#simone the woman that you are i would do anything for you

[lostintransist]

Secrets Are For Grown Ups

I am demanding my smooches now.

@beloveds-embrace @cherrycosmos392 @mxtallymarks @love-kha1

CW: Asshole Simon and Johnny using you for sex instead of each other. Calling out someone else's name during sex. Pregnancy mentioned. Death of a spouse mentioned.

Simon slipped. Well. Simon slipped first. Johnny slipped up too. They ruined you, tugging you between them instead of reaching out for the other. You couldn’t fathom them caring. Even now.

If they cared about you they wouldn’t have touched you. You had been twenty-four and still so young. God, you were thirty now and still felt like you didn’t have a handle on life. Johnny had been twenty-nine and Simon thirty-three. Old enough to know better. At least to know better than you.

A series of coincidences led you to a one-year work visa and as an American transfer under the 141 task force. You handled paperwork mostly, and whatever didn’t involve paperwork meant dealing with your counterparts back in DC. You keep slightly funny hours to stay working on Washington time but that wasn’t unusual for anyone else who shared your building. The lights stayed at a low dim all day and night because three pm and three am felt a lot alike when rolling in off a job.

You were a nodding professional with Captain Price, Lieutenant Sanderson, and Sergeant Garrick. Sergeant MacTavish flirted with you. You accepted it with a wary eye and a cool confirmation of what he meant each time. Lieutenant Riley watched. He never spoke to you unless he needed something until the night in the bar. Six months had elapsed on your visa when Gaz, as he had asked you to call him, invited you to the bar with everyone. Seeing no reason to not say yes you had gone.

Off base and with a little buzz in your veins you let Johnny flirt. He insisted on his first name as he sidled up close to you halfway through your first drink. You’d always been wary of Johnny’s flirting. He’s attractive with all the muscles he maintains for work, the air of danger that lingers around him like cologne, and that barely visible scar near his lip. Problem is he knows it. Or at least he knows people react to him with pretty privilege. He makes you laugh. You don’t know why it surprises you, of course, he had to have a good sense of humor to deal with his job.

Lieutenant Riley was watching again. The prickling of your senses that tells you a predator is watching is what gave it away. Staying at the bar smiling at Johnny seemed safer until you had to pee. Passing your cup to the bartender with a quick ‘I’m done with this’ you excuse yourself from the bar and wend your way around the nearly touching tables to find the bathroom.

The narrow wood-paneled hallway had a single bulb shining down on you from a sconce high on the wall. Taking the time to dry your hands completely you pause when you see that the hallway has gone dark. Diffusing light from the main room reaches only so far into the darkness. Scanning you see nothing out of the ordinary and let the crack of light from the bathroom disappear as the door settles closed.

Running the tips of your fingers over the wall, the bumps telling the tales of so many decades of drunken bathroom trips, you touch something that is made of steel and flesh. Jumping back with a squeak you search with your gaze for anything.

“Why does Johnny like you?”

Riley. You let out the breath you had been holding. It’s Lieutenant Riley, not someone who would hurt you.

“You know sir I have no idea. Do you know?” You aimed your voice up.

“I might have an idea.” He surprises you with a touch to your neck. Trailing up to your jaw before dry lips brush against yours.

Stepping back you gave a startled exclamation.

“Ah…uh..Excuse me, Lieutenant, I think I need to go home.”

Skirting around him you flee like a hare that caught the sense of a hawk in the sky. When you retrieve your purse from the chair next to Johnny you find a beautiful woman draped across it talking him up.

“Sorry, I just need my bag,” you said drawing both of their attention to you.

“Ah, bonnie,” Johnny started sadly, “Heading out so soon?”

“Yeah um,” you scratch the back of your head, low near your hairline. “I need to head home.”

Standing he ignored the woman flirting with him entirely.

“Let me walk you home?” He steps too close to you but the body in a chair directly behind your ass keeps you from moving for more space.

Glancing to the storm brewing in the woman’s face you try and redirect him.

“I mean you looked like you were having such a good conversation I’m gonna go wait for a cab. Thank you for the offer though. I will see you at the office tomorrow.” With that you scooted past, unsure how you felt about the full body contact required.

Okay, well your lady bits knew exactly how they felt about it but you as a person? You were unsure. It felt like you had been dropped into a game that you didn’t know the rules of. It continued on like that, them pushing you and breaking your boundaries down one touch at a time until Simon pounded into you from behind in a supply closet. You crept closer to that temporary oblivion when Simon slipped.

A guttural moan washed over your back, Simon’s fingers tightening down on your hips.

“Johnny, oh Johnny!” He came then with Johnny’s name on his lips.

Any chance of an orgasm on your end dried up like a puddle on concrete in direct sun. Simon didn’t notice, pulling out and cleaning up the mess he had made of you before pulling you up and then your underwear. He gave your ass a light tap and planted a kiss at your temple before leaving you to the scent of cleaning supplies.

You worked the day in the eye of a storm. Mentally reaching out to touch your emotions you found only a torrent of fast-moving thoughts and feelings. You made it to your flat before the pressure of the eye wall faulted, crushing you under its weight. The next week you had a hard time eating, focusing, and doing anything outside of work really. Work had you hyper-vigilant always on watch for the spooky silent lieutenant that might try to pull you into a dark room. You didn’t think you could survive another encounter with Johnny’s name on his lips.

Oddly enough Johnny noticed the distress you seemed to be under and took to feeding you. He dropped off a snack at your desk every day and chatted with/at you until you ate it all before disappearing into the bowels of the building again. Three weeks after the Simon incident as you had taken to calling it in your head Johnny had pulled the same shit.

Flat on your back, knees nearly touching your ears he rammed into you. Pleasure crested for you as he could no longer hold on.

“Simon,” the breathy whisper betrayed him. He must have thought you to far gone in your orgasm to hear him.

They had to be fucking kidding you.

Would it hurt less if they were kidding you?

How the hell were you supposed to deal with this happening to you twice?

Johnny pulled out and flopped face down on his bed beside you.

Sitting up slowly you lay a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m gonna use the hall bathroom to go pee. I’ll probably be a minute.”

He grunts his acknowledgment and you set your exit strategy into action. Johnny knew you preferred to put your clothes back on for cuddles if you left the bed for any reason. Grabbing up all of your items you stepped from his bedroom hugging your clothes so tight the zipper of your jeans bit into the side of your breast. Peeing and washing your hands you dressed.

Stepping from the bathroom you called down the hall to Johnny.

“Do you have any cheese or nuts?”

“In the cabinet or the fridge,” came his return call.

Good. He wouldn’t think some odd sounds coming from this direction odd then. Tying your shoes on you open and shut a couple of cupboards and the fridge before rattling the dishes in the dishwasher grabbing your purse and leaving his flat.

Johnny didn’t come after you if he noticed your absence. Arriving home you noted the time. It was four pm on a Friday, Captain Price would still be at the office doing paperwork.

You called him as you started packing.

“Price.”

“Hi, Captain. I am just calling to let you know there has been a family emergency back home and I will be hopping on a plane tonight. I don’t know when this will be resolved. Can you send me any paperwork that I will need to complete so my work visa will close out as it should?”

“I’m sorry to hear about the family emergency, you let me know if you need anything. Your contract will run its course, including the agreed-upon pay, and conclude the day before your visa expires. The only thing you will need to worry about is talking to an accountant out here to figure out your share of taxes to be paid.”

Captain Price had always been like that with you, straightforward and honest. Unlike his men.

“That sounds reasonable and doable. If you have a recommendation of a firm I can reach out to that would be immensely helpful,” you stare at your shoe options, deciding which ones to leave behind since your bag was getting too full with the haphazard way you filled it.

“I don’t have one off the top of my head but I will ask around. Will this number still work?”

“No, this is a UK number that will probably stop working somewhere over the Atlantic. Can you send the info to my work email? I will be able to access that until my visa expires right?”

“That is correct. I will send it there. Safe travels and thank you for all of your hard work with us.”

“Of course, and thank you for being a good captain and a good man to work with.” You ended the call before he could think to question the sentence.

A call to the cab company came next. With the car ordered you left a voicemail for your landlord telling him the same information, family emergency feel free to rent the flat out now. It was a furnished option so nothing here that held an emotional attachment would fit in your suitcase.

The only thing you left behind was a framed photo of you standing with all the guys at a party face down on the table. Anything else you weren’t taking got bagged and sent to the bins.

You cried at the airport, and on the plane, and waiting for your sibling to come and save you from the airport. Telling someone that you had been coming would have been smart, but the only goal was to escape. When they arrived Ash gave you the biggest hug which started your crying all over again. You stayed with them and their partner as you tried to piece your life back together.

Taking the month you still received pay from England you walked the trails of the mountains you called home. They brought you so much peace, like hiding in the skirts of a trusted mother. When you reestablished care with your midwives you found out that your arm implant birth control needed changing, it was overdue. Standard procedure for a well-woman check included peeing in a cup.

“Are you aware that you are pregnant?”

The thin nurse midwife with wrinkles, a long dusty brown braid, and beaded necklaces ringing her neck looked at you from the computer. You must have gone white as a sheet because she reacted by having you lay on the floor, elevating your feet, and calling for assistance. Your uterus had been achy. That’s why you scheduled the appointment.

Pregnant? You weren’t nauseous or overly emotional, only a little tired and achy. This was nothing like being pregnant on TV.

Fuck. That meant Johnny or Simon had to be the father.

Did you even want to keep this pregnancy?

Another nurse with a kind face joined you and your nurse in the room, dragging in a portable ultrasound machine.

“Hi dear, this is a bit of standard procedure. There are a few reasons that a pregnancy test can pop positive. We want to rule out some of the harder-to-care-for options. Do you think we can help you stand and get on the bed?”

At your nod the nice nurses helped you to your feet and held on as you climbed onto the bed, laying back. They had you move your shirt and your pants and undies until the top of your pubes were visible. A grainy image appeared on the screen as the nurse glided the probe to and fro in the slimy gel.

“Alright, this here,” she pointed to a roundish object, “is your left ovary. That looks good. This will help me find your uterus.”

She slid down pressing slightly harder into you.

“Here is your uterus and there looks like one, two little embryos.” She pointed with her finger at each little dot.

“Twins?” you whisper, shocked and aghast.

“That’s what it looks like but things this early can change.” She slid the wand further, “Since we are here I am going to check out your right ovary as well and then we will get you cleaned up and discuss your options.”

The options included waiting, keeping, or a self-managed abortion which included a few prescriptions. They gave you a page of information for each option and sent you on your way with a follow-up appointment scheduled for a few weeks.

In shock, you called your best friend first. Larsen had become your best friend in the second grade and you two had stuck it out through thick and thin.

You told him everything. The entire story. No one else knew everything that had happened. Now Larsen did.

He offered to marry you.

You knew he was good for it. Larsen had never fallen in love, found the idea repulsive. The love you and he held for each other was deep and special, but not romantic. Marriage to Larsen would provide safety and stability, and the ability to change your name before Johnny or Simon could think to look for you. Even if you lost the pregnancy Larsen would be the best roommate and friend you could think of sharing this journey with.

“Yes, but let’s talk this over at dinner.”

The wedding had been a week later in front of a judge, with Ash as your witness and his mother as his.

Larsen never pressured you to make a decision about your pregnancy, simply talked through each option with you again and again until you decided you wanted to keep this gift. Simon and Johnny might have treated you as if they were evil but at least you stole something good from them in the process.

You had two boys growing inside you. To the growing delight of the specialty pregnancy team, you were a rare case of two separate fertilization babies. Distinct sacks and placentas meant two independent babies. Baby A was three weeks further in growth and development than baby B. This idea was confirmed when both boys arrived and looked nothing alike even covered in vernix.

Larsen had chuckled and chided the nurses in the halls for the odd looks you and the boys got. You had five amazing years with Larsen before he died of an aneurysm at work. He left you with a boatload of life insurance and two four-year-old boys who had just lost the only father they had ever known.

The boys knew Larsen didn’t help create them but they were so small it didn’t matter. He was their dad. The first thing you did after picking yourself up off the hospital chair was call and set up therapy for yourself and the boys. You would all need it.

Another two years passed, the boys started kindergarten and you started a cake decorating business from the house Larsen had bought you. You had paid it off with a portion of his death benefits. Everything was looking up. Despite the boys sometimes looking exactly like their genetic fathers, they were the most amazing thing in your life. Life was looking up until the house the bus stopped at went up for sale. Your neighbors mentioned an attractive-looking gay couple bought it and wouldn’t you know they had the best accents? One rang of rainy England and the other of Scotland. They were retired military and were excited for the change of pace this life would bring.

Nope, had to be a coincidence. Couldn’t be them. Why would they move to the States? Why your state of all places? No. Couldn’t be Simon and Johnny, you were still safe from their reach.

Except you weren’t.

They followed the boys home one day from the bus, shocked at seeing a child who looked so much like themselves. When you opened the door, royal icing dried to your cheek, you blanched and slammed the door shut slamming the deadbolt home.

The men that haunted your therapy sessions and the aches of your heart had found you. You and their boys.

Masterlist

[callsign-songbird]

(I was going back through some files on my laptop and found this old thing I wrote, No, I am not going to edit anything, so, Enjoy!)

Thinking about Simon. Thinking about the callouses on his hands, not just his fingertips. Thinking about the way his hands are so rough against your soft skin, massaging is and manipulating the soft flesh in malleable circles. the way he would pepper kisses along the surface and fan his soft breaths along your neck. this is a man who has lost everything and drug himself through hell by only his bootstraps to spit in the devils face, and paid the price for it. so to have something as beautiful, as decadent, as absolutely divine as you looking up at his with those big, wet eyes while the pumps his cock into you and pushes you to the point of overstimulation, whining and begging him to stop. he doesn't feel worthy. You are his goddess, his life, his love, the breath in his lungs, everything he lives and exists for. Price could tell the day he met you too.

Simon had always been utterly devoted to Price. After Simon accomplished his mission, Price was the one to pull him out of that lonely pit, dust him off, and offer the husk of a man a job doing what he did best. and from that day forward, that was what Simon was. A soldier. Not just any soldier, though. He was Price's soldier. Any order or request Price gave was carried out down to the letter. it didn't mind if Price was asking for a coffee, mentioned that he needed his boots shined, or even needed some *other* acts of service, Simon was always right there. And then there was you. One day, Simon came back from off-base with Price's coffee, and he faltered. It was tiny, miniscule even. Simon overlooked Price's comment about being parched. As small as it would be for anyone else, that was monumental for Simon. He started leaving base more, becoming more and more distracted. Then, one day, Simon comes to Price with a question that he doesn't know how to answer at first.

"Captain, how does one... Approach a woman with the intent of... a relationship?" Price about spit out his coffee, choking momentarily and disguising the action as a cough, but Simon knew. Simon always knew. Price gave the best advice he could, but he was utterly confounded as to where this development had come in. He watched Simon nod his head and head out of his office, large gloved hands stuffed in his pockets and brows knit up beneath his skull balaclava. Price really knew that he shouldn't be worried, Simon was nothing if not dedicated, committed, and diligent. But this was a big change, and Price momentarily worried for whatever pretty little thing had caught Simon's eye.

This was where Soap and Gaz came in. Troublemaking pair that the two of them were, and other than Price, Soap was the closest one to Simon on base. Whenever Simon craved dominance, he went to Price. Whenever Simon craved submission, he would take it from Soap. Not like he was complaining, no. The military was a bunch of guys getting real close and sweaty with each other, coming to rely on and depend on each other, and Soap had never been shy about what he had.

So imagine his surprise when Simon hasn't scruffed him, shoved his cock down Johnny's throat, or even shot him that warning glare in nearly a month now. He mutters under his breath and tosses back another glass of amber warmth, whining out about his relationship issues to Gaz. Gaz simply pats his back awkwardly while sipping on his own glass. "I dunno mate, maybe he's got a new girl." They both take one look at each other and burst out laughing so hard that their sides hurt, but that's all it takes to sew those seeds of doubt. Not like he *really* cares, no. Sure, the dominance is fun and keeps his high drive satisfied for the most part, but he's more worried for his friend than anything. Ghost never shared his life with anyone, so if it really was a girl, well, things could get complicated. Simon was like an animal, with a strict chain of command in his head. It went Price, him, Soap. He was Price's, and Soap was his. and he was fiercely protective of that hierarchy. But if it wasn't enough? If he was thinking of adding a little bird to the mix? Heaven forbid a civilian? Well, things might get complicated.

So that's how He, Gaz, and Price ended up following Simon off base one day. Though, Price only came to keep them out of trouble and out from under Simon's feet, much to Gaz's delight and Soap's chagrin. They tailed Simon from a safe distance, dressed in civilian clothes to avoid attention. They watched as he stepped into a shop and came out with a small plastic bag and- heaven forbid- Price had to harshly clap a hand over Soap's mouth to keep him from the boisterous laughter that threatened to spill out from the cage of callouses and chorded steel beneath flesh. Flowers. In Simon's other hand was a dainty bouquet of flowers. Pink roses, white lily's, baby's breath, and pink orchids. It was a nice arrangement, and for a moment, Price and Soap were on the cusp of jealousy, overridden only by sheer curiosity. Who the hell was it that had managed to enrapture the stoic and cold lieutenant like that?

They followed all the way to a small park, jaws nearly dropped ad the slight skip in Ghost's step. It was almost indiscernible to the untrained eye, but these men had spent years with Simon, grown accustomed to the three kinds of steps this man had. Cool and calculated, Hurried and determined when shit hits the fan, and enraged with quick and heavy footfalls. This was none of those. The way Simon bowed his head, his shoulders slightly hunched in, the soft almost nonexistent trembling in his hand that was unbecoming of a sniper.

Simon was *Nervous* they all realized.

Then they saw you, and none of them could understand. You were ok. Kind of average, not exactly a model but certainly not ugly. any one of them would shag you, if that meant anything. But the longer they watched, the more they came to understand. They way your cheeks flushed and your eyes lit up at the bouquet, a soft giggle leaving your lips. Simon's eyes squinted beneath his mask, the tell-tale sign of a smile leaving the three men breathless. This little thing had their Lieutenant wrapped around her little finger, and yet, she didn't seem to have any ill intent. you we're all soft smiles and sweet words. A bit of an odd duck from what the three could tell by tailing the two of you on your outing, but it only made you more endearing to them. What was more surprising though, was the Lieutenant.

None of them could comprehend the hold you had on him. With Simon, there always had to be something firm and ironclad. With Price, it was his dominance. With Soap, he was the firm one with strict rules and harsh punishments, And yet, this was none of that. He seemed to treat you so gently, as if you were the most precious aerogel and would shatter at the smallest bit of force. Simon's gruff voice was gentle when he spoke to you, the hand on the small of your back protective, yet soft. None of the men knew how to take it.

Then came the nail in the coffin. In front of a house, presumably yours, you turned to Simon, looking up at him through those long lashes of yours. Your hands slipped out of his and rested on his chest, palms flat against the fabric, slowly snaking up until your fingertip brushed under the hem of Simon's mask. Each man watched as the Lieutenant tensed, like a spring about to snap. What they didn't expect was for him to give you a single curt nod. Slowly and gently you worked the fabric of his mask up, caressing every inch of unearthed flesh with your fingertips as if it were a treasure you were unearthing. Eventually, Simon's mask rested over the bridge of his nose, your delicate hands cupping the sides of his face as if he were more precious than solid gold. Slowly the two of you leaned in, and the men were astounded to see their lieutenant drawn into a kiss more gentle and passionate than they thought him possible of.

The next week around base was unusually tense. Soap and Price sharing knowing glances in the hallway while Gaz didn't know how to comfort either of them. Oddly enough, though, Simon was beginning to return. It started slow. He stopped overlooking what price would say absentmindedly and the devotion returned, he would Scruff Soap again when he did something stupid or lipped off. Eventually, he was even back on his knees for price and forcing Soap back onto his. Why the change? No one understood. it's not like it was overnight either, no, this took nearly a year.

"Honeymoon phase must be up." Price surmised over a drink with Soap, eyeing Simon as he grabbed the next round from the bar. "Och, ya' don' think sir? Ya think Ghost would let somethin' like that happen?" Soap mused, his gaze focused on the same imposing figure. Then the little bell over the bar door Jingled, and they watched the Lieutenant's eyes melt in unprecedented warmth. A look they had only seen once before. Sure enough, there you were. Such a small nervous little thing, looking around like a lamb in the middle of a wolves den. in many ways, that's exactly what you were. From the moment that door opened, you were being eyed up by dozens of hungry soldiers, licking their chops and already standing to try their shot at you.

But no, Ghost would never allow that. Not his pretty little bird. His long strides made quick work of the distance between you, grabbing some poor private by the face and ripping him away from you. A hand snaked around your waist and pulled your flush against Simons chest. A soft squeak left your lips as Simon glared around the bar and placed his claim, walking you back to the bar where he could retrieve the round of drinks for the table and order one for you.

Simon brought the drinks and you back over to the table, sliding into the booth beside Johnny and gently guiding you to your rightful place in his mind, firmly on his lap. Your pretty face was so red, obviously embarrassed from the way you gave a small wave and bowed your head. like a scared little rabbit, they mused. "Thought I'd bring her 'round to meet you proper, so you don't have to stalk me 'gain." The Way he glanced between Price and Soap was impossible to miss, looking for their approval. Price took his time taking you in, every facet of your face, your demeanor, your actions. A satisfied nod immediately put Simon at ease, rolling his shoulders to relax them. Meanwhile, there was no questioning how Soap felt. You were so much prettier and sweeter up close, such a delicate little morsel. He had that look in his eye, that sparkle, that hunger. He had no issues trying to chat you up, encouraging you to drink your fill and call him 'Johnny'.

"This 's our pretty little thing." That simple line seemed to make everyone at the table pause, yourself included. Theirs? That meant? None of them should have been surprised, really. Simon clung tight to his hierarchy, and apparently you weren't going to break it, no, He had just nestled you in next to Johnny, under the category of 'his', maybe even below Johnny. "Our?" Your soft voice rang out as you looked over your shoulder at Simon, pulling an amused smirk to his lips beneath his mask. "Of course, love. Y're ours. You'll get used to it, lovie, don't you worry your pretty little head over it."

[gothamite-rambler]

I love these two together

Jason (yawning): God, I'm exhausted.

Rose (stretching her arms out): I am too. You know what would relax us?

Jason (rubbing his tired eyes): A nap?

Rose: No, you silly goose, sex.

Jason (surprised): What?

Rose: Yep! It always wakes me up for a few hours. You haven't seen how far I can go when I'm exhausted like this. My last boyfriend needed a full glass of water after going with me for an hour.

Jason leaned back on the couch as Rose rubbed the back of his neck.

Jason: Did I say nap? I meant big cups of coffee.

Rose: Right, to boost our energy. Then I go down on you, and you go down on me—

Jason (blushing): Um… I… you see— We can do that later, but... I sound like a weirdo, don’t I?

Jason coughed, covering his quivering lips. Rose giggled and kissed him on the cheek.

Rose (sweetly): I like that about you. If you're not fully up for that, I won’t pressure you, obviously. How about we watch Bridgerton? I've heard a lot of good things about it.

Jason sighed, holding his head down.

Jason: I keep telling you, I'm not as forward as you are about sex. In my past life, I was making bombs. Flirting and romance weren't exactly part of my education.

Rose: You were around the Ghuls. I imagine if they tried to teach you, it would be hilariously bad.

Jason (smirking): Pretty much.

Rose (resting her arm on the back of the couch): Yeah, if anything, you’re a Bridgerton romantic.

Jason (disagreeing): I'm no Simon Basset.

Rose shook her head, smiling, and passed Jason the remote.

Rose: I'm interested now, who do you think I'm like?

Jason: We'll have to see together, but for now I'll say Penelope, similar curves and beauty.

Rose (trailing her finger down the side of Jason's face): Charming as always. Perhaps we can use this as a warm-up for later.

Jason: You are such a frisky woman; I love it.

Rose shrugged, playfully swatting his arm as he navigated to Netflix.

[miss-vanta-likes-to-write]

Loyalties chapter 2🔞

Loyalties Masterlist

Simon was almost sure that hell had to be a one month long leave. His skin itches from not being able to rip and maim any targets. His nerves were jumping because he so desperately needed the structure that was base. He could count on training recruits, doing simulations, anything to exercise the testerone from his system. Before he took his leave he had requested another shot of suppressants and was promptly denied by the base doctor. Now that had irritated him to high hell. Didn't they know that his alpha, unless it was chemically sedated, would want to rip and run free, gnash and gnaw until it felt satisfied? It was suggested that he find relief in a barracks bunny, but the snarl that left his mouth told the doctor to shut up. In the end while it wasn't suppressants he was given, he was instead supplied with relaxants that while wouldn't chemically sedate him, it would keep his instincts calm. Simon could at least appreciate that he wouldn't cause issues or lose his carefully crafted control when he was released into the general public. After all, he was certain that Johnny wouldn't want to be bedridden because Simon tore his ass a literal new hole. He and the Scott , while often intimate, never had sex with Simon off of his suppressants. He didn't want to hurt him and couldn't trust himself to not accidentally knot the poor lad.

“Aye, ye okay Simon?”

Simon was brought out of his thoughts and into the present by Johnny. He only offered a grunt for a response and brought his pint to his mouth for another sip of his beer. The pub that they ended up in was the same one they were regulars at when they were in the city. It was always dimly lit, moderately loud, and always a bit more crowded than he liked and the cocktail of scents made his head hurt. But Klye and Johnny fancied the place and Price actually liked the food here, so he didn't complain about being dragged out by his pack mates.

“If you say so Lt.” Kyle shook his head, “Soap and I were thinking we could do a rage room tomorrow night, we heard some of the recruits talking about it.”

Johnny nodded his head, “yea, an hour to just fuck around an’ smash thing!”

Simon thought it was stupid, why pay for the fake experience when they were paid to actually fuck things up during missions? He didn't understand the novelty of it, because Price was agreeing, saying something about “it seems like a good idea.”

His nose twitches as he scents the air, a habit really of unconsciously searching for danger. But the scent of something sweet cuts through the other smells of salt, beer, musk from other alphas. It was pleasing, made his teeth ache in a way it hadn't ached since he met Johnny. His eyes scan the pub looking for even a hint at what it could be. Whatever it was, had caught the eye of several other alphas and a few betas in the pub, both male and female. The hostess, a slip of a thing, had walked by and following after her were three women, all of them omegas. They were talking to each other, and he recognized from how they carried themselves and the accent and the chosen words of referring to the place as a hole in the wall bar, that they were American. All of them had pretty brown skin and two of them were holding hands, while the third followed behind them. If the walkway was wider, he had no doubt that they all would be side by side holding hands and laughing.

The hostess had shown them to the booth that was right next to theirs and Simon watched as Kyle and Johnny caught a whiff of the women. Johnny, was sitting with his back towards the group of omegas, it was adorable how he tried his best to not turn around and gawk at them. His eyes had caught sight of them, but he so desperately wanted to scent the third woman who had walked past their table. John and Simon were seated facing the booth that the women were at, and for the first time in history, he swore he saw his captain’s nostrils actually flare. He wasn't normally the type to scent places openly, he was the type to do so discreetly by just simply breathing, but this was clearly a deep breath.

“Symphony, are you sure Malik and Aaron are gonna be able to find this place?” The woman who had burnt orange hair asked. She was one of the ones that walked in holding the woman with black hair that was cut into a bob by the hand.

“Gloria girl, if they can't follow Google maps, then they should have gotten off work earlier.”

A waitress had come up to the booth, smiled and asked the women what she could start them with. The ones named Symphony and Gloria both looked at the third woman who had her eyes trained on her phone. Simon was watching her closely even as his pack mates continued to chat about the rage room. But it was clear that all four of them were listening, zeroing in on the table of omegas.

“Bambi, the waitress asked you a question.” Symphony had prodded who was clearly the lead in their group.

Bambi. What a sweet and shy name. Simon kept his eyes on her and took her in. Her pretty brown hair faded to a honey blonde, and when she looked up, Simon was greeted with the lightest brown eyes he had ever seen. Her lips were shiny, gloss probably, eyes lined in deep black eyeliner that swooped up and lids painted in a light shiny pink. American omega girls really did things differently, because coming to a regular pub so dressed up seemed overkill.

“We're starting off with tequila shots, two for us each. And we insist that you bring us something good that you recommend.” Bambi's voice was smooth and sweet but also commanded the listener to pay rapt attention.

The waitress, a beta, shivered and wrote down the order. “We have some of the best fish and chips around if you ladies want to try that!”

Bambi looked at her two companions and they nodded along. “Yeah, whatever works, and after our shots the fruitiest drinks on the menu.”

“Are you ladies celebrating something fun tonight?” The waitress asked, she was planning to upsell them.

They all laughed and Bambi nodded her head, “It's my birthday, I just turned twenty-six and me and my pack mates are gonna do a bar crawl. This is our first stop.”

Johnny grinned when he heard that. It was an in to speak to the nice smelling omega in the booth next to them. Who would turn down free shots ordered by handsome men? The waitress wished Bambi a happy birthday and when she went to put the order in Johnny stopped her.

“Aye lassie, the birthday girl, ya send her and her mates another round of shots from us yea?”

The waitress raised an eyebrow and smirked. She was well aware that the table with the foreigners was about to have drinks sent to them left and right from alphas trying for their attention. And she was about to get tips because of it. “Sure thing hun.” And she went to put the orders in.

Johnny looked at Simon, who still hadn't stopped staring at the booth behind them. So badly he wished he sat next to him instead of across because all he could do was smell the sweet scent coming from those women. Underneath it though, he could scent (and Johnny was sure everyone could scent this), the musk of an alpha. Two of those women were off limits and he prayed it wasn't the one that was wearing what had to be the world's shortest pink dress and a cute little sash that says birthday girl.

“Here are your shots,” the waitress had come back with the nine shots of tequila, “your other drinks are being made now.”

“We only ordered six in total.” Symphony had an edge to her voice.

“Oh the gentlemen behind you sent the extra, for the birthday girl.” She explained.

Johnny pulled a few notes out to slip to the waitress as she walked by. All four of them gave the waitress a knowing look, no other drinks were to be sent to that table unless it was them sending it. The woman of the hour laughed and finally looked directly at Simon and her gorgeous brown eyes slid over to Price.

“Symphony, switch places with me.” Bambi stood up and the woman with the burnt orange hair got up and traded places with her. The two of them traded spots, and Simon and John watched as the girls cheered.

“To twenty-six years and counting! Bless me and bless the shots!” Bambi then downed the shots, three of them back to back. When she was done she turned in her seat and leaned between Johnny and Kyle. She folded her arms across the back of the booth.

Kyle, who had been busy talking, stopped abruptly and turned slightly. “Good evenin’ lass”

“Which one of you darling men sent me and my sisters the extra shots?” She smiled and her eyes were half lidded. With her this close up they could now discern that the musk that accompanied a claimed omega was absent on her.

“From us all yea.” Johnny smiled, “Names Johnny, that's Kyle, John and Simon.” He was all bright and friendly. Simon knew that his boy was going to try his damndest to fuck her this evening (if they were all lucky they would all get a turn, even if that would be a bad idea). He could scent the underlying hint of arousal from him.

“Aw thank you, I'm Bambi.”

“Like the deer?” Johnny teased.

“Maybe,” she batted her eyelashes at him, “but I've been told it's a variant of Bambina. But either way it's a name that sounds good being said when a person cums.”

The sweet voice didn't match the dirty words at all. Johnny's smile widened and Kyle turned to face the girl completely. John cleared his throat, unable to believe she had said that out loud (he was a traditional alpha, and often thought that while omegas garnered respect, they were supposed to be sweet and shy. Bambi was clearly not that.)

Simon however wished he hadn't put his surgical mask back on because he wanted a stronger hit of the arousal that wafted from Johnny, Kyle and Bambi.

“Aren't ye a tease.” Johnny laughed, “how long ye be in England for?”

“Hmm, we're immigrants, following my brother here for work.” She answered carefully.

She was hinting that she was not claimed and the pack she was in was headed by family. She looked at John and smiled. “Love the facial hair set up, it's a very unique and handsome look.”

“Thank you sweetie. I hope you're going to be safe this evening.” John smiled as he brought his mug to his lips.

“I'll be safe.” She watched his neck closely as his adam's apple bobbed while he drank his beer. Smart girl, she already figured out who the alpha of this pack was despite them all having that as a second gender. She licked her lips as she kept eye contact with John and then slowly those brown eyes landed on Simon.

It's rare that Simon feels unrestrained lust at the drop of a pin, but when she looked at him his alpha wanted to desperately growl and find a way to claim her. There was electricity between the five of them and Simon for a second was glad he had the relaxants to help him reel in his instincts (if he had suppressants he wouldn't be able to experience this and all of the full context of this encounter. He's glad he didn't get a suppressant shot). He kept her gaze and nodded his head only once in acknowledgement. She smiled sweetly, pleased at him.

“Bambi, Malik said that he is lost!” The tension was effectively cut as Symphony got her sister’s attention. “The dummy said he can't find the damn bar!”

Bambi rolled her eyes and looked over her shoulder, “Did you drop a location pin?”

“I did, but you know he's with Aaron and that damn Aaron is probably leading the way.” Symphony sighed. “He wants one of us to wait outside for them.”

Bambi sighed and slid from her booth. “I'll go outside, you two sit tight and pretty.” She then looked back at John with a sly smile on her face.

John already had one of his infinite cigars out and standing to follow after her. Johnny had a shit eating grin on his face and so did Kyle. Simon was mulling over quietly if he was going to even try to fuck the omega with his pack mates. And boy was that a fucking thought, he declined a barrack bunny, but a nice smelling omega that he just barely met, was where he was willing to cross the line?

There was the sound of a throat clearing and Gloria was looking at the three of them. She raised an eyebrow and smirked, “I hope you fellas don't think Bambi is gonna give it up right away.”

Johnny frowned, deciding to play dumb, “Nae ‘ure what ye are talkin’ bout.”

“Bambi likes to flirt and tease, and you buying us those shots puts you all on her radar.” She chuckled, “if she likes whatever your alpha says to her, then I'm sure you'll all have her number and be in a group chat before the night is over.”

“Does she act like this often?" Kyle asked.

“Hmm, no.” She looked at Symphony, “Sym, when was the last time Bambi even showed intrigue in another alpha?”

“Two years ago I think, and that ended because the alpha didn't like the idea of her calling the shots and at the same time demanded and tried to force her submission.” Symphony shook her head, her eyes still trained on her phone, “I'll be straight up honest, if you just want to get your knots wet be upfront with her. Can't promise she'll go for that though.”

Outside Bambi took in a breath of the early night air. Inside the bar it was suffocating with so many scents, but outside was where she could finally get a clear smell of one of the alphas that caught her attention. John seemed older than what she normally went for. His beard was the first thing she noticed, she was a sucker for facial hair. The smoky scent of his cigar paired with the natural woodsy fresh air that came from him, made her stomach flutter. She leaned against the side of the building and watched as he lit his cigar and took a slow drag from it. He was tall, not as bulky as the one in the black hoodie and black surgical mask. But his muscles were defined. Actually all of them were quite larger than average, not in a body builder way but in a kept physically fit way.

“Who exactly got lost?” He asked her as he exhaled the smoke in rings.

‘What a show off.’ Bambi smiled to herself.

“My older brothers are lost.” She giggled, “they wouldn't be able to find their way out of a paper bag.”

He chuckled and nodded his head, “how are you liking it here so far?”

“I like it alot actually. My folks used to vacation here during the summer and anytime my father needed to check on his business here. You ever heard of Temple Ballistics and Weaponry?”

John looked at her with a raised brow and nodded his head, “I have sweet heart.”

“Yeah, my brother is the CEO and we moved here for his work.” She shrugged her shoulders and shuffled closer to him. She very obviously took a deep breath and stared up at him.

John took a deep breath as well, enjoying the sweet scent of her. She obviously was going to be trouble and knew it. Personally in the past he went for the more demure and shy omegas but something about her scent and flirty personality drew him in. He supposed it was multiple layers of cultural differences that he was already starting to like. He knew American omegas in general were more open and forward, African American omegas from what he heard tended to take charge and demand that their submission be earned. She was not going to just roll over and let him and his pack claim her, not without them asserting dominance.

“What do you do for work?” Bambi asked, “I actually work as a public relations specialist.”

“You do PR?”

“Yes, my other brother and a few of his friends need my services. But I mostly do freelance.”

“I'm in the military. Can't say much more than that.” John smiled down at her.

“Hmm,” she leaned up off the wall and faced him completely. She was sizing him up, her gaze drifting down to his chest and then right before she got to his waist, those brown eyes were back on his. “You don't sit behind a desk do you?”

“Not often, no.” John thought she was a smart girl. And observant to boot. He finally took in her full body, she was thick like most omegas, her thighs looked soft and jiggly. She had a slight stomach pooch that was just barely noticeable in the short pale pink dress she wore. Her legs were bare and seemed to go on forever due to her matching pink platform pumps. Nothing about her was traditional, but John knew he was willing to overlook that. He was willing to do that because she was a deviation from the norm that he has experienced. That and the fact that she was sending his alpha howling, it made his blood run hot and he needed to know why. Why was she different?

“And I suspect the other three are what both your pack mates and subordinates?”

Another drag of his cigar and slow exhale, “How do you figure that?”

“You military men are all the same. You form packs based on rank and relationships built through training and battle.” She nodded her head like it was the most obvious thing ever.

“Do you know anyone in the military?” He asked.

“No, but my brother does and I've heard stories from him, especially when he talks about the contracts he's allowed to complain about.” She laughed.

“You're a smart girl.” John was surprised when she preened from his compliment, the soft trill of a purr made him lean in closer to her. He was gently invading her space, backing her up to the wall again. Trying to subtly test the waters. His alpha was scratching at the back of his mind, quietly pleased by her response to him.

“I know I am John.” She placed a dainty manicured hand against his chest. Gripping his shirt and pulling him forward and closer. She wanted him to invade her space, blocking her from the view of people passing by them.

“You are certainly going to be trouble aren't you?” He whispered as he leaned in closer to her. She tilted her head up, but was careful not to lean over and expose her scent gland too much. Bambi, he realizes, will not be offering that to him unless he and his boys worked for it.

“Maybe I can be trouble for you and your pack.” Bambi was doing her best to suppress the shiver from John being so close. There were not very many alphas that she was attracted to, but when passed by his table she knew she had to at least try. She blamed it on the fact that her mother and father's and her uncle's dynamics set the bar high. And seeing how her brothers treated Gloria and Symphony over the past years made her want the same thing. But most alphas, be they men or women, always fell short of her expectations. John and his group looked like they may be able to successfully earn her submission and understand that she would not just be rolling the fuck over. They seemed strong, disciplined and they all probably worked well together.

John placed his free hand on her cheek and then slowly slid it down to just straight up hold her neck. He didn't apply pressure, just held her, just to feel her pulse quicken. His alpha was screaming at him to just mark her, pleased that she was even letting him do this. It's never acted up like this before. He glanced down at her lips and then back at her eyes. “What exactly is your scent Bambi?”

“I've been told I smell like cocoa butter with a hint of vanilla.” She whispered as she stared up at him with doe-like eyes.

Fuck he wanted to kiss her and then press his nose against her neck.

“BamBam we found you!”

Bambi snapped her head to the right and pushed John away from her gently. Coming down the sidewalk, finally were her three brothers instead of two. She scowled at the fact that they ruined her moment with John. Actually, why were all three of her brothers here? She was only expecting two. John took a respectful couple of steps away from her and breathed in deep. The cool air around them both smelt slightly of arousal and he was sure the three men approaching them could smell it too.

“BamBam, just for the record, we would have been here sooner if it wasn't for Aaron.” The young man who had shoulder length dreads smiled and scratched the back of his head.

“Way to throw me under the bus Malik.” The other young man who was tall but slender punched Malik in the arm. “If we didn't take a detour to grab Xavier even though he said he didn't want to come, we would have been here earlier.”

The last one, who was wearing a black balaclava (there was a heart and a flower stitched on the right cheek of the fabric), was staring directly at John. He didn't look too happy about what they all stumbled on. Out of the three alphas, he was the only one that was somewhat bulked up. They were all quite tall but the two that were arguing were lithe in their build.

“For fucks sake.” Bambi sighed and their petty arguing stopped, “get your asses inside, I'll be there in a moment and we can get the night going.”

Malik and Aaron, John assumed both looked at Bambi and muttered fine. They gave John a once over but did not say anything and just went inside. The only one not moving was the one in the balaclava. He slowly looked towards Bambi, a low rumble of a growl could be heard. It made his back straighten and John put out his cigar, but before he could say anything to diffuse the situation Bambi spoke up.

“Xavier, glad to have you but I really don't need an opinion.” Bambi was no longer the sweet and flirty woman from even five minutes ago. She was commanding the alphas in her pack. Xavier huffed, shoved his hands into his pant pockets and meandered inside.

John found it to be a strange dynamic. He wasn't sure how his boys would handle a bossy little omega. He could imagine Soap would lean into it seeing as how he came from a family of women. Maybe his Kyle would tolerate it. But Simon and him would want her to know who was in charge at all times. Then again, siblings in a pack wouldn't need to earn or give submission and dynamics looked different in packs where the parents weren't around.

“Sorry about them, they don't know how to mind their manners or business.” She turned her sweet smile back at him. “Can I have your number John?” Once again she batted her eyelashes up at him and he found himself helpless to say anything other than yes.

So they exchanged numbers, he watched as she put a cute pink heart next to his name. “If this is the type of pack that I think it is, share my number with the rest of them.”

“Will do Miss Bambi.”

She leaned up and kissed his cheek before she went back into the pub. John immediately sent the contact information to the group chat and right after made a group chat with the five of them.

[devereaux]

SIMONE KESSELL as FAITH COOPER (part 1 of ? because i have no self-control) My Life Is Murder | 3.10 - Killer Fashion

[mashmouths]

so i started this show and it just gets worse and worseeeee not only did it lift the romance subplot directly from twilight (and not well) but they also are trying to play the forbidden love angle hard in the fantasy racism vein except it's a "cross-species" relationship between the two whitest people i've ever seen in my life and there are three people of color in the whole (first season of the) show who aren't villains and it seems that every other episode (and sometimes ebery episode and sometimes twice an episode!) there is a man physically or magically subjugating a woman and i keep waiting for the big reveal at the end to be stolen from fucking rainbow rowell

[zvdvdlvr]

imagine ur bd being out of the picture and your little girl running up to si ☹️🤍

   “Daddy!”

   Simon looked down, eyes wide at the little girl wrapped around his right leg. Johnny eyed him carefully. He was thankful none of the other café patrons paid any mind. “I’m not your daddy, love,” Simon said. He tugged his leg away gently but the strength of a child is hard to match.

     “Annalise, get off that man,” a woman cried. In the blink of an eye, she knelt near Simon’s leg and tugged the child away.

     “Dada!” She shrieked. Annalise’s chubby hands reached out for Simon’s. “Is dada, mama!”

     You shook your head. “I- I’m so sorry, sir. Her dad was in the military. Anna thinks everyone in fatigues is dada… Do you want me to get either of you a coffee to pay you back? I’m truly sorry.”

     Soap discreetly elbowed Simon harshly in the side. “‘M quite alrigh’ lass. Simon, here, would take a coffee if your serious. If you’ll excuse me, I got to go. Bye, little lassie,” the Scot rushed, face lightinf up at the way Annalise giggled as his parting.

     Annalise was still cooing and reaching for Simon. You just shifted her on your hip and rubbed her back. “Simon, yeah?”

     “That’s me, ma’am,” Simon nodded, feeling suddenly extremely exposed without the balaclava he had decided not to wear for one single occasion. “You don’t have to pay me back-“

     “Nonsense. I would feel like a bad person if I just let my kid latch herself onto your left and call you dad and then just swoop her up and leave,” you said, reaching for your wallet before walking over to the ordering counter. “What can I get you?”

     Simon ordered a small of his usual, watching you pull the money from your wallet without glancing at how much it costed. He observed you in that split second- a beautiful baby girl on your hip who thought any man in camo was her dad. So he had been in the service… Simon watched you smile kindly at the teen behind the counter who fumbled for your change. You murmured a quiet, “It’s quite alright, take your time.” A well-mannered, well put-together individual who was also very attractive. Simon knew what Johnny was doing when he left and Simon would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought you were a catch.

     “I seriously appreciate the coffee, ma’am, but it was unnecessary,” Simon said as you tucked your change back and waited for the drink. “As long as the kid’s alrigh’, I don’t need anything in return.”

     You smiled. You smiled at Simon and he swore his cold heart jumped in his chest. Clearly your bright smile disarmed Annalise as much as Simon because she let out a bubbly laugh and put her hands on your cheek. “What if I said I wanted to?” You asked coyly.

     Simon watched Annalise play with a baby hair near your face. “Then I’d say it’d be a cruel thing to tell a gorgeous woman no.”

[certifiedyapperx]

imagine you’re dating ghost and no one knows. the two of you have kept it a secret on your end and his just for your protection— because ghost knows what could happen if someone finds out, how someone might try and target you to get to him, or worse, given his line of work.

but then imagine that he’s on a mission, interrogating some piece of filth ready to decorate the fucking wall with his brain matter when the guy says “you know what, simon, killing me would be the biggest mistake of your life.”

immediately ghost would pause, eyes narrowed, though his hardened demeanour wouldn’t fade much, he’d just blankly stare at the prick like “oh yea? n’ why don’ you tell m’ why.”

the shit-eating grin that would crawl across that fuckers lips would have ghost ready to kill him right then and there, but then he’d say “reach in my pocket. pull out my phone.”

id like to think ghost would have absolutely none of this assholes bullshit, not at all entertained by his theatrics. i’d like to think he’d just press the muzzle of his gun to the fuckers temple within an instant, all teeth barred and ready to get it over with when the guy would add,

“your girlfriend is a fucking beauty, isn’t she?”

everything would pause. ghost, time, the world, air, the universe itself—the life that would drain from ghosts face would almost be enough to make his alias a reality. his heart pounding in his throat, his fingers fucking trembling as he immediately reached into the assholes pocket to find his phone—a picture of a woman tied up (face not in view however) lighting up on the home screen. there’d be no thinking rationally, no thoughts in ghosts head except for making sure you were fucking okay. he’d do whatever he’d have to do, kill the guy, leave him strapped there, whatever—he’d be out of that room in two seconds flat and personally flying the helicopter back to your house calling you nonstop every fucking second until you answered.

“hello? si?”

he’d wait a second before answering. taking everything in. background noises, the inflection of your voice. it sounds calm, maybe too calm? he’s grasping his phone so fucking hard it’s a miracle it hasn’t shattered between his fingers.

“princess,” he breathes, fighting with everything in him to keep his voice steady. “see any birds today?”

though it was a genuine question, it also was an established one. ghost had set up a series of questions for a situation precisely like this. if you said blue jay, it meant you were fine, at home, as usual. if you said crows, it meant you weren’t.

“oh just the usual blue jays, si.” he could almost hear the smile on your lips. “everything okay? i miss you.”

ghost would exhale a shattered breath. “i’m coming home.”

and then he’d show up, not all but a few hours later, hands still trembling slightly, heart rate still struggling to regulate. it was too much, reminding him too much of his past traumas, he knew he needed to find better protection for you, but that was a conversation for another time.

he’d come in the house, barely even taking the time to shut the door behind him, almost frenzied again, relentless, unable to relax until he could finally lay eyes on you. and then, the second he did, he’d just pause and look at you, all messy hair and pyjamas still on, in the kitchen cooking breakfast for you both since you knew he was on his way.

and he wouldn’t say a goddamn word, he’d just come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist, hugging you so tight you’d hardly be able to breathe, his face buried in your hair and his heart thumping at your back. you’d feel the pain the fear the anxiety radiating off him and you wouldn’t try to say anything because you knew he needed this, you knew he needed to see you, hold you, feel your pulse stable and alive. you knew he just needed a moment to breathe.

and so the two of you would stand there like that for a while, and then he’d take a big inhale and spin you around to face him, pulling up his mask to plant soft kisses on your jaw.

“i love you so fuckin’ much.”

[kissitbttr]

flashing simon your titties in the middle of an argument

it’s the fourth time this week and he’s pretty much getting sick of your attitude.

whether it’s about the messy drawers, forgotten keys, not getting your fresh strawberries from the market and now, it’s about the new female recruit that seems to be enjoying flirting with your boyfriend and him not doing anything about it. of course you’re pissed! you’re allowed to.

“sweetheart” simon huffs out a sigh of annoyance, rubbing his hands all over his tired face. “for the fifth time… i wasn’t flirting with her”

a scoff escape your mouth. cocking one eyebrow while your arms are crossed over your chest. “i didn’t say you were. i said that bitch had her hands all over you and you didn’t do anything! she was batting her fake ass lashes at you too. jesus, her ass should got beat for that”

the sight of you getting pretty heated almost turned him on. almost. sure, you’re hot when you’re angry and usually he’d fuck you dumb to get that out of your system but this time? he’s far too exhausted.

“fuckin’ hell” he shakes his head in disbelief. “you know that’s not what happened. we were just talking.”

“i know what i saw-“

“don’t give me that!” simon exclaims, pointing his finger at you as he watches you give him a look of ‘oh you did not just do that’. “we were basically just talking, she was the new recruit. asking me about pointers.. and it was at the gala! what did you expect me to do?!”

you shrug casually, leaning against the kitchen counter. “poke her eyes with a fork”

“my god-“ he has to cut himself off before releasing a heavy sigh. eyes shutting briefly, head tilts to the back as he silently prays to whoever up there to give him enough strength to deal with you. “that would be illegal.”

“for you, maybe. i’d do it if you weren’t in my way.”

“that’s crazy” he answers, earning a look from you. “i didn’t say you are crazy! christ, woman!”

rolling your eyes, you huff. maybe you are overreacting but the thing is? you don’t want him to win. because in your head, you’re always right.

“so, what? you’re just going to let other female recruits feel you up too, huh? grab your biceps, twirl their hair when they look at you or maybe hey! you’d let them grab your dick too.”

“you’re unbelievable”

“me?! you are—“

“no! okay, you know what?! doll, i love you... i do so please never doubt me, yeah? but you can’t keep doing this, alright?! it’s not healthy! and if you—w-wait, what are you doing? wha-“

you lift your shirt up to flash him your naked breasts so he can shut up. and it worked. obviously. now, his eyes aren’t even looking at you but at his second favorite thing—after you— your lips stretch into a smirk when you see him freeze. jaw hanging open slightly.

“a-and you c-can’t” he gulps, becoming a stuttering mess as he struggles to maintain an eye contact. “c-can’t—like—just—fuck! this is unfair! what was i saying?!”

oh yeah, now you’re taking the W

-

did this once with my ex and got fucked lol

[gaysindistress]

Things that I feel like would happen when you’re in a relationship with Simon Riley.

Simon Riley masterlist

1. First off he hates the word ‘boyfriend’.

Maybe it’s because he’s in his mid thirties or something but he can’t stand being called your boyfriend. He’s more than that but also not at the same time. You live together, have access to each other’s bank accounts (which is only because he hates it when you try to fight him about him giving you money), and you’re each others emergency contact. He thinks of himself as your husband. The man wears a silicone ring when he’s home and a necklace with the ring that’s totally not a wedding band when he’s working. Price has seen the chain once or twice and smirks, shooting him a knowing look but never says a word.

Simon cannot stand it when people get nosy and want to know what your relationship status is. You’re together and that’s all that matters. No one needs to know that you’re the beneficiary of his will and life insurance policy or that he’s put you on all of his accounts. No one needs to know that he buys you anything you want but has only ever bought you two rings; a thin gold band with a flower engraved on it and its twin a matching emerald ring. No one needs to know that when he gifted them to you, there were tears and promises of safety, love, and happiness whispered against feverish skin. No one needs to know that he has your name woven into his chest tattoo.

No one needs to know any of that because your relationship is between him and you only.

2. You are not some submissive little house wife. You are a strong independent woman and he prefers it that way.

I know this one goes against what most people say but hear me out on this. Simon has been independent since birth practically. He’s only had himself to count on for years. Even in the military, he’s only been able to rely himself. Sure the others watch out for him but if it came down to it, he’s the only one who’s going to get himself out alive.

The thought of someone else relying on him in that way is terrifying. He can’t even fathom what it would be like to look at another person and fully trust them in that way. Half the time he feels like he can’t even be trusted to take care of himself let alone another human. In theory a sweet docile housewife is great with the meals and clean house but not for him. He needs to know that you can hold your own. He needs to know that you can be independent and carry on without him if something happened while he was working. He needs to know that you will be okay if he doesn’t come back.

You have to be okay without him no matter how much it pains him to think about it.

Like I said before, he’s made you the beneficiary of everything so he knows you’ll be set financially but that’s not enough. He’s made Price promise to keep an eye out for you. He’s made you promise to let Price do that and you agreed because it’s Simon who’s asking but you’d tell anyone else to fuck off.

In addition to all of that, he’s installed the best security system the government has to offer in your house. You have a very expensive and large safe in your shared closet that he’s instructed you to only open if you feel unsafe. While you might not like it, you agree to go shooting with him so he can sleep at night knowing that you could protect yourself if he’s not home. He’s gone as far as to make sure you have all of the licenses and certificates that are needed to legally own firearms in the UK.

He’s not leaving any opportunity for you to be vulnerable or have your ‘safety checks’, as he calls them, taken away.

3. Simon Riley is a godless man…until he meets you.

Now this is entirely my own headcannon with no evidence to support it so bear with me.

Simon had a shitty childhood where his mom would pray to a god who never listened and his dad would shout verses at him when he was drunk. God was a mythical figure that he was told stories off with nothing to show for it. He did believe at one point but then his dad never got better, his mom wore bruises of every shade, and his brother found comfort in drugs.

He found himself praying when he was being tortured by the Mexican cartel. Between the flashbacks of his abusive past, he prayed to a god who had failed him so many times before to help him. He prayed again as he dug himself out of that Texas grave with the major’s jaw bone. He wailed his prayers when he found his family executed after Sparks tried to kill him.

After that he deemed himself a Godless man. Years of praying had passed with nothing. This god had decided that Simon was not worthy of a miracle so why would he continue to worship him?

That was until he met you. He finds himself praying before every mission, every time he has to leave you, every time he’s on his way home, and just about any other time he thinks of you. He doesn’t know what exactly he’s praying for other than for you to be there when he gets back.

He whispers his prayers to an absent god against your skin as he worships your body, soul, and heart. He promises to be devoted to you until his last breath and vows to find you again in whatever afterlife awaits you. He pledges to find solace in you and only you when his haunting nightmares return. He makes an oath to your heart that it will never weather another storm alone again for his will take whatever beating that comes your way. He shows you that he will love you in the same manner as a Hozier song; putting you above all else because you have become his religion, his faith, his beliefs, his life.

You have become all that he is and he thanks the god he once believed in for you. He prays again but to you, his heart, his love, and his beacon through the enteral storm of life.

[necrotic-nephilim]

as a Helena fan who's witnessed this whole bit go from silly jokes/memes to genuine vitriol, it's been utterly bizarre. from what i noticed, the root of the comparison came from people fanonizing Jason to the degree of saying "he has Catholic guilt (bc of the Flashpoint priest!Jason) and he'd be an English school teacher (bc i'm assuming, his taste for classic lit) and he's female rage-coded and he would adopt/protect children" which, are canonical traits of Helena. so at first, it was sort of a joke lamenting the fact ppl would rather force unrealistic headcanons onto Jason than consume content with a woman in the Batfam. because it's sort of a tad ironic/painful to see fanonized Jason Todd who's being called all these things he isn't, when there's a canon character who *is* all of those things right there. like if that's the character you want, why wouldn't you want to read about Helena. the issue started with frustration against fanon Jason, from my experience anyway.

but then, it spiraled out of control to become a comparison of their lethal moral code and their disagreements with Bruce suddenly making Jason this stupid boy clone of Helena. which isn't true and is an insult to both of them to claim they're at all the same. they kill for different reasons, they're at odds with Bruce for different reasons. a well-written Helena and a well-written Jason really have little in common. though their interactions could be interesting, i don't even think they'd get along tbh.

i think in recent months/years, the Batfamily fandom suddenly became self aware that they grossly ignore the women of the Batfam. and now they're trying *too hard* to course correct for that. to an extent, i get why Helena isn't in the majority of fanon content- she hasn't really *been* a Batfamily member since pre-Flashpoint. the New-52 and Rebirth versions of her character are arguably not even the same character and certainly not a character as important to the Batfamily as she used to be. so why *would* a fandom mostly pulling from modern comics know who she is aside from the couple WFA episodes she's been in. (which did her *no* favors for people understanding her and also whitewashed her before the art was fixed.)

but, i think everyone's now trying to prove how woke their fandom content is (i hate using that word, it sounds very republican but i can't think of a better one.) by including women and characters of color to prove they don't just care about the boys. and sure, it's cool and all if you want to pick up Huntress comics bc you're sick of reading about stories only featuring Bruce and his "sons", but now it's like. almost a competition to prove how much more you know about the Batfam than other people when you make these jokes. i've seen the same thing happening comparing Steph and Jason recently. yes, it's important to care about the more diverse characters of the Batfam as much as you care about the boys. but now they're put on this ridiculous pedestal of being the "more cool alternatives". an organic push for content about the underrated characters is one thing, but it's another thing entirely when it's born out of a performative nature, which is certainly what this whole... thing feels like.

and the irony is, you can *really* tell the people doing this the most haven't actually read much of Helena's content outside of Gail Simone's Birds of Prey. and my hot take is, i don't think Gail Simone does a *great* job with Helena and she's often pretty sexist toward Helena (making other characters slut shame her, making Helena very promiscuous which isn't something she has a history of, etc) so, while it's important content for Helena, it can be a shallow reading of her. where all you really get about her is "pro-murder Batfam vigilante with a crossbow and a sassy personality" which sure, feels a *bit* like a shallow Jason. but that's the whole point, you have to make them both *incredibly* shallow to compare them. bc it's not about actually liking the women, it's about getting the shallow brownie points of saying "look i know who she is and i think she's *totally* cooler than Jason he's a dumb copy".

tbh even with the Jason Todd headcanons that are more egregious in feeling like "oh that's just Helena Bertinelli but a dude", it's not like it's being done on purpose. none of these fanon-only fans know enough about Helena to be purposefully stealing her traits and it really isn't that deep aside from sometimes, people just have bad headcanons that kinda make you wish they would read about characters aside from their main blorbos. but hey, they're not *required* to, and no one is an evil misogynist for having some OOC headcanons. you suck the fun out of fandom when you require people to interact with characters they aren't interested in. and depending on why someone likes Jason, they honestly might not like Helena. they're wildly different and have very different dynamics with everyone around them.

and i get it, Jason has had *wildly* inconsistent writing and there's debate upon debate of what's in character for him, what comics you should consider when trying to make fan content about him, and so on. i'm in the "anything past pre-Flashpoint isn't in the version i prefer" camp, but the whole mess of it scatters the fandom on how to write him. which i think is the actual root of him getting fanonizing beyond recognition, *not* people stealing from Helena. is it particularly headache-inducing to see Jason fans say "he's girl coded" or "he's female-rage coded"? yeah. but even those fans aren't ever going to be convinced out of their bubble by vitriolic comments made about how Jason's a total loser and Helena's so much cooler than him. and then the more canon-based fans who might *actually* like Helena and probably would read her comics if just given an honest recommendation of her character are *really* not going to want to be interacting her content/fandom. painting a broad stroke of the Jason fandom all seeing Jason as this cartoonish fanon version of himself does you no favors with anyone.

like i used to find the silly jokes/memes that were solely calling out bad fanon enjoyable as pure lighthearted "oh i wish more people liked this character the way they liked that character bc the fandom for this character is so small" vibes, but you're right about it getting out of hand. it's become the only thing people seem to talk about in the Huntress fandom space. i'd much rather discuss Helena for who she is then talk about Jason. because isn't it just a *little* ironic that in attempting to make this fandom more inclusive of the women, we still just *have* to make it about the men? you don't make Helena, or Steph or Cass or Onyx or any other underrated woman sound cool by comparing them to Jason. you just make it sound like you don't know how she stands as a character on her own. she's a cool character with a cool history (both in-universe and the meta history of the Huntress mantle) but this whole weird hate boner for Jason permeating the fandom space for her just makes people hate her instead of not know of her. and really, i can't blame anyone for that.

Like. Where and when did Helena vs Jason thing start? It's so fucking annoying and makes me think that I'll never want to interact with the Huntress fandom if/when I read more stuff about her. Which is a bit how I avoid interacting with the Nightwing fandom at large despite liking his stuff.

[beloveds-embrace]

Ask for the dukedom poly 141!

How did it started for all of them to get together? Any specific details? Who fell for whom first? Did it start as just sex? Is it still just sex? Or some kind of deep feelings? Some brutal men type of love wich could be soften with Reader's delicate tenderness? I NEED TO KNOW EVERYTHING! Please please please?

Part one

It started first with Kyle and John! They grew up together, and had all their firsts together despite the age difference because their fathers often worked together despite Kyle’s family being commoners, and by the time John became a Duke, Kyle had also befriended and slept with Johnny and was just finishing his own training- recently moved in from the neighbouring country an the attraction between them had been apparent from the very start.

Up until that point, Kyle and John hadn’t put a label on what they had; they just knew they loved the other, and slept together in more ways than one. Johnny and Kyle started out as just sex, but Johnny took his mother’s natural socialness and would still drag Kyle with him to the family bakery they’d opened up.

Johnny meets John through Kyle, and it’s that same spark of attraction once again- except Kyle joins them, obviously, too. That same spark and yet another thing that tastes just as sweet as the desserts Johnny makes and helps his parents sell.

Even now, they don’t put a label on it. They can’t, even if they wanted to. John is meant to marry a good woman who will give him an heir and they are commoners. It was never meant to be but they don’t care.

John then becomes a Duke, and as is tradition he enlists in the empire’s military to prove his loyalty and show his Dukedome’s strength. Right before he leaves, he hires both Kyle and Johnny. The night before he is set to leave is one they spend entirely awake.

It’s during his time in the military thag John meets fellow Duke Simon, whose attitude is cold and stoic yet no one can deny his strength. John is among the few who are unafraid or unbothered by his attitude.

Saving one another (John refuses to leave any man behind and Simon refuses to leave any debts unpaid), deep in the trenches and with so much tension and stress, a few fucks would honestly boost morale.

Except Simon doesn’t do anything half-assed and John is a sucker for this surly bastard and well. He knows Simon fits Kyle and Johnny’s types too.

Once he and Simon are finished with their mandatory enlisting, John takes up the rest of his duties and ignores the need for a wife even if rumors swirl. And just as he predicted, his men do get along very well. He’s happy with his men whom he loves (it took a while to accept that it was truly love, but it’s undeniable) and the last thing he wants to add into his house is a woman who would no doubt never accept this arrangement and who’d never respect Johnny and Kyle and would drag them all in trouble.

But he can’t push it off for too long, and even Kyle, Johnny, and Simon tell him they _understand_- Simon especially but thankfully most everyone is too scared of him to say anything- and that he should just do it.

That’s when you come in; sweet, precious you who don’t threaten them with anything when you find out, and who are nice to all of them even when John knows some newspapers have started calling you barren. Soft, precious you who John also accepts as his own, and he knows, just watching you interact with them, you are what would soften and sweeten this relationship more. You are perfect for them, and when he hears about Graves and you? John knows he can’t just sit back anymore.

[miserycanary]

BREAK MY HEART INTO TWO ᡣ𐭩 ⤷ next

pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley & fem!reader

synopsis: Ghost has been feeling pissed off lately, and happens to lash out on you

tags: slight angst, misunderstandings, very slight mention of violence

He knew he was not in the right headspace. With the newly added task of training new recruits, the dead-end mission, and overall exhaustion. Ghost could feel his patience nearing nothing and he could feel it in his bones that he wouldn’t be able to control himself from lashing out soon— even if it was you. 

That’s why he started to distance himself and avoid you like the plague. Only responding with grunts or one-word answers. It’s not the best action but he couldn’t think of anything else. Despite the frustration clouding his mind, he still vows to never hurt you. He promised you that; reassured you that he would never ever raise his voice at you, his hand stroking your back and kissing your temple, after you told him about your past one drunken night. 

The first time Simon came home and didn’t immediately wrap his arm around you, nosing the crook of your neck, you knew something was up. You didn’t push the matter though. Brushing it off as something trivial and proceeding to go your usual routine. You did notice things that you never brought up with him: heavy footsteps, the lack of teasing from him, and uncharacteristically never clinging onto you  

What finally pushed you to visit the base was when Si, your husband who would go through all levels of hell just to be close to you and never lets a night pass without you with him in bed, suddenly tells you he will be sleeping on the couch. It baffled you. This is the same man who wrapped all his limbs around to keep you from leaving after a big fight. The same man that acts like a big baby when you tell him you’re gonna be away on a work event. Suddenly, the idea of him getting bored of you and finding entertainment with another woman intrusively swirled in your mind. 

Were you too loud? Too chatty? Clingy? Maybe you didn’t satisfy him enough. Maybe he wanted a wife available to always cook for him after work. It scared you. You love him; love him enough to change just to keep him.

You needed to talk to him. Whether he likes it or not. 

“Price, please. Just call him for me?” The captain looks at you, hesitating. Even though he was aware of Ghost’s thinning temper and didn’t want to put his comrade’s wife in a position that could result in a fight, he also knew that you needed to solve this. He scratches his beard, nervously looking at you. 

“Sweetheart, I don’t know. The man.. he.. he hasn’t been the best these days? Maybe you should go home and wait for him—“. You cut him off, “he doesn’t want to talk to me! Please, just 5 minutes and I won’t even cause a scene. I promise!” With a sigh, he finally relents and tells you to stay there while he calls for your husband. You crack a smile, nodding and feeling a sense of relief wash over you. 

Moments after being alone, a new recruit (you assume considering you’ve never met this man nor did Simon ever mention him) approaches you with a low wolf whistle. His hands find your waist before you can even comprehend what’s happening, pulling you close to his chest. 

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing here?” You freeze, and disgust starts to bubble up inside of you. You plant your hand on his chest in an attempt to pull away in fear that Simon would witness this and think differently. Before you could say to leave you alone, a voice booms out. A voice you know too well. 

“Y/N!” Simon takes three strides and he was near enough to pull the recruit away from you and land a punch. Scandalous gasps went around while the yells of other members went inaudible to you. You stood there in horror as Price stepped in, pushing Ghost away and yelling to stand down. This was not your Simon. Your Simon would never be this violent in front of you— he was too scared to frighten you and do something to push you away. These weren’t the same hands carried you as if a delicate flower he plucked as well. The hands that routinely offers to brush your hair every night and washes you every sex session while he kisses your shoulders, showering you with endless praise with a voice filled with adoration.

Ghost whips his head. His cold stare made you falter, taking a step back. Something you never thought you’d do when faced with him. You could see his mask move, undoubtedly hiding his disappointment and furrowed eyebrows. 

“What are you doing here?” He seethes, roughly gripping your arm tight enough to leave a bruise.

“I-I... I wanted to see you—“ Before you could even finish, Ghost groans with frustration. “I fucking told you to not come to the base. Were you even thinking? Use that pea-sized brain of yours once in a while! Just.. leave me alone and go home.”

Silence. The whole base quiets down with his words, a tense atmosphere building up. You freeze. From the corner of your eye, you notice Price’s contort with concern and hesitation if he should meddle. 

The pain you felt was indescribable. It was as if Ghost took your heart and crushed it with his bare hands. Your breathing got labored, your eyes flicked down, taking deep breaths to hold back tears. Before the realization has fully settled, you pull away from Ghost, mumbling something incoherent. In that moment, Ghost knew he fucked up. He hurt his darling flower. He hurt the only person he treasured. The person that stayed with him through thick and thin. The person he married, vowed in front of God to love forever and to never hurt. 

“No, baby— I didn’t mean to—“

You cut him off, telling him you were going back just like he wanted. You didn’t even call it your home. You always do. Saying it with pride to have something to call home with him. 

God, what has he done? 

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: dare I say this man needs a break :} Second part is out. Little detail: I use ‘Simon’ during Y/N’s pov and Ghost for the rest, but used Ghost for her after he yelled at her. :3

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask is open!

⟢ taglist is open!! Comment if you want to be tagged in the next posts.

check out my other works in the masterlist: ୭!

[suguann]

He has a feeling that the new girl running the front desk at the gym is going to be a problem—a distraction disguised in a gym uniform polo and khaki pants.

It starts with you smiling too brightly as he walks in one morning, all teeth and that little twinkle in your eye that feels like trouble when you scan his membership card.

“Good morning, Mr. Riley.” 

“It’s just Simon,” he tells you as he takes his card off the counter. 

The following day, it’s the same, except Johnny is there to make it worse.

He nudges Simon with his elbow. “She’s kinda pretty, huh?”

“Say it any louder, and she’ll hear you, mate,” he grumbles.

Simon’s not blind; of course, he knows you’re pretty, but he doesn’t have time to commit to anything outside of work—even if you smile at him like you’re happy to see him and how he’ll think about it later: on missions, at his desk, during morning runs. His head is nothing short of woven webs with thoughts of you stuck in the middle.

Honestly, it’s that you—

(You try to make small talk with him every morning, and Simon is starting to think it’s just for him because on the days he doesn’t come alone, you merely scan his card and go back to reading the open paperback book on the desk.)

It’s weird because it’s almost like you—

(He bumps into you at the supermarket and makes a dumb joke about carrots that makes you laugh. It makes him a little tongue-tied and awkward afterward because he realizes he hasn’t talked to a woman outside of only wanting a quick fuck in a really long time, but more importantly, he wants to hear it again. 

Instead, he tosses potatoes in his cart and walks away.)

He tells himself it means nothing, or not how Simon wants it to.

You’re just…he’s not even sure; acquaintances? Maybe more than that, but less than friends. Somewhere in that odd in-between phase where he only knows bits and pieces but not the whole picture.

Sometimes, he wishes—

(Simon doesn’t know what he’s doing the first time he invites you to meet the guys from work on a night out. He’s dated around a few times and had his fair share of hook-ups, but this isn’t like that. His palms are sweaty, more than usual, and no amount of wiping them on the thighs of his jeans keeps them dry.

Then you walk into the bar in a dress that’s probably too light for early spring in London—even though he stares appreciatively at the long expanse of your legs as you walk up to the table—and he wishes he wasn’t introducing you as his friend.)

But you—

(A new development happens after you slip him your phone number on one of the gym’s business cards—it’s weird that we don’t have each other’s numbers, so message me sometime or whatever—and he messages you ‘hey’ right before he leaves for a mission a few days later. 

It slowly shifts and changes over time.

You start sending him texts in the morning. Never an actual good morning text, but of the dogs you take on walks, the sunrise, the new flower box in your window. Somehow, it’s better.)

You really are—

(His house feels too hot, and he’s distracted from the movie by how close you are, how your leg drapes over his under the blanket, fingers fisting into his sweater at his stomach that clenches. An ache that grows, throbbing, spreading from his abdomen to his groin.

It feels monumental—something more than the gentle touch to the elbow to squeeze by each other in his entryway earlier or giving you his jacket that night at the bar—a tilt of the axis that makes the messy pieces fall neatly into place. 

He must be staring because you glance up at him, smiling, and the sound from the TV turns into white noise in the background.

“Can I…would you—fucking hell,” Simon runs a hand through his hair. “Can I kiss you?”

When your lips press against his, and his hands are pulling you onto his lap, where you settle hotly against his dick tenting in his jeans, he wonders why neither of you has done this before. Just kissing—him licking the seam of your mouth, and you panting his name.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” you mumble, lips brushing his.

“Me too,” and he fists his hand into the hair at your nape and pulls you back to his mouth.)

“I knew you’d be trouble,” he tells you one day, glaring at the bloke further down the bar who tried making a swipe at your ass before Simon showed up, towering over his shoulder with your fruity cocktail in hand.

“Oh, yeah?” you giggle, leaning into his side.

“Yeah,” the corners of his mouth quirk, though he hides it when he presses a kiss against your temple. “A real pain in my ass, love.”

“But yours.”

This time, he does smile. “Yes, but mine.”

Masterlist

[mymelx]

After an argument with older fiance Simon Ghost Riley

No usage of Y/N

"You should be with a much mature and older woman instead of me..." is what you murmur to your fiance after an argument, a stupid one because you felt he's been cheating on you each time he told you he's going on a mission.

He looks at you with dead eyes. Literally. Without any expression.

He rarely curses in front of you (and never at you), but this time, he can't help but let out a "what the fuck did you just say?" out of pure surprise.

You sniffle and squeeze your little hands into a fist, look away, and murmur "That would be better for you... I'm just..."

You burst into tears, trying to hold your voice low.

He sighs and walks to you.

You step back while crying. That's what you always do. You always care about him, always being kind and sweet, loving him, hiding anything that makes your little heart ache or break, and then... there's going to be a fight. But instead of arguing, you just step back and tell him to leave you.

He never does, though. Obviously. Never.

He hugs you and assures you that he's not going to leave his little girl after all the years of being together.

He sighs again and talks in a low voice

"Fucking hell, cut these nonsense out, woman... baby, look at me."

He gently cups you face with his big, warm hands, looking right in your pretty teary eyes

"Listen, 'm not gonna leave ya. Never. Even if you told me to. Can't have my heart torn like this, by you, sweetheart. Can't see how much I love you? Do you think I could easily leave? I don't even think about it, fuck."

You burst into tears yet another time, and he kisses your temple. He picks you up with you straddling him with your legs. He gently lays you on the bed, assuring you for the rest of the night.

[devereaux]

Simone Kessell: Acting at home and abroad... | NZ On Screen