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ryuzakemo128 · 1 day ago

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I had this thought earlier but never knew how to fit it in so why then we just do a

Imagine if… You, as the POC! Intelligence Officer, got hit with some sort of enemy “sex pollen”-esque thing and have to rely on a conflicted 141. (Warning: MDNI, Bad smut, ANGST, long as fuck) - also instead of a gender neutral reader, it’s more of AFAB reader because I don’t know how to write GN!smut so my bad)

So imagine, at this point, the 141 had began to ice you out and you are still trying to figure out what happened. So in an attempt to get back in their good graces, you decide to do a late-night mail sesh. Maybe you could find some sort of holy grail of intelligence that will prove your worth again.

So you’re so determined in finding something that you start opening envelopes and packages without little care. With so little care that you rip into a weird looking package and immediately get sprayed with some weird powder. You jump back, but it’s too late, you’ve already inhaled the foreign substance.

Trained for a situation like this, you sound off the alarm, alerting the base of the tainted package. You’re immediately taken into medical to monitor your health.

The 141 are immediately made aware of the situation and rush to the infirmary. The four pace outside, devestated that you were hurt and they weren’t with you.

Their blood goes cold when the base’s head doctor calls the four in the hallway, brow furrowed. They listen intently as the doctor explains you were hit by a new toxic agent that just entered the black market. They all sigh in relief when the doctor explains that the medical team had gotten word of it weeks prior and figured out a way to combat the agent’s effects. However, relief quickly turns into the weirdest mix of shock and arousal when the doctor explains…

“The agent attacks the hypothalamus, making the body go into overdrive. The quickest way to negate its affects while also flushing it from the body is rigorous intercourse. So if you want to save your intelligence officer, someone will need to go in there and give them a hand.”

After explaining your exact state (lucid but incredibly horny), the doctor leaves the four to decide who was going to help you. Johnny, Kyle, and Simon all look at their captain, unsure on what this meant in terms of the pact.

“This is for them, not us,” Price announces. The other three nod. Kyle opens his mouth to ask how would they decide, but before he could say anything, Ghost walks to your door and turns your doorknob.

“Woah, woah, woah. Who said you could do it?” barks Soap. Kyle joins Soap in glaring down at the Lieutenant.

Ghost slowly opens the door. “I’m the only one who won’t enjoy this.” And with that, he walks in.

You really didn’t think this could get much worse. Instead of making life easier for your boys, you just stressed them out. And now in order to save your life, your poor lieutenant has to take one for the team and touch you. Fuck, you’d rather die than let that poor man go through with this.

Despite the growing heat between your legs, you try to shrink yourself in as Ghost enters the room. Fuck, he looks good. Strong, big, powerful. Shit, you wanted him. But he didn’t want you.

So lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize how close Ghost had gotten until he was practically hovering over you. Not really, but that’s how close he felt as he sat by your side.

“You okay, pretty thing?” You couldn’t help but moan at that. You tried to fold yourself further in, but Ghost wasn’t having none of that. He gently turns you towards him, forcing your body to spread out.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he soothes. He caressed your face. “I know the situation sucks, but let me help. Please. I— we, we can’t lose you,” he pleas. You were caught off guard. You had never heard your lieutenant so soft before.

“But,” you try to stabilize your voice, but you couldn’t hide the strain in it, “you don’t want this.” You try to leave his grasp to further sell your point, but Ghost holds you down. He leans towards your face and stares straight into your eyes.

“I want this. I. Want. You,” he enunciates each word. You didn’t think you could get any hotter. You stare straight into his eyes to search for any hesitation or disgust. Instead, Ghost’s eyes are twinkling, clear sign he’s smiling under that mask. Fuck, that mask. Maybe you do have a mask kink.

“Promise?” You whimper.

Ghost leans down and digs his face in your neck. “Promise.”

That’s all the confirmation you needed. You sit up and throw yourself against your Lieutenant. You push him against the bed and crawl over him. Fuck, you knew he was big, but feeling him under you made the size difference even more glaring. You weren’t necessarily tiny yourself but damn did he make you feel small. That alone makes you go dumb.

And Ghost knows he said that he wasn’t going to enjoy this but fuck did he feel good. He wished y’all’s first time wasn’t under these circumstances but it is what it is. Your entire body pressed against his, begging for more. If this was going to be a one time thing, then Ghost was going to savor it to its fullest. He moved further in the bed and pushed you deeper on his lap. He grabbed your back and rocked you against his groin. You immediately cry in pleasure at the extra fiction. Ghost needs to hear that again.

“Do that again,” he begs. He rolls you over and starts to drive his hips into yours. You moan which only fuels the Lieutenant more. There’s no way you don’t feel what you’re doing to him.

“Come here, pretty thing,” Ghost pleads. He tears his mask off. Now it’s the moment of truth. You look up and stop rocking against him. Shit, did Ghost fuck up?

No actually as you crash your lips against his. You moan against his mouth, eager to taste your Lieutenant. Not one to waste an opportunity, Ghost reciprocates your kiss with the same fervor.

You’re the first to break for air. He moves down towards your neck as he fumbles with the button of your pants. Ghost couldn’t believe his luck. After weeks of ignoring you, he’s now about to devour you whole. You continue to moan against his neck as he continues to rock against your hip. As much as he loves to hear your moans, Ghost needed something more.

“Say my name. Say my name, baby. Say Simon, say Simon,” Simon babbles. You just moan in response. Ghost grinds harder into you, hoping it will egg you on to say his name. Instead, of saying his name however, you grab at his shirt, tugging it up his torso.

Understanding what you want, Ghost gets up and takes a good look at you. He stares down and takes in your heaving chest, your gaping mouth, and your empty eyes. Your empty eyes. That makes Simon’s blood run cold.

What the fuck is he doing?

He treats you like shit for weeks and now suddenly he’s going to be your knight in shining armor by fucking you while you’re under the influence. What kind of man is he.

“I can’t do this.” Ghost jumps off the bed in disgust. He rushes out of the room, unable to be in the same space with you a moment longer. He is greeted by a sitting Price and Soap. They both jump up in shock, surprised to see the lucky Lieutenant maskless, but fully clothed. Before anyone can say anything, Ghost rushes past them, leaving the two confused.

“What the fuck happened?” asks Soap. He strides towards your door and peaks inside. It doesn’t look like you’ve been satiated so what happened? John stays silent. He recognized that look in Simon’s eyes.

“Soap, go. I’ll check on Ghost,” John states. Soap didn’t need to be told twice.

The door slamming nearly sobers you up. If your body wasn’t already hot, you know it would be burning in shame. Ghost didn’t want you. Ghost got a taste and couldn’t go through with it. Ghost… Simon was disgusted by you.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you fail to notice the Scottish sergeant enter the room until he slips in your bed. He maneuvers your head so its between his bicep and chest. You try to pull away, not wanting to disgust another member of your team, but Soap doesn’t allow it.

Pulling you back in, he whispers against your head, “no, no, none of that. I’m here to help, mo ghraidh.” He pulls you in closer so your body is right against his. “Nearly killed L.t. when he went in your room first.” You let out an airy gasp in response which only eggs Soap on. He slides his hand down your torso until it reaches the top of your pants. He toys with the buttons and breathes against your head, “let me help, please.”

Fuck, you need this. You need him. You moan out a yes in his ear and further press yourself against him. He immediately slips his fingers down your pants and underwear and gets to work.

“Jesus, you’re wet,” breathes out Soap. In any other circumstances, Soap would have been worried for Ghost, but he couldn’t help but feel grateful right now. He has you exactly where’s he wanted for the longest time: moaning, wet, and begging for more. He alternates between rubbing your clit and slipping a few fingers in you which only makes you moan. To his delight, you dig your face into his neck, nipping at every piece of skin you could get.

With every moan and nip, Johnny felt his pants get tighter and tighter. However, as much as Johnny wanted to ravage you, he had to remain poised. Sure the doctor said you were still cognizant, but that doesn’t mean you wanted this… or at least wanted this in this way. So Johnny remained professional… controlled. He’ll let you take what you need and that’s it. Your pleasure was his main task at hand.

And fuck was he giving it to you. You had to give it to your sergeant, he was good with his fingers. You pull your pants down as you knew with a little more space, Soap would be able to get you to see stars in no time. Intuitive as always, Johnny helps you, one hand on your pants and another on you.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you babble against his neck. You needed more. More of Johnny. You stretch your head further up, landing wet, hot kisses against his jaw. Just a little more and your lips would be against his. Just. A. Little. Mo—

“Ah, ah, ah,” tsked Johnny. He slowly pushes your head down and curls his arm over it. “Whores don’t deserve kisses,” he growls in your ear. The room only gets hotter, but not in the fun way. The reality of the situation suddenly washes over you. Here you are, bottoms off, getting fingered by your fully clothed co-worker who frankly hasn’t said a single word to you in weeks. Is he even enjoying this?

“Stop,” you gently cry. You push on his chest which he responds by holding you tighter in his grasp. He says something, but you are so overwhelmed by shame and embarrassment, you fail to hear him. You fight against his grasp and begin to squirm. Realizing the situation, Johnny releases you from his grasp, allowing you to scoot fully away from him.

“Get out,” you state. You reach for the bed’s sheets and cover yourself as your body burns from both shame and arousal.

“Wait, I wasn’t talking about y—,” he begins, butyou interrupt him, asking him to leave once more. Shame clearly painted all over your face. That was the last thing Johnny wanted you to feel in this moment.

“Please mo ghraidh, I didn’t—“

“GET OUT JOHNNY…please,’ you cry. Johnny’s heart shattered as he sees tears brim your eyes. Realizing his time was up, he got up and left the room.

Much to his dismay, Johnny is met with his Captain and recovered Lieutenant. He just looks down and joins the pair at the bench, silent but very clear in his message: he fucked up.

The three sit in silence. John is the first one to speak as he asks about Kyle’s whereabouts.

“You have to do it.”

“What?”

“You have to do it,” Ghost states. His voice emotionless and hollow. “We have no clue where Kyle is and he’s not answering his phone. They don’t have a lot of time and Johnny and I already messed up.”

John takes in a sharp breath. It’s not like he didn’t want to because Lord knows that he wants to. He just didn’t think he deserved to. How does the man who ordered for your isolation get to accompany you in your most vulnerable state,

“Save them,” adds Johnny who shifts in his seat, clearly still affected by his time with you.

Price shifts his gaze from the two men to your door. Determined to save you, he rises from his seat and opens the door.

You grip on the sheets harder as the door lets in a harsh glow of light in, another reminder of your situation.

“It’s fine. I can handle it,” you groan out as you cover yourself with the bed sheet.

“You know I can’t do that, sweetheart.” You squeeze your legs together at your captain’s deep voice. He timidly approaches the bed and takes a seat at the edge of the bed. He tries to shrink himself to no avail. “I don’t know what got into Ghost and Soap and I promise you, I will have a word with them, but right now, you’re my priority. So tell me, how can I help?”

You shrink yourself further in the bed, fighting every nerve in your body telling you to mount your captain.

Your captain slides his body towards you with one of his arms leading. “This isn’t your fault, sweetheart. It’s never been your fault.” You can’t help but look at him as his voice falters. You’re taken aback when you see guilt flash across his face.

“Please, let me make this right,” he pleads. On your most desperate nights, it’s been your captain’s dominance that’s gotten you to unwind, but right now, your captain’s unexpected submission was making your entire body burn with desire.

Unable to fight the urge anymore, you look straight into Price’s eyes and slowly took the covers off yourself. His eyes widened as your bare legs were unveiled. He kept his eyes on yours, trying to be as respectful as he could. You stretch out your legs and slowly spread them.

“Say it,” your captain breathes out.

“Eat me,” you whisper.

Those two words are all that John needs. He lunges forward and hooks your legs over his shoulders. It’s time - just the moment he dreamed of for months.

John dug his face in your cunt and got to work. He wasn’t sure who moaned louder, you or him. With how wet you were, John knew his beard was just soaked but he could care less. All he cared right now was making you scream over and over and—

“Fuck captain,” you screamed. John pulls you in closer, lifting your entire lower half off the bed and closer to his face. He wanted to feel you finish on his lips. The louder you got the tighter his pants became. He couldn’t believe he was denying himself and his boys this. You are perfect.

As your screams turn to whines, John slowly lays you down to catch his breath which isn’t long as he begins to pepper your inner thighs with kisses.

“Better?” he asks. You shoot him a quick glance before tugging his hair and pulling him up. John eagerly follows your lead. His eyes catch the ways your gaze shyly glance down at his lips. Not wanting to deny you anymore, he passionately takes your lips, kissing you with the same fervor he had when he ate you out. To his delight, you kiss back just as fiercely.

Despite the orgasm, your body aches for more. As you tasted yourself on Price’s lips, you toy with his pant buttons, hoping he’ll indulge you with something bigger.

“Say it,” Price jests against your lips. You feel his lips curl into a smile. You can’t help but laugh at the irony of the situation.

“What’s so funny?” he asks. His eyes crinkle with joy. It’s been awhile since you’ve seen those eyes.

Without a second thought, you answer “you’re looking at me like I haven’t been a pain in your ass these past few weeks.” You giggle, trying to hide the pain you’ve felt these past few weeks.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh c’mon John, let’s be honest here,” you start. “You and the rest of the guys have treated me like shit for weeks now… for good reason though,” you quickly add. Oblivious to your captain’s inner turmoil, you push him on the bed and begin to feather kisses all over his face. “But don’t worry, maybe I can make it up right now,” you joke. Fueled by the drug in your system, you pull John’s pants and underwear down, revealing his well-endowed member.

“You really don’t have to,” John pushes back as your breath hit his dick. Despite it being the a dream come true, he couldn’t let you pleasure him under the guise of ‘you making it up to him.’ If anything, he should be making it up to you. He hurt you. He made you feel worthless. He doesn’t deserve your kindness. He should be on his knees for week and erasing every ounce of doubt in that pretty head of yours. He doesn’t deserve to feel good. He deserves to suffer.

And to your dismay, his body agrees. Within your own mouth, John’s dick softens. You try to ignore it and reason it was all in your head. But as the extra limb got softer and softer, shame overtook your body. Are you really that undesirable?

John gently tugs on your head and asks that you let him try. His voice is tight (with embarrassment). John scoots to the edge of the bed and tugs on his dick, hoping to revive it. You watch as it refuses to come back.

“Fuck,” he barks. He glances back at you and assures you it’s not your fault. Despite his reassurances, you can’t help but feel disgusted by yourself. Three men, three busts. One walked out, another didn’t want your touches, and now your captain is unable to get it up. You inch yourself away from John until your back hit the bed’s frame. You grab the sheets once more to cover yourself.

You break the silence that had filled the room. “It’s okay. You can stop now.” John’s shoulders slump.

“Sweetheart—“ he starts but you really didn’t want to hear it.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to excuse yourself,” you try comforting your captain who you think is distraught by his performance. “I know it’s not your fault.” You see John’s back slightly straighten before it relaxes once more. “You can g—.” Before you can even let out that “o,” John shoots up from the bed and pulls up his pants. As he strides out the exit, you can’t help but yell out a quick, “thank you for trying.”

Price freezes at that. With the door slightly agape, he sadly mutters, “I’ll get Kyle.” And with that, you’re alone once more.

Kyle couldn’t help but glare at his exiting captain. He couldn’t believe his luck. Bad enough Ghost was the who got to help you but now you’re telling him that Ghost AND Soap AND now Price all had the chance to help you but all fucked up.

“Un-fucking-believable,” he spits as Price leans against the wall, shame written all over his face. “I leave for what? 30 minutes? And you all got your dick wet without helping them.”

“I didn’t even pull it out.” “Technically my fingers were the ones that got wet.” “My dick wouldn’t even get hard.”

Kyle glared them all to silence. “It doesn’t matter if THEY’RE still dying.” Gaz couldn’t believe his team. Determined on saving you, he strides to your door, leaving the other three to wallow in their guilt.

“Baby?” Kyle calls out. His heart breaks as he takes in your heaving, sweaty body. You quickly glance at Kyle and let out mix of a groan and moan. Not wanting to waste another minute, he crawls in your bed and presses you against him. “I’m right here, baby. I’m right here.”

“Kyle?” you groan out. You try to leave his grasp but Kyle wasn’t having it. He begins to kiss your neck and caress your body over the sheets.

“I’m right here. Let me make you feel better,” Kyle begs. He can’t lose you. You’ve been slipping from his fingers for weeks, but now, he’s going to hold on to you and never let go.

While Kyle didn’t want to let you go, all you want to do is escape. You are done. It’s bad enough that your teammates ignore you for weeks, but now, while you’re at your lowest, they all come get a quick taste and gag. You aren’t even angry. Just hurt. And really confused because why does Kyle care so much?

“Use me.” You stop pushing against him and look up at him. Your entire body began to burn at the idea of using Kyle “Gaz” Garrick for your pleasure. And it seems like Kyle noticed your excitement.

“You like that?” he whispers in your ear. “You on top,” he kisses your cheek, “or I’m on top,” a kiss to your other cheek, “I could be on my knees,” a kiss to your forehead, “or you could be on your knees,” a gentle kiss on your nose, “we can do whatever you want.”

Your head starts to ring by the contrast between Kyle’s dirty promises and sweet kisses. You aren’t sure what’s hotter, free rein with a special forces sergeant or for once, after weeks, being in complete control of your own pleasure.

“Take it off,” you command. To your joy, Kyle immediately starts to strip. Now determined to put yourself first, you rip the covers off your body and take off the last few articles of clothing on your body. As soon as Gaz finished, he began to crawl over your body. However, not wanting to be under him anymore, you push him on his back and climb on top of him.

“Take whatever you need,” Kyle breathes out which only makes you wetter. You couldn’t help but moan when you felt Kyle’s already hard member between your legs. You grab his dick and slowly ease yourself on it. You groan in delight as Gaz’ dick filled you up. Determined to end this once and for all, you start to bounce. Your moans, Kyle’s groans, and skin slapping fill the room. In another life, this would have been a dream come true. Instead, this is just a means to an end. While you try to ignore the implications of you sleeping with your sergeant and really the entire 141, Kyle beings to babble.

“You’re perfect,” Kyle groans, “everything I’ve dreamed of.” As he starts to spew our compliments, you can’t help but cringe. Of course, the only time Kyle compliments you is when you’re riding his dick.

“I love y—.” Unable to hear such a lie, you bend over and shut him up with a kiss. Wanting to end this dream-turned-nightmare, you begin to bounce furiously. Kyle begins to whine against your lips. His hands grip your bottom as he uses his legs to bounce up in you. You really wish he actually wanted you like this.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Kyle!” you scream in pleasure as your orgasm hits you. You slump against Kyle’s chest as your body tingles in pleasure. It’s short lived as the reality of the entire situation hits you like a bus.

Kyle caresses your back and whispers every sweet thing he’s been wanting to say for weeks. Right now, the only thing that mattered was making sure you feel cared for.

However, it seems like that’s the last thing you want as you suddenly climb off him and quickly hide under the covers. He calls out your name and asks you to come back. “Hey, come back. Let’s can cuddle for a bit and make sure it’s completely out of your sy—“

“No need. I feel better now. You can leave,” you rush out.

“Baby, c’mon, let m—“

You sit up and glare at Kyle with watery eyes. “I’m not your fucking baby,” you spit out, “And I’m not Ghost’s pretty thing. I’m not Soap’s mo ghraidh and I’m not Price’s sweetheart. I get it, okay? So stop pretending like you care and just leave. I’m fine now. You got the job done.” You lay back down with your back towards Kyle. His heart breaks as he catches the way your shoulders shake. Realizing that the damage was done, Kyle slowly gets up, gets dressed, and leaves.

— — —

Kyle winces as he’s greeted by the bright light of the hallway and the hopeful faces of teammates.

“How’d it go? Are they okay?” Johnny shoots up from his seat, eager for his fellow sergeant’s answer.

“They’ll live.” Johnny cheers as Price and Ghost physically relax.

But, their joy is short-lived as your sobs reach their ears. The four look at each other, all questing whether it was all worth it.

Word Count: 4350

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ryuzakemo128 · 1 day ago

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Naner video

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ryuzakemo128 · 1 day ago

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Is it okay to date someone who's 2 years younger than you?

Yes

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ryuzakemo128 · 1 day ago

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Ex-boyfriend

The block is back with a vengeance, writing a little bit of angst to try and break it. It kind ends weird, I think I'll make a smut follow up for this something along the lines of; 'let us fuck away the thought of your ex.'

Summary: Ghoap x reader. Neighbors to lovers??

CW: domestic abuse, violence, alcohol, description of injuries, angst, little hurt/comfort.

___

Another shouting match, another night listening to him plead through your front door. This time it’s different though. He hit you, it still doesn’t feel real, you can’t even remember what you were fighting about.

Your face throbs though, a sick reminder that in fact it did happen. You didn’t even flinch, when his fist crashed square into the side of your face.

“Please babe, it won’t happen again.” He calls. He’s right, it won’t happen again because you’re never going to see him again.

“Go away!” You shout through your sniffles. You didn’t want to cry, you didn’t want to look weak but you couldn’t help yourself. As soon as you saw him with his fist raised, the person you thought you loved, there was no stopping the tears.

You hear a door open in the hall. “Alright mate, maybe you should go. She clearly doesn’t want you bothering her.” You hear Johnny’s familiar Scottish accent fill the halls. Great now you’ve bothered your neighbours.

“Not really any of your business is it.” Your boyfriend snaps back. You put your head in your hands. This is all your fault, you don’t want to cause a scene, you just want him to leave.

“It is when you’re shouting in the hall while I'm tryin’ to relax.” Johnny replies. You need to stop this, this is your fault. You pull yourself up to your feet.

“Wouldn’t be in the hall if she would just let me in so we could talk.” Your boyfriend says banging on the door again. You look through the peephole, you see Johnny leaning in his doorway, your boyfriend is almost squaring up to him.

You let out a breath to compose yourself, quickly wipe your tears away and open the door. They both turn to look at you. Johnny straightens up and your boyfriend comes towards you but you step back.

“Go home. I’ll call you.” You say, your voice cracks. You feel the confidence you had slip away. You can’t tell if he’s angry or sad, you don’t care, you just want him gone.

“I’ll call you.” You repeat, anything to get him gone. He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t try to come in. He just lets out a sigh and turns to leave, shooting once last glare at Johnny on the way out. You let out a shaky breath looking over at Johnny.

“I’m sorry about the noise.” You say, you’re barely holding it together, you need to get back inside so you can throw yourself in bed and just cry. Johnny steps up to you with a concerned look on his face.

“Screw the noise, did he do that to ya lass?” He asks. You don’t know what to say, you open your mouth but words don’t come out, instead you just sob throwing your head in your hands again.

Arms wrap around you and he squeezes you against him. Johnny’s hugged you before, he’s a very friendly person. He would throw his arm around your shoulders and walk you back to your flat when you would both run into each other.

This hug is different though, maybe it’s the embarrassment making you over think things but this feels like a proper hug.

“Si!” He calls as he starts to rub your back with his hand, the sobbing is relentless now, it feels like you can’t get a breath of air.

“What?” You hear Simon say. Johnny breaks from the hug moving to the side and you look up at him standing in the doorway. You don’t see Simon as much but he’s always there. You remember when you moved in they helped carry boxes for you. Then they both bought you a homemade shepherd's pie and bottle of wine to welcome you to the building.

You watch as Simon’s jaw clenches he lets out a sigh then crosses his arms. You feel sick, embarrassed. You just want this night to be over. You hang your head sniffling and wiping the tears.

“How about a cup of tea?” Johnny asks his hand comes to your waist and you look up at him. You nod and he smiles guiding you back into your flat. You expect Johnny to go into the kitchen but he doesn’t he takes you over the sofa and Simon goes into the kitchen.

“What happened?” Johnny asks as you sit down, he sits next to you with his hand your back.

“We were fighting.” You sniffle feeling more tears come. You don’t try to stop them. Johnny pulls the box of tissues over and you take one.

“I can’t even remember what it was about. Something stupid.” You say blowing your nose.

“Has this ever happened before?” You look up at him and shake your head.

“I think maybe we had too much to drink.” You say trying to find some kind of reason. You look over at the dining room table, the half drunk bottle of wine and the half eaten food. You hear the kettle click and you look over at Simon in the kitchen.

“I’m sorry to have bothered you. I know it’s not the first time he’s been shouting in the hall.” You say, Johnny squeezes you tighter.

“Not a problem.” He says smiling. Simon comes over and places a mug down in front of you.

“Thank you. He’s not always like this.” You say looking up at Simon. He hums looking round the flat then comes to sit next to you. You keep your eyes on him as he looks round your face, his hand brushes your cheek. Even his soft touch has you gritting your teeth, it’s going to leave a nasty bruise.

“Johnny, go see if there’s any ice in the freezer. Or a bag of peas.” Simon says, dropping his hand. Johnny moves instantly, bouncing into the kitchen, you don’t have time to tell him you have no ice.

“Will mixed veg do?” He asks, sticking his head round through the door holding up the bag. It makes you smile, he smiles too when he sees you then goes back into the kitchen.

“Do you want to call the police?” Simon asks. You swallow, dread rises in you. You hadn’t even thought about that, you feel more tears come and you look over at your mug of tea.

“You don’t have to press charges, just get it on the record.” Johnny says as he comes back with the bag of veg wrapped in a tea towel. You look up at him, the last thing you want to do right now is talk to the police. You don’t get time to answer them though, the lock turning on the door makes your breath catch in your throat.

Shit, you forgot he has a key.

Simon stands up as the door opens and your boyfriend walks in. He freezes looking over at you for a second before scoffing and shaking his head.

“I fucking knew it.” He says. You can’t breathe, your whole body tenses. “Couldn’t even wait five fucking minutes.”

You stand up. “It’s not what you think.” You plead, the sob coming back. You feel Johnny’s hands on your shoulders.

“I always knew you were a fucking whore.” He snaps, there’s a slur in his voice.

“Hey!” Johnny calls, squeezing your shoulders. Simon tuts, turning to look at you both quickly then walks round the sofa. You can see a bottle of something in his hands. Where did he even get that from? He was always a mean drunk.

You always told yourself it was the alcohol though, it wasn’t really him. He would never be like that with you when he was sober. Until now.

“What do you want then?” Your boyfriend asks, throwing his arms out as Simon walks over to him. He looks tiny compared to Simon, his hulking figure almost blocks out your boyfriend.

Ex, ex-boyfriend.

“Let's have a chat, outside.” Simon says with a low tone, nodding at the door.

“Na mate.” Your ex says, moving to look around Simon and points at you. “How long huh? How long have you been fucking them?”

“I’m not.” You say, fresh tears blur your vision.

“I won’t ask again.” Simon says, moving back in front of your ex.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He snaps. You almost miss your ex swinging at Simon. A gasp leaves your throat as you watch him dodge it. A split second later Simon drives his fist into your ex’s stomach. He drops the bottle of liquor and you swear you can hear the air leaving his lungs as he grunts doubling over.

Simon grips his shoulders, almost carrying him out the flat and into the hall. “We’re going to have a quick chat.” It sounds like Simon’s growling. A second later the door slams closed. You turn to look at Johnny.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t think..” You slump back down on the sofa. Johnny reaches over, picking up the bag of veg wrapped in the tea towel. He presses it on your head and you wince, you takeover for him, replacing his hand with yours.

“He’s a mean drunk.” You say.

“He’s an arsehole.” Johnny says his hand lands on your thigh. You look over at him and smile. The door opens and you both look over to see Simon coming in. He walks over to the coffee table and puts down a set of keys. You stand up dropping the bag on the sofa and walk round the table over to him.

You wrap your arms around him, for a second it's like he’s not quite sure what to do. When his arms wrap around your back you let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you.” You say into his chest.

“It’s okay.” He says. You feel Johnny behind you, his hand landing on the small of your back. You break from the hug looking up at Simon.

“I’m sorry he tried to hit you.” You say. He smiles, you haven’t seen him smile much, he has a nice smile.

“Don’t worry, I've dealt with worse.” Simon says, his hand comes up to your cheek he brushes the tears away.

“Sit down, drink your tea.” He says, you nod sitting down on the sofa next to Johnny. His hand lands on your thigh, you reach over for the mug. It’s lukewarm at this point but you don’t care, you drink it down while your head throbs.

“Do you want one of us to stay the night?” Simon asks going over to the front door picking up the bottle of vodka.

“No, it’s okay.” You say, you don’t really want to be alone but you don’t want to come between them.

“I’ll stay.” Johnny says, Simon nods going into the kitchen.

“I don’t want to take you from Simon. I’ll be fine, honestly.” You say turning to look at him.

“Is that his only key?” Johnny asks, gesturing at the one on the table. You could so easily lie, you don’t want to be a bother. You shake your head.

“Then I'm staying.” He says pulling your chin up to look at him. Christ, he has nice eyes too, deep and blue, they make you think of the ocean.

“Thank you.” You say, you’re going to have to make it up to them at some point. Simon comes out into the living room and Johnny lets your chin go.

“You know where I’ll be if you need me.” He says heading for the door.

“What no kiss?” Johnny calls after him. He stops and walks back over Johnny who’s sat with a cheeky grin on his face. You evert your eyes when they kiss, it feels like you’re invading their privacy. Why are the hot ones always gay?

“You alright?” Simon asks you, you look up at him feeling the heat rushing to your cheeks.

“Yeah. Thank you again, for everything.” You say smiling at him. He nods and heads to the door. You watch him leave, listening as you hear their door open and close. You turn to Johnny who's now laid back on the sofa with his arm over the back.

"C'mon lass, I'm nice and warm," he says gesturing for you to lean up against him. You hesitate for a second then lay against him. He wraps his other arm round you and you let out a sigh.

"He's never gonna hurt you again." He says, you smile. No he won't, you never want to see him again.

____

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ryuzakemo128 · 1 day ago

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I love nothing more than having 1. An embroidery machine 2. Free will

Grab one here if you are also not immune to propaganda

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ryuzakemo128 · 2 days ago

Note

Ok- I’ve had this thought in my head off a long time where Michael is destroying the coochie he takes his mask off looks you in the eye lowers his head and spits on your �� like god I can imagine him pounding into me then letting spit drip onto the coochie I wanna get freaky with him

My guy... what have you done? You cannot expect me to not write something as hot as this.

Sigh... Cue in the Deftones music.

You've Seen The Butcher 18+ Drabble

WARNINGS/TAGS: Dark, rape/noncon elements, extremely dubious consent, explicit content, spit as lubricant, unprotected sex, size difference.

Your body jerked violently with every painful jab to your insides. A pitiful cry rang in the air when the masked man above you jackhammered away at your swollen pussy with his massive cock. The girth of him was too much for your tiny hole, your inner walls straining to accommodate a man of his size. The rough pace he set had you squirming away, hands pushing at his broad chest in a futile attempt to get him off you. Tears ran in streams down your face, realizing that not only could you not deter him from pounding away at your weak flesh, but that you had begun to mewl at his roughness.

It hurt so much, yet it felt so good.

"Please," you implored, " I-I can't!"

The grip on your hips turned bruising, the panting male pulling at you to clash with his pistoning hips. Harsh breathing could be heard underneath the mask, Michael gritting his teeth when your vaginal walls clenched tightly around him. The energy he was exerting into fucking you had him growling, his mask becoming unbearable and stuffy on his face as he continued to pummel you.

Feeling irritated at the way it clung to his skin, Michael stopped to remove his mask, a grunt leaving him when he pulled on his hair in the process. Tossing it to one side, he spread your legs once more, ready to drive inside your warm depths again. A little gasp left you, catching Michael's attention and making him look up at your stunned face.

His eyes widened momentarily, unease filling him at first with your wide eyes taking in every detail of his face. However, with a glance down your lovely shape, hunger took over and he narrowed his eyes at you. The perspiration on his temple traveled down his chiseled face, your eyes following the trail taking in his pointed nose and full lips along the way.

Never would you have thought that there was handsome face behind the monster that terrorized and killed people with no remorse.

"Wait, please." You placed a tentative hand on his chest. "It hurts when you... when it's i-inside." You couldn't look him in the eye when you whispered the last part, chills running through your body at his predatory stare shifting to your glistening lips.

Taking in your last words, Michael tilted his head down.

"Don't look at it!" A heavy blush rose in your cheeks. Removing his cock completely, your pussy was left gaping open, clenching around nothing but air. His gaze was fixated on your vulva, his chest heaving as he licked his lips at the shiny wet pussy bared in front of him. Then he did something that left you flabbergasted.

Michael accumulated enough saliva in his mouth before spitting it right on your entrance. The action made you shriek, the splash of the wet fluid taking you by surprise. Utter mortification filled you when you felt it slime its way down the crack on your ass.

As you struggled to come up with words, Michael dove right in, plunging his tongue deep in your snatch.

Grabbing on to his hair, you tugged at the strands to try stopping the onslaught of pleasure on your sensitive pussy. Breathless gasps left you, your chest heaving dramatically as you forgot to breathe when you felt his tongue wiggle inside you.

"No, no, n-nooo...!" Shaking your head in protest, you looked down at him, body jolting at the feral expression on his face. His eyes were entirely black, leaving no remnant of his eye color as he sucked harshly on your slit.

Closing your thighs around his head, you arched your back to escape his intrusive tongue. A nip to your clit was your only warning before strong hands grabbed your knees and yanked you open. Michael ignored your cry of pain, lapping up the mess between your legs before spitting directly into your pussy, a calloused finger coming up to plunge into your tight pussy. Stretching you in a come hither motion, Michael latched on to your throbbing little nub and sucked cruelly at it.

"You're... ah! You-ah! G-gonna make me-!" Arching your neck back, you saw stars when he forced you to cum with a crook of his finger.

And it wasn't going to be the last time he coaxed another one out of you tonight.

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ryuzakemo128 · 2 days ago

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Shhh!!!

Celebrity!Joel Miller / F Reader

A reluctant celebrity contractor who has closed his heart for love meets a celebrity-hating Cafe on Wheels owner...

She HATES him. Thing is, he couldn't get enough of the coffee she makes...

Tag List:

@kirsteng42 @peelieblue @harriedandharassed @joelalorian @vickie5446

Let me know if you would like to be added/removed from the tag list.

Dividers by the awesome @saradika

SERIES MASTER LIST

“Come on Joel! It’s not that big a deal! I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m 16!”

“No!”

“Why not? It’s not like I’m asking to get married or anything like that… Ew… even the thought makes me want to puke.”

“You’re still in school. I don’t want you to lose focus. You don’t need a job.”

“I just want to get some experience. And I wanna save up for a car.”

“I’ll buy you a car.”

“Yeah, good luck with that. What did Sarah do when you bought her one instead of letting her work for one?”

Joel sighed. He downed the rest of his coffee. Grimaced at the now cold coffee and went to get a refill – but the pot was cold now, too. “Damn it,” he grumbled. The fucking coffee maker was broken. Again.

“You know, you might be the richest man I know who still drinks coffee from a 20 year old machine you got as a birthday present. You know you can buy a new one for less than 100 bucks? You give me more weekly.”

Joel rolled his eyes. “It’s fine. I’ll just rewire it. Again.”

Ellie banged her head on the breakfast counter. “Quit being such a cheapskate, old man. How are you okay to buy me a car if you won’t spend less than 100 bucks on yourself?”

Ellie regretted her words before she could draw breath after that. She knew he was not a cheapskate, exactly. It wasn’t about the money. It was the coffee maker. What it symbolized.

His late wife had given it to him as a birthday present when Sarah was about one. She died in a car crash a week later. He was suddenly a widowed single father at 22.

He refused to replace that coffee maker, even though the coffee now came out burnt and ridiculously bitter. It had been rewired and fixed so many times neither Ellie nor Sarah wanted to touch the damned thing, worried they’d get shocked by it. Ellie swore she saw the lights flicker when Joel turned it on that morning.

But he didn’t react, just rolled his eyes at her, again, before picking up his keys and pushing her out the door, nowhere near fulfilled, coffee-wise.

Ellie wanted to shake the man who had been taking care of her since she turned 12. She had been Sarah’s mentee at the rec centre, and when her mother disappeared, Joel took her in, no questions asked. Her life took a 180 that day. He made sure she had everything she needed, got her into school, took interest in her progress, listened to her when she needed advice, even listened to her rants, albeit with a grumpy face.

She felt bad for him, he worked ‘til midnight yesterday. Shoot ran long. Ellie was sure he didn’t get home ‘til 2am. And now he’s already up to drive her to her summer art programme. She didn’t want to tell him about the programme at first, knowing it would take time out of his day to drive her back and forth. His schedule was bonkers to begin with. He’d done enough. So she got the bright idea of having a summer job. If she could buy a car, she could drive herself. There would be no need to trouble Joel anymore. Sarah drove her sometimes, but she wouldn’t be back from school for a couple more weeks.

Ellie and Sarah would talk sometimes, worried about Joel. He worked too hard. No social life to speak of, at least, not that they knew about. His life was the two of them, his brother Tommy and his work. They asked each other the last time they remembered him going out on a date, or even a vacation, for that matter, and neither could recall for sure. For a while, they thought he and Angela, his manager slash agent was a thing. But Tommy vehemently denied it, saying they were just business acquaintances. He changed the day his wife died, Tommy said. He became hardened. Stoic. Grumpy. To everyone save for Sarah, and now, Ellie. Not to worry, Tommy had told them, your father had people he could call if he felt… lonely, he said. Neither girls wanted to ask Tommy about their father’s social life, or lack thereof again after that.

Not that they were denying what Tommy suggested. It wasn’t as if he was short of interested parties. Being on a show as big as his and Tommy’s, he didn’t want for screaming ladies, something he was never interested in. He and Tommy started as contractors, renovating houses, their small company doing okay to support their small family, even in an expensive town like LA. They renovated a producer’s kitchen one day, and he offered them a contract as set builders for a show he was producing, and then the next, and then the next, and before they knew it, they had a show of their own, beginning with basic DIY stuff for a morning show, expanding to full on house renovations and builds. Tommy was the handsome, friendly, bubbly face of the show, and Joel the grumpy, reluctant contractor in the background. ‘Build with the Millers’ was a huge hit, and Joel Miller was the grumpy contractor that ladies and men alike swooned over.

Why exactly, neither Ellie nor Sarah understood. He was the same, scruffy man in his 40s that he was at home, just as he was on TV. No make up or overly styled hair for him. Apparently, after an incident involving a broken, aforementioned coffee machine and a late night taking care of a feverish Sarah, no make-up artist on set wanted to go near him again, lest they lose a few fingers trying. So he was on TV, face oily, scruff unkempt, hair unruly and all, dressed in whatever comfy shirt or flannel he managed to grab from his dresser that morning, and still the ladies swooned over him.

Fans approached him all the time, asking for pictures, often ignored. It became a thing at one point, people posting about their disappointing encounters with Joel Miller. He just walked past, hands around Sarah, shielding her face in case people took photos of her. He had relaxed a bit nowadays, but still wouldn’t entertain requests for photos, and still kept his arms around his girls when he noticed people whipping their phones out to take a picture. He left the glamourous part of the job to Tommy, much to Angela’s chagrin. He could make so much more, she had coaxed at one point. He didn’t need any more money than he already had, he said. So he left all the money making dalliances to Tommy.

Sarah once told Ellie that they lived in their old house for quite a while after the show took off, Joel only investing in a bigger place with a yard, only so that he could make sure Sarah’s privacy and safety was under control. He had woken up to a strange woman in his kitchen making breakfast for him and Sarah once and had to get a restraining order against her. He contacted a real estate agent that very day, and he slept better at night knowing that his daughters were safer behind the tall fences and a top notch security system.

Even though he himself was a simple man, he made sure his daughters want for nothing, as long as they remained humble. No designer anything for them. He still drove his beat up truck, so no Ferraris for the girls. He himself didn’t have the opportunity to go to college, so his girls were going, no matter what. That was why he was so against them having a job, he wanted them to focus. But what he didn’t realize was the girls looked up to him and lived by his example, wanting to work hard to enjoy their earnings more. When he bought Sarah a car instead of letting her get a job, she sold the brand new Prius he got her and gave the money to the rec centre she volunteered at, where she met Ellie. She got a job and got a second hand Mini instead.

And Ellie was determined to do the same.

She took out her phone and texted someone, glancing at her yawning adopted father as she did so. “So, can I get a job or not?”

“No.”

“Come on!!! Just for the summer. Not like I have school.”

“You have this class. This art thing. You begged me to get this tutor to teach you for the summer. Focus on that. I thought you wanted to go to art school.”

“Yeah, but we finish at noon. And they are prioritizing those going to colleges for volunteer work right now, so that’s out. What the hell am I supposed to do ‘til the next day? And I have to wait around for you to pick me up and you are not always on time, and you wouldn’t let me take an Uber.”

“So let me buy you a car.”

Ellie gave him the typical Miller girls’ combo of a side-eye and eye roll. “I guess the rec centre could use the money I will get from selling it.”

Joel stopped the truck at the rec centre, taking a deep, deep breath of frustration. He wanted to persist, but he could see he was fighting a lost battle. “Where exactly is this job you’re planning to get?”

Her face lit up, opening the door and jumping out, yelling at him to wait. She disappeared around the corner to the side of the building, coming back out not five minutes later, a massive cup of coffee in her hands. She presented it to him with both hands, complete with a curtsey, head bowed. “Coffee from my new work place, Your Majesty,” she said.

Joel rolled his eyes. If there was one thing he hated more than anything else in the world, it was pretentious fancy coffee, robbing people of their money. He didn’t take it.

“Come on, old man. You know you need this. Go on, I promise you it will be better than the ones you burn every morning.”

“How would you know that? You don’t even like coffee.”

“There’s a long line every day. Must be good. Plus, I need to help my new boss sell coffee now, don’t I?” she smirked.

Joel took yet another deep, impatient breath, took the coffee and had a sip.

Ellie watched as for a split second, his entire body relaxed, eyes closed, and breathing calmed. Just as quickly, though, he opened his eyes and sulked, placed the coffee in his cup holder and passed Ellie her back pack. “Pick you up around the usual time.” Ellie stepped back and waved Joel goodbye.

Huh. The man who swore coffee that didn’t come from his ancient coffee machine or the craft service of his show was crap just had a good reaction to that cup of coffee. Coffee that he would classify as ‘a modern fucking robbery’ just because they took some time to craft and cost more than a dollar. She walked back to the truck she had gotten the coffee from, taking the slotted tray with another cup of coffee and an iced tea placed on the sill.

“I guess I’ll see you after class then, Boss!” she semi shouted.

You dipped your head low to see her from your perch, winking at her, “Counting on it!” you called back, handing your next customer her usual cappuccino.

That first day, you made Ellie watch for an hour. She would mainly be taking the orders for you, handling the payments and cleaning the small fold out tables outside. You made sure she flipped through the booklet to make the teas and other drinks, the easier stuff. When she could stand to stay in the truck for longer than an hour without getting a headache from the smell of coffee, then maybe, just maybe, she could help you clean the machine.

You had taken over the truck from your stepmom Jenny, the woman you called Mom a couple of years before that. The woman had had enough of the glamorous city and decided to leave for her hometown, longing for a quieter life. The two of you started the moving café after your father passed a few years back, moving from one spot to another, going wherever the customers might be. Your father had owned a chain of cafés and sold them all when he decided to retire. You respected his wish to sell, but part of the reason you decided to open a moving café with Jenny was to have a connection with him. You worked for him most of your life, and making coffee made you feel closer to him. Apparently, he gave you a hollow ball with coffee beans inside as a rattle. His nickname for you was coffee related. This was what you loved doing.

Jenny did invite you to move with her, maybe start a business with her there, but you were in love then. So you stayed. Of course, the man you were so besotted with, the one who begged you to stay in LA with him rather than move with the woman who raised you decided that an opportunity to be with his dream actress was too good to pass up. He broke up with you over voicemail when she approached him at a party, drunk off his ass, all excited that she would even look at him. Last you heard, he lost his job as the manager at one of your Dad's old cafes for missing too much work to be with her on set and had become her personal assistant instead.

You went about your life, driving your little café around before deciding you couldn’t be bothered to do that anymore, and paid for a spot at the rec centre food truck centre. On your very first day there, two girls came running to your truck, the older one, Sarah, ordering the biggest iced latte you could offer, the younger one, Ellie, an iced tea, nose all scrunched up from the smell of coffee, which she apparently hated. And now she’s decided she was going to work for you. Go figure.

You didn’t really know much about her per se. You knew that Sarah’s father had adopted her, that he was a contractor, that she spent her evenings after school volunteering at the rec centre, just as Sarah did, and that she was taking personal tutoring from one of the art professors who volunteered at the centre during the summer. She spent her evenings at your truck while waiting for her dad, whom she only ever referred to as the old man to pick her up, yammering in your ears as you cleaned for the day, often running off with a quick see you tomorrow Lil over her shoulder when he called to let her know he had arrived.

You loved her company. To be frank, after Dave dumped you, your life consisted of work and sleeping, having to wake up super early to get the truck ready for business. You even open on the weekends, only taking every other Sundays off to spend some time with your Uncle Bill, Jenny’s only brother. That was it. You open and close at six every day, clean up, wash your truck on your way home, have a quick dinner, do some chores, read, and sleep. You tried to watch some TV at one point after Dave left, but his girlfriend Cleo’s face graced the homepage of your Netflix account, so you cancelled your subscription. You stopped your social media involvement, with the exception of the Insta page for your truck. Everything else would put you at risk seeing your ex with his glamourous sweetheart.

Ellie provided you entertainment, so to speak. She told you about the books she read, the movies she watched, the classes she took, and you found her excitement infectious, even if you had read and watched the movies she was talking about. She had a hard life before, not having the opportunity to enjoy the books and movies most people have at home, so her excitement in learning all these new things was something to celebrate. She started complaining about wanting a car, that her old man had offered to buy her one. But she wanted to get one on her own, just like her big sister. You suggested she get a job, just like you did back when you wanted one for yourself. Yeah, she had groaned, her old man wouldn’t let her get one. But she was going to talk at him until he gave in.

And gave in he did, apparently.

She was a hard worker, very friendly with the customers, cleaning as she went. But at the end of the day, she was exhausted, telling you she was going to sleep well that night. She helped you clean up before running off to use the bathroom.

Her phone started buzzing. ‘Old Man’ blinking on the screen. It went dark. And then buzzed again. After a few missed calls, a tired looking man in flannels came storming around the corner, panic written all over his face, eyes searching for someone amongst the parked trucks and the buzz of the people cleaning the area before dialling and placing the phone on his ear. Ellie’s phone buzzed again. It went dark as soon as the man took his phone away from his ears, dialling one more time.

Okay, it’s possible this was Ellie’s old man.

You walked up to him, the man walking in circles frantically looking for someone. You tapped him on his shoulder.

“Excuse me, sir, are you…”

He turned to look at you, an exasperated look on his face, “Look, lady, I’m in the middle of something, I don’t have time to take pictures right now, okay?”

Huh?

He saw your confusion, took a deep breath, “I’m looking for someone, so no, now is not a good time for pictures, okay?”

You stood there, still confused. The fuck was he talking about? What pictures?

“What?” he barked at you, annoyed that you couldn’t understand a few simple sentences.

Okay, you’re angry now.

“Well?”

“I was just going to ask, sir, if you are looking for Ellie,” you spat out. Slowly. Deliberately.

His expression changed. His stance shifted, his body language got softer. “Uh, yeah.”

“She’s in the bathroom,” you snarked, going to your truck to get her backpack and phone, shoving them both into his chest.

He finally saw the name on the truck. Wheely Coffee. That name was on his cup this morning. He closed his eyes, regret clear across his features. “Look, I’m sor…”

You slammed the door of your truck in his face, the door actually hitting his shoulder so hard he staggered backwards. You got in the driver’s seat and drove off, leaving him standing in the street, Ellie running out to meet him, confused as to what had just happened.

He looked at her, snapped out of his shock, handing her the back pack and phone.

Ellie didn’t take them, her arms crossed on her chest, staring at him with laser eyes.

“What the fuck did you do, Joel? What the fuck did you say to my boss?”

Part 2

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ryuzakemo128 · 2 days ago

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If not for Johnny, then for You ✿

Summary: Simon couldn't save Johnny, but maybe he can save you.

CW: ghoap, johnny x reader, hinted/eventual simon x reader, mahor character death (rip soap), kinda angsty but i spared yall the worst of it, this came to me in a dream (depressive episode)

AN: I know we like to pretend that mw3 doesn't exist but it leaves room for such good ghoap angst...

You're Johnny's bird, more than that, you're his wife. You kind of knew Ghost, but you were never close, and you suspect that's because he was in love with Johnny. Whenever you were around them, you could see it in his eyes, he looked at Johnny the same way you did. Because of that you never bothered getting close to Simon, especially because you had a feeling that somewhere deep down, your husband felt the very same. It's not that you didn't think he loved you, but he also loved Simon, He loved Simon first.

For that you resented Simon

But the feeling was mutual, Simon resented you too. He hated that you took away the only thing he had left to love, that you took his Johnny. Simon loved Johnny first, and he knew somewhere, at some point Johnny loved him to. It broke him to see you walk down the aisle, and it broke him even more to see Johnny's goofy grin.

It should have been him.

Neither of you really tried to get along, even with Johnny's pushing, and it stayed that was the entire time you were married to Johnny. There was a gap between you and Simon, one that you didn't have with the rest of the team. If anyone noticed, no one said anything. Simon's sure they could all suspect why.

But then Johnny died, taken too young, too quick, right in front of Simon. There was nothing he could do to save him, and when Johnny died, a part of Simon died too.

Simon never really liked you, but when he stood behind his Captain as he handed you Johnny's things, he never connected with you more. Your broken sobs, your knees collapsing under your weight, he knew how you felt, he'd felt it too. Only Simon was use to standing on his own, crawling out of graves and trudging on like nothing happened.

You weren't though, and in that moment it had never been more clear.

Simon remembered a conversation he had with Johnny, in the middle of a country he'd never heard of before, trapped in a shitty safe house, the one singular bed having cardboard for a mattress.

"Take care mah bird for me Simon."

"Nothin's gonna happen' to you Johnny."

"Maybe. But I still need ya' to promise me."

He remembers how he sighed, heavy, annoyed.

"I promise Johnny."

He wishes he could go back, take the bullet instead, but he can't. Even more so, he wishes he could go back on his promise, because facing you would mean facing a part of Johnny. You have his last name, a giant ring plastered on your finger, there's a part of Johnny in you, and that's something that will never go away.

But Simon can't, he can't break the promise he mad to the person he loves most. So he won't.

As much as it pains him, and maybe even you, Simon will take care of you.

Now if can't for Johnny, he will for you. He'll maim, and kill, and hunt, and hurt for you. He will crawl out of graves so he can come back to you.

If now not for Johnny, then for you.

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ryuzakemo128 · 2 days ago

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A Rose By Any Other Name...

Pairing: General Marcus Acacius x Blind! Albino! Female Reader

Content Warnings: Female Reader is disabled & Albino. Roman related slurs against disabled folks, and harsh treatment towards them, suicide mentioned. Open Ending. Angst without comfort.

Word Count: 739

Summary: You had to hide your disability from everyone. Including your sister’s husband, a powerful man in Rome, who didn't take kindly to any form of weakness.

You didn't know what to expect when you took over as head of the family after your parents died and your older sister was married off. You certainly didn't account for the fact that you'd face more prejudice and cruelty as a blind albino woman. Gods forbid they ever manage to hear the fact you are unmarried still. Not by choice, you just never got any suitors. Unlike your older sister who had many before marrying her current husband.

You had to hide your disability from everyone. Including your sister’s husband, a powerful man in Rome, who didn't take kindly to any form of weakness. “I am sure your visit is to your liking.” you remarked, feigning politeness, you continued to speak in feigned interest, “If you have any complaints about anything. Send them my way and I will deal with the issue in a timely manner.”

You were certain he was trying to find something to get even with you from some reason. Men like him were numerous and cold-hearted to their bitter ends. You expected him to protest like he had last time. You were sure that he would have some kind of snide comment to make, like he always did.

“I will have a servant guide you to your chambers, I am sure you are tired from your journey.” You remarked, fiddling with the jade stones in the gold-plated dish with moonstone imbedded into the edges beside you to keep your mind from idling completely.

Your sister’s husband looked at the dish, the jade stones were round, a sheen reflected from the surrounding candles. They were there to keep you calm, centred and homed in on the person talking to you. Mastered the art of masking how you really felt about others. About the words thrown your way consistently.

You waited for the insult because they were far too common for those with disabilities like yourself. He arrived unannounced, far too suspicious for your own liking. You loathed it when people arrive without writing to you first. You always considered it to be both rather rude and intrusive.

He was only here to get something out of it. You were certain of it. Only ever there to serve his own meagre and pathetic form of interest. You don’t have the time for men like him. Not with all your own duties keeping from caring about his existence to begin with.

‘What could he possibly want?’ you question as you bathed in moonlight in goat’s milk and lavender. You were certain he had something cruel planned for you, he always seemed to derive cruel sadistic joy from your misery.

You ignored him while stayed in the estate, you were sure to keep him out of important matters relating to the household and to make sure he was the one kept in the dark for once. You felt a sick and twisted joy with him floundering around. Something inside you felt at peace with all his flourishing. As the servants would serve him, with a façade, with so much joy that it was almost painful. It was a small victory, but it was something that kept you going.

As the days progressed. You were certain he would be gone by now. You lived in the countryside, and you have nothing of value or his notion of value in your estate. Thus, you decided it would be for the best. To give him the silent treatment he felt like he deserved. You were milk this kind of enjoyment for as long as you could.

Until he took the hint and finally leave.

The moon grew fuller each night he remained in your estate, in the guest chambers. If he injured one of the serving girls? You simply said, “You will pay for the medical services she needs. You will apologise and you will mean it.”

He complied, though not without a snarl that made you wonder if his teeth were as yellow as his soul. You felt his eyes on you often, a heavy weight that made you feel uncomfortable. You hoped that it was just your paranoia, but you knew it was more than that.

As you then continued to give him the long-awaited silent treatment. As you were weaving a linen cloth with the loom inside your atrium, you were thinking about killing yourself in front of him to show that he had no power over you.

Divider Credit: @cafekitsune

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