Ever thought 'bout a three-way?"

It's an instant and overwhelming dread. A reminder of swimming through request after request to be a 'unicorn' for couples on dating apps, of old boyfriends and girlfriends just assuming it was on the table because you were bi. He must see your face fall, because he's instantly scrambling, hands rubbing your arms and yanking you in under his chin. Muttering apologies and how you don't have to if you don't want to, was just an idea bonnie, and you'd thought it forgotten. A bad idea struck in the afterglow and burnt out quickly.

Until he brings it up again.

And again. But this time, it's after a long day and a few glasses of wine during lazy cuddles on the couch; facing away makes it easier, and the words come bubbling out. Eyes trained on the TV as you confess the attempts that soured you to it all. How you'd been used like some kind of toy to help another girl get off and as eye candy for her boyfriend, not even a weak orgasm for your trouble, all the other times where someone always ended up the third awkward wheel, how it sounds great on paper John but in reality it just doesn't work. And he's humming in agreement and apologies behind you, and again, you think it's burnt out.

Only for it to flare when you turn your back like some insidious hot spot. He starts making use of your toys in his war to win you over. Whispering in your ear about how a tongue would feel so much better when he's fucking into your tight cunt with his hand dragging your vibe over your clit, tugging on the plug in your ass as he grinds his cock through your folds, fanning the flames as he mutters about how hot it'd be to fuck you into someone else's cock.

You don't know if he Pavlov'd you into it or simply wore you down, fire licking the edges of your resistance until it was ash. His match dropped in you now a small flame, burning in desire. Enough that you'd thrown on your slinkiest club outfit to come out and 'window shop' with him. Because that's all you were doing. It didn't hurt to fantasize right? You hadn't lied, it always sounded great in theory. More cock, more pussy, more hands, tongues and teeth - what's not to love? And it makes you shiver in his hold despite the club's muggy air; you can almost feel how it'd be to be sandwiched between the mystery man and Johnny. How he'd run his hands up to your nipples, keeping your mouth busy with his as Johnny continues his bump and grind behind you. Your mouth is dry, and you don't know how, but John must be able to tell because he starts pressing you forward, pushing you toward the bar with a gentle shove and a wink.

"Jus' say hi, tha's all love. Dinnae need t' do more."

And maybe the shots were stronger than you thought. Maybe the fire he lit inside you was bigger than you knew but you do. It's almost an out-of-body experience feeling your feet move as you walk towards the stranger, his eyes half-lidded as he looks you over with a smirk that makes your stomach wobble.

You barely manage to mumble out your name and a hello before he purrs back, "Hello gorgeous."

And the desire in your belly evaporates. Pussy dryer than the Sahara in an instant, you backtrack frantically, muttering out excuses to his confused face as you turn tail and scurry to the safety of your baffled boyfriend.

"Th' hell did he say t' you bonnie?" he asks as he's looking you over like you're coming back from a fight rather than a bad attempt to pick up a stranger. He instantly goes into protective mode, "I'll fuck 'im up." and you're scrabbling to grab onto his arm to hold him back. Thankfully you manage to talk him out of it. Distracting him with kisses and raking your nails through his hair does the trick, leading to him dragging you out of the club and back home, you barely make it in the door. Dress up around your waist as he pounds you into the floor just inside the door of your flat you think it's forgotten. Gone just like your thoughts in the explosion of your orgasm, sprawling on the cool floor, the tile welcome against your overheated skin as John flops panting beside you.

Until he groans and you turn your head to see those curious blue eyes boring into you as he rolls to stare at you.

"What was all tha'? He insult your ma or somethin'? Ya looked like he pissed in your cornflakes." he drags you in as he says it, nuzzling into your neck.

"Just didn't like him." you deflect and you feel the puff of air as he snorts.

"Righ'. An' I'm the virgin Mary." he's digging his nose under your jaw like a dog and you know he's just as unlikely to drop this bone.

"His voice was awful," you mutter and it startles a bark of laughter out of him.

"What?" he laughs, pulling back to stare at you incredulously. Indignant you squirm in his hold and huff as he grins, defending your bruised feelings.

"It was all nasal and pitchy and-" you sputter and he cuts you off laughing again, "Pitchy? Really bonnie?"

Pouting, you turn away from him, gaining your feet as he snorts and he's scrambling to stand behind you. Draping himself over your shoulders as you start the awkward shuffle to the bathroom, trying to avoid dripping on the floor.

"So you got a thing, for voices eh bonnie?" he's smirking at you. You can hear it, and it's confirmed when the bathroom mirror comes into view, his self-assured mug unrepentant and smug.

Feeling petty you shove him off your shoulders and grab his towel to wipe between your legs.

"So what?" your voice is sharp, but you're hurt; it's hard not to feel mocked the way he'd laughed like a loon, and you can almost see him shift gears. Blue eyes flashing as his grin turns slow and naughty, "Tha' mean you got some naughty audio?"

It feels so out of left field that your tipsy brain has no way to catch up, and it has your mouth flapping like a landed fish, and that has him crowing, "I knew it!"

Crowding into you with a wicked grin, he asks "Gonna share bonnie? Hmm?"

Stunned by the rapid shift, you're still floundering as he wheedles and bargains, "C'mon, please love. Show me yours and I'll show you mine?"

The way he grins and the glimmer in his eyes have always been your weakness. It's how he reeled you in in the first place, sealing the deal with his rumble and the accent. So you cave. And he's practically glued to your side, vibrating with excitement as he follows you to the bedroom and your earbuds. Pulling you into his lap and peering over your shoulder as you navigate with trembling fingers to your go-to audio. You hand him both headphones but he surprises you by tucking one into your ear and the other in his own. Winking as he hits play on your phone the voice in your ear starts up.

It's like you fall through his eyes, sky blue darkening in a storm threat until you're plunging into blue as dark as the deep sea. He's licking his lips, and the voice in your ear is murmuring about how soft your skin is when John's hand on your thigh makes you jump, and you both freeze, looking at each other.

"Christ, I need you." is groaned in your ear, and you don't know who snaps first, you or John. Your dress is ripped off over your head, and his shirt goes flying. Pants and underwear shoved frantically down his legs as his tongue and teeth chase you onto the the bed as you crawl back. Hands sliding over your skin and murmuring praise into your flesh as the audio continues to play, dropping groans and filth into both your ears. It's an explosive mix, Johnny's tongue on your clit and the voice in your ear moaning about how much of a fucking slut you are. It must be firing him up as much as it is you because he's moving with a ferocity you've only usually seen when he returns from brutally long deployments. Fingers digging into your thighs deep enough to bruise as you feel the bed bounce, his hips desperately fucking into it in a search for stimulation. Reaching down, you dig your fingers into the muscle of his shoulders desperately, and he must get the message because he comes surging up, teeth clacking against yours in a brutal kiss as he slams his drooling cock into you. There's no time to adjust but he slides right in despite how you clench at his intrusion. Both of you groan at how wet you are and the way he slides through your walls because of it. He barely pulls out, grabbing your leg to spin you and plaster his chest to your back, reaching new depths. Cock head bumping deeper as his thrusts grind your clit into the mattress. That alone would be enough to send you skyrocketing through to your orgasm, but he one-ups it, reaching around to put you in a headlock. Leaving you breathless and helpless to take how he frantically pounds into you and how he rumbles into your ear that doesn't have the earbud. It's surround sound of your kinks, John's voice in one ear, the audio in the other, throat squeezed by his bicep as his cock surges through you. You can't keep track of where it's all coming from, reduced to sensation and sound. Stuck just experiencing it all, pleasure an overwhelming crash through you.

"So pretty baby." is breathlessly groaned in your ear by someone as John's tip bullies your G spot. You can feel him throb in you with, "Look at your pretty little cunt taking my cock. So fucking hungry for it."

"Moaning like the little whore you are." has you whining and ready to beg, your orgasm right there and his pace doubles.

"Taking it so good baby." is crooned into your ear while there are groans in the other. And that's it. You're splintering into a million pieces, every nerve lit up and you feel Johnny lose his rhythm and his cock kick in you as your orgasm milks his own from him.

Both of you collapse to pant on the bed as you gather up the pieces of your grey matter. His hand is gentle as he removes your earbud, but his eyes and smile are wicked.

"Jesus bonnie, tha' was amazing." he says around his grin and you're loose in your limbs and mind, floaty and giddy, giggling at his words. He grins wider and pulls you in for a snuggle as you slowly come back down. Pressing soft kisses to your cheek as he rambles to you, and it slowly filters in. He has his own collection. And he wants to show you.

And with that, the threesome fire he nurtured so carefully is banked or redirected you're not sure but either way, he takes off after this new idea like a wildfire. Charging full in. Diligently sharing his own catalogue, working through yours with you and while your sex life had never been bad it's been ratcheted up to new heights that have your days passing in toe-curled bliss. Until you're woken up by one of those phone calls in the night, hugging your arms around you from the chill as you watch him pack. Trying to say your love aloud and with the kisses you see him off with.

The first few days are as brutal as always, the ache of missing him raw and fresh. But as it goes it becomes something you learn to live around, like every deployment before. It gets easier when he starts messaging. Signs of life and all. And just like the other deployments it starts sweet. Checking in with you about your day, and your week, asking about the local team's scores, passing on vague stories and so on. And just like the others it takes about a week for him to crack and ask for dirty pics. So soon your chat is interspersed with naughty photos and occasionally you or him sending audios you like back and forth. It seems a natural progression that after the deployment stretches on for a full month and a half he asks for "Just a little video bonnie." in a pleading voice message, blatantly using his own deep timbre against you.

It's further than you've gone before though, and it makes you balk, timid. Trying to skirt around it, deflecting, but he sees right through you even in text. Your phone pings with the alert and you see he's shared an audio file with you, some downloaded file that's a favorite of his no doubt. The voice message popping up soon after.

"Please? For me babe? Don't even need to see your pretty little pussy. Just your face. Wanna see you cum. It's been too long. Give it a listen. It's good. I promise." he's practically whining and you think of him, tucked away into some grungy bunker, halfway around the world and your stupid soft heart melts. Then caves.

So later that night you slide your headphones in and hit play, balancing your phone so it can film your face. Honestly, you half expected to hear Johnny in your ear, instead, it's a man's deep rumble you haven't heard before but it goes straight to your clit. Clearly, John's been taking notes about what you like because it's like some kinky wish list come true.

"Ain't you a pretty bird?" croons the gravelly voice and your thighs clench. You'd almost accuse Johnny of finding some kind of hypnotic audio with how you start automatically following the orders coming through your headphones.

"Bet those nipples o' yours are aching, you little slut. Practically beggin' t' be pinched." is followed by a mean-sounding laugh that almost makes you whimper.

"Ya going to be a good little slut and pinch 'em for me? Yeah? Work 'em over good till that sloppy cunt is dripping for me?" has your fingers moving without thought until it's exactly as he says and you're biting your lip automatically to stop from moaning as the voice continues rumbling in your ears. Deep tones denigrating and praising you as your fingers make their way to tease your entrance and slide over your throbbing clit. You don't know how much time has passed and it can't have been long but you're already teetering on the edge of euphoria, "Gonna rub that naughty little clit for me yeah? Only good girls get to come though."

It's automatic, falling from your blissed-out mind and tongue, "Please!"

"Hmmm." chuckles the voice, before saying softer than anything before, "You gonna come on your fingers you lil' tart? Come on then, le's hear it."

Your orgasm rips through you in a full-body shudder, leaving you moaning into the pillow. It's embarrassing, so much so that you can't even watch the video before sending it off to Johnny. Yeeting it into the digital gulf between you two and scurrying off to hide in the blissful ignorance of sleep.

When you wake up it's clearly been well received with a flurry of text messages waiting for you along with a five-minute long rambling voice message that you listen to twice. Once just hearing it for the first time. The second with your fingers stuffed in your cunt as you listen again to how his voice shakes as he rambles about how pretty you are when you cum and the slick sounds of his fist around his cock. Only the looming threat of you being late for work keeps you from going for a third listen. It breaks the proverbial dam and soon he's sending you more clips of the same VA as well as his own, and you send back videos of your own enjoyment. Not long after that you start getting his own videos back, the black glove choking his dick hypnotizing as it throbs and weeps milky cum, you faintly can hear the audio playing in the background as Johnny's own voice drips filth in your ears.

It makes for a particularly explosive homecoming. Really you don't know how you made it home from the airport you picked him up at without getting either a speeding ticket or an indecency charge. But you're not complaining as he plows you through the hall floor, then again over the couch, then slower in the shower and finally in the bed. You're aching and tingly, all your muscles feeling like jelly as he sleepily murmurs beside you, something about just doing delivery and you have to agree. There's no way your legs are up for standing and cooking so you order Indian and around your curry, he shares what stories he can before you both crash into the bed.

Slowly the sexcapades slow from the fervour of the freshly returned and it takes two weeks of him being home again before he even brings it up.

It's cute, he's clearly a little nervous, shifting awkwardly as he holds out the earbud, face pleading.

"It's fer couples. One for each o' us bonnie. It's that guy ye like."

It's not a hard sell honestly, and you're smiling at him as you put in the headphone, it'd be impossible not to with how his eyes light up and the wide grin that splits his face. His own earbud tucked in he starts to frantically kiss you, lips sealed to yours over and over around the interruptions caused by how you're both working the clothes off of each other.

"Slow down." rumbles the audio, and you feel him shudder under your hands, "Bird like tha' deserves t' be savoured."

Johnny slows, and your mind spins as he starts to just sloppily make out with you, fingers lightly teasing achingly slow circles around your nipples.

"Tha's a good boy, pretty bird ought t' show him how good yeah? Go on, grab his cock." croons the voice and your fingers are moving automatically to his dick as Johnny groans into your mouth.

"Tha's a good slut." purrs the audio, making you shudder as you squeeze his length, gliding your thumb over his tip that's slowly seeping pearly white.

John mutters into your neck, "Bloody Jesus, I ain't gonna last." and it makes you snort, just as the audio starts up again.

"Gotta lick those pretty nipples hmm? Give 'em a nibble f' me?" and you're gasping as Johnny licks, sucks, and bites as the deep voice continues.

"Look at that, lil' whore likes her tits bein' played with don't ya? Filthy girl. Bet you're bloody soaked down then, drooling for some fingers like the slut y' are." it makes you gasp and squeeze John's cock so he pops off your nipples with a groan, his head tilting back and hips thrusting up into your fist.

"Two needy little fuck toys here," chuckles the voice as John grabs blindly at your hips, "gonna have to work together now yeah? Want ya both stuffed full of some fingers until you're drooling like the slags y' are."

It has you looking wildly at John who just shoots you a grin that's manic, eyes wild before his middle finger plunges deep into you. Still, you hesitate but you can't for long, John's free hand snatching yours up and guiding it around. Pressing your finger into his ass as you stare shocked at him until he scissors his fingers inside you and you startle. Moving your hand, your finger, accidentally and he groans. It stirs something inside you and you slowly begin to match him thrust for thrust, slowly pumping your finger into his ass as he works another into your dripping pussy.

"Such good lil' slags." hums the voice and you clench around Johnny's fingers, "Don't forget, good sluts don't come without permission."

Johnny groans at that and meanly strums his thumb across your clit, setting your inner thighs to trembling as you fight to not come on his fingers. Whining "John!" earns you a small reprieve as he eases back to gently scissor his fingers inside instead and you decide to get revenge. Finding the small bulge inside his ass you begin to stroke it firmly, dropping your head to his chest and running your tongue around his nipple. A punched out, "Fuck!" comes from his lips as you bully his prostate and his hips start to move as the voice in both your ears chuckles.

"No coming now."

Reminded of this 'rule' Johnny sets to strumming your clit again and it becomes some twisted game of chicken as you drag each other towards orgasm. The deep rumble dropping praise and insults in equal measure, rough timbre giving orders to you both until you swear you can't handle anymore.

"Think your dick deserves to get wet now yeah?"

His sentence is barely complete before John's ripped himself off your finger and his own fingers out of you to replace them with his cock. It's a delicious shock as his girth stretches you wide before he's setting a brutal pace. Desperately clinging to his shoulders you barely make out the chiding tone.

"Ah, ah, fuck 'er right. Slow. Deep. Gotta make that messy cunt drool all over your cock."

John's hips stutter but slow, and instead settle for an achingly deep slow push in and out. It has you begging in short order, so close to euphoria, needing just that little edge more to reach sheer bliss. Pleases fall from your lips in a litany that John grits his teeth through as the voice coos condescendingly.

"Poor bird. Do y' need to come?"

Both you and Johnny nod at that as he's panting into your neck and you can feel his shoulders shake with the exertion of holding back.

"Christ can just imagine me there. Fuckin' y' ass open, stuffin' you full of cock. You'd love tha' wouldn't ya? Fucked from both sides like the fuck toy y' are?"

Tears are streaming down your face and you think Johnny's biting your neck but it's hard to focus on that when you hear the rough chuckle, "G'on then, cum like a good slut f' me."

It's explosive, near-instantaneous at his words, you shatter to pieces, body clenching and releasing in rolling wave after wave of ecstasy. John swearing and hips stuttering as he fucks his own climax deeper into you through the last spasms of his cock.

It takes a long time for you to string your thoughts back together, but luckily John seems to have it somewhat together. Gently pulling the earbud from you with a sweet kiss before staggering off to the bathroom as you hear him muttering under his breath. Returning with a damp and warm towel you trade soft kisses as you clean yourselves up. With a throw John sends the towel off to the laundry hamper in the corner and drags you in for a snuggle, your eyes closing in the warmth of his chest you gather enough presence of mind to murmur to him, "Should set an alarm."

He groans at that, "I left my phone on the dresser, do we need t'?"

Cracking an eye open you blearily judge the distance to the dresser across the bedroom. Deciding it's not worth losing the snuggles you respond with a 'nah' and a kiss to his chest.

It comes back to bite you in the morning. Thankfully your body is used enough to your routine that it wakes you close enough to your regular alarm that you don't end up late for work, but the mad scramble you have to do to get there sets the tone for the rest of the day. Leaving you off kilter and tense until you're finally unlocking the door to your flat.

Only to freeze at the sight of the behemoth peering at you over the back of your couch through some kind of ghoulish skull balaclava. Your heart drops into your shoes, fear surging forward until Johnny pops up and spins you into a hug, "Ah bonnie! Dinnae le' Ghost scare ye, he's not as bad as he looks."

Dragging you forward as he beams, "Come on an' say hi, he's my lieutenant ye ken."

Pushing at your shoulders until you're sitting next to Ghost you try to shove the fear away and timidly turn to face him.

Offering your name and hand in hello earns you a handshake from a vaguely familiar black glove and a thundering heart when you meet his brown eyes. It kicks fully out of your control as the adrenaline surges when you hear "Ain't you a good dove?" in a way too familiar tone.

[lulurubberduckie]

Johnny has been in a coma for 2 years 5 months, and 18 days. Who just barely survived long enough to get medical attention after Makarov. Who has become a part of the slim statistic of people who’ve survived a gunshot wound to the head. Whose brain scans show limited activity and such little chance of waking up.

But when his family gets asked if they’re ready to let him go his Ma shakes her head.

“God will take him when he’s ready.”

It’s not common that young guys get put in long-term care facilities like yours. Most of the time it’s older folks whose families can’t let them go and are using pensions to pay the rent costs.

At the start, his room is full of visitors. Big family. Very religious you’ve learned. A boy's bible is set alongside flowers.

Between the swathes of dark hair and bright blue eyes are a couple of other individuals. Quiet but polite.

“Teammates.” The dark-skinned man offers with a strained smile when you give him a curious look. “Military.”

It’s not long till his room quiets down. Visits becoming fewer. His family who was already a little detached from their son you concluded. Between the secretive work and deployments that kept him from home for months.

The team came by when they could though. Enough for you to learn their names and details about your resident.

You glean little things about him here and there. Find the sketchbook with his name on it left by the one named Simon. See the tattoo on his forearm obscured the thick curtain of arm hair. Listen politely to the questionable stories told by Gaz that always left Laswell's head shaking.

Quite the man Soap was is. No one’s given you an explanation on that nickname yet but the military guys that come in always call him by it.

You do what you can to keep him comfortable. Trimming his hair, changing out the gospel music for an audiobook every once in a while, talking to him whenever you’re in the room.

Well more so talking at him. Venting frustrations and complaints in hushed words so no one walking by hears you. Talking about your lazy coworkers, the overly loud upstairs neighbours in your apartment, and how you had to sit through another family dinner alone because your boyfriend made some excuse to not come again.

It’s easy to just talk when you’re in the room with him. Feels less like you’re going insane because you can reason that you’re talking for *his sake.* Not yours. Because what if he can hear you yknow?

……

You’ve just transferred him back over after changing his bed sheets, crouched and folding the linen under the mattress while you talk about your plans for this coming Christmas. How you’re excited for that one chocolate pop up shop that always comes to your mall-

You just about shit yourself when you stand back up and look to the head of the bed and see two slits of blue through his tan eyelids. Dark brown brows pinched in just slightly to create a crease between them.

……

A blinding white light accompanying a splitting headache was what he saw first. Eyelids sticky against his corneas. Weight of a thousand sins holding his muscles paralyzed and unable to flinch away.

Then the light flickered and he saw you.

Frizzy hair curling a fluorescent halo over your head. A swinging, unblinking eye glinting off of your chest.

Johnny who tells his weepy-eyed mother that it’s okay, he had the voice of an angel guiding him the whole time. That’s what brought him back.

[lulurubberduckie]