#Sunday Riley

[likeavsangel]

[seniouesbabes]

Lily Maymac 🌸💋🍒🌸 Essentials @sundayriley & @LANOLIPS

[diamondsandpebbles]

Serums.

Let's talk about serums and the ones I'm currently using and loving #skincare

Often considered one of the most important steps in a skincare routine, serums are known to do a lot of the heavy lifting when it comes to treating specific skin concerns and reaching skin goals. I 1000% stand by this sentiment as over the years I’ve relied on different serums to help target everything from dry skin to hyperpigmentation to breakouts. So, let’s get into all the serums I currently…

[styledbykdg]

In With the Old

Several thought leaders and social media influencers have stated that they feel like the new year is just starting now, today. It has taken folks a few weeks to get here. To wrap up 2023. To shake off the holidays. To just process the state of affairs — our own and the tattered, worn-down proverbial state of affairs. I’ll gladly take this grace to jumpstart the blog today for a new year. As fun…

[heavenbarnes]

thinking about older bf!simon that doesn’t have to understand it to get behind it

“y’sure sweet’art? i could do with a shower”

you didn’t have to say anything, just had to look at him a certain way to tell him everything he had to know

“oh, thas’ the point innit?”

he doesn’t get it, but he always gets it

thick thighs spread on the couch with a spit-slicked fist stroking his cock steadily

your tongue rolling over his balls, sucking one into your mouth as you dug your fingernails into the taught muscle of his legs

“jus’ like that, oh- you filthy fuckin’ thing, you”

he smelt like hard work, like a long day, like manual labour, like-

he smelt like simon

the sound of your deep inhale wasn’t lost on him, making his eyes roll back in his head as it accompanied the lewd wet sounds of your lips

beating his cock faster, the other slipped around the back of your head to pull you in and keep you right where he wanted you

doesn’t have to understand to enjoy

“thas’ it, hold y’head steady f’me now”

[gofishygo]

no but what if reader sacrifices themself for soap in the tunnel... (implied ghoap, ghoap x reader; mcd, reader has very low self esteem, reader probably has depression, mw3 spoilers)

you know how important he is to ghost. everybody does- it's hard to not notice that they are practically symbiotic- feeding off of each other's laughs, near inseparable. you never see one without the other.

and compared to him, you are nothing more than a burden to the team, you figure. you do not carry soap's explosive force, the intensity in his eyes, nor do you have half of ghost's expertise in sniping, do not carry any of his mystique. you dont- you dont deserve a second glance, much less any of their kindness. your fascination, you like to call it, towards johnny and ghost, it should be hidden under your tongue, clandestine and invisible.

nobody gets a say in how quickly you are to establish yourself as the wallflower of the 1-4-1. and by the time of mw3, nobody gets to intercept how you manage to run solo in a team, no matter how much they try to reach out. they have each other. why would they ever need you?

so in that clammy, chilling tunnel, your reactions to such an ambush are second nature- you shut down the moment johnny's shoulder is shot. tackling the enemy- the movement is so instantaneous and blurry that you do not realise that said enemy is makarov himself-onto the asphalt and plunging your knife in and out of him until the muzzle of a gun presses against your head and it's bullet lodges into the back of your brain. you die instantly, silently, not hearing how johnny screams your name instead of your callsign, how simon, for the first time, seems uncoordinated, desperate like a dog as he fumbles to revive you. you had never thought that they cared, never believed they would look at you with reprocipricated admiration. and moments before you die, you realise that you will never know how much of a presence you were in their lives, and you close your eyes knowing that they will be okay together. but you arent around long enough to see how they crumble, and you die with the belief that in this world, you are none other than a replacement. you never seem to stay around long enough to see how simon, johnny, love you.

and you never will.

[temeyes]

sobbing I LOVE YOUR STYLE One moment it's all serious then we just have it to sweet litol big-eyed babies 😭

I shall ask if i can feast on your art 🥺

oh yes you may feast- doODLEBOB GHOST PUT THE PEWPEW DOWN!!!

[pippynsworld]

Ghost sticking his tongue out while concentrating is my favorite thing.

[mrsrileywrites]

A little smut on Sunday? Yes, please!

I wrote this in the morning so I was still eepy sleepy and I just poured out the thoughts on my head as they came... Hope you all enjoy, as always any interaction and positive criticism is highly appreciated, love you all have a nice Sunday and go to church you sinners! jk😅

First time sex with Simon Riley.

He'll start slow, undressing you little by little leaving a hot trail of kisses on your skin.

He'll prep you real good first so you can take his monster cock with ease (cause this guy is big you can't tell me otherwise). He'll make you come on his tongue and fingers at least twice before he even thinks of putting his cock inside.

He'll rub soothing circles on your thigh as he enters you slowly making sure you are okay, praising you and ignoring the need to ravage your tight cunt.

Once his monster cock is halfway inside you he'll start moving, short little thrusts until he's balls deep inside you, praising you all the way, (cause I say so).

He'll fuck you deep and slow, his face tucked on your neck sucking little marks, his heavy breathing and your soft moans filling the room as you come undone underneath this hot, hot man.

He'll pull out and stroke his cock spilling his seed on your belly.

Now, here's the thing...

You weren't even fully down from high so you weren't thinking about the consequences of your actions when your hand reached for your belly, you weren't thinking when you scooped his cum with your middle and ring fingers and you weren't thinking either when you made eye contact and sucked your fingers clean tasting his cum and hummed contently (yummy🤤).

It was a mistake (was it? 😏) cause your mindless actions made his softening cock twitch back to life and he fucked you all night long.

But he got you breakfast in bed the following morning cause you were so sore you thought you may need a wheelchair for at least two weeks.

I'm so not normal about this man 🥴

[mellowswriting]

Okay okay,

this smutty idea has been plaguing my mind but imagine Ghoap x you but Simon gets a bit frustrated at how noisy you and Johnny are so he roughly grabs your hair and makes you kiss Johnny so you’ll both quiet down (please ignore if you don’t feel comfortable writing!)

content || SMUT, threesome, unprotected p in v sex, oral, multiple orgasms, dom/sub undertones, dom!Simon x sub!reader x sub!Johnny

a/n || no one look at me this is FILTHY lmao

sinful sunday

----------

It’s nearly three in the morning. Simon has been working the two of you over for hours. He couldn’t tell you just how many orgasms he’s put you through, even before he bullied his fat cock into your pussy. At least once with his tongue, maybe two more with his fingers and tongue together. You deserve each and every one of them. You’ve been such a good girl for him, so obedient and patient over the last few days since he’s been able to fuck you silly. 

Johnny, though? He’s been bad, too whiny and desperate. Pawing at him in every waking moment. Begging for the chance to get his cock wet. Trying to lure you into his bad behavior with those begging eyes and his persuasive tongue. 

This is his punishment. Simon made him watch every second of your reward. He snapped at Johnny the moment he palmed himself over his pants, growling at him to keep his hands off of his needy cock. The poor man had to shove his hands beneath his thighs to resist the temptation. Simon doesn’t make it easy for him. He makes the man lay next to you as Simon eats you out. He makes him kneel beside you as you take his cock in your mouth. 

But this… Even Simon has to admit that this is cruel. 

Johnny’s cock leaks against his belly as Simon fucks you, your knees straddling the Scot’s hips and your hands braced on either side of his head. Tempting him with the very thing Simon won’t let him have. Johnny takes his punishment with wide dopey eyes and desperate little groans, but his hand hasn’t wrapped around his cock once. 

Every slow, measured thrust forces broken little sounds from your throat. Those sounds soothe some prowling beast that lingers in his chest. Simon loves just how good you take him, how sweet you cry his name. But the two of you together, his two desperate little sluts, are making too much fucking noise. By now, the entire building knows what's happening in this little room. 

“You two need to shut the fuck up.” He hisses. Simon grabs a fistful of your hair and shoves you down onto your forearms. “Go on, Johnny boy. Shut her up and maybe I’ll let you come.” 

A desperate sound cleaves through Johnny, one that’s quickly muffled by his plush lips. Molten pleasure slithers down his spine at the sight. You cling to him, feeding each other little moans and whimpers. He can’t help but quicken his pace, his hands on your hips as he fucks you in short, brutal strokes. Ever dutiful, Johnny quiets your cries with his lips and tongue. Simon drapes himself over you, his chest flush with your back. 

“Go on, Johnny,” Simon grunts out. “Touch her. Make that pretty pussy come around my cock.” 

Simon can feel the moment Johnny’s nimble fingers find your clit. Your cunt spasms around him, choking his cock until it feels impossible to pull out. It doesn’t matter - he wasn’t planning on it, anyway. Every thrust sends wetness gushing against his thighs until you finally come with a cry that Johnny drinks right from the cup of your mouth. Simon can’t help but follow soon after, his cum adding to the messy mix between your thighs. 

It isn’t until Simon leans back to make good on his promise that he sees Johnny’s stomach covered in his own cum.

[whatev-i-guess]

jealousy

A new recruit, but apparently an old friend of Soap is greeting him in a friendly manner. A close hug, some pats on his back.

Ghost watches.

Sour prickles rise in his stomach as he sees Soap's bright smile getting shared with another soldier.

He never felt this way before. Wondering why not being close to Soap is suddenly a test of endurance. He takes a step up to them, his eyes meeting blue irises. The smile suddenly even brighter than before. He stares, not saying a word.

He steps next to Soap, his hand searching it's way onto the Sergeant's lower back.

"I was about to ask you to join us."

Johnny's voice is music in his ears. He bends down slightly, not able to share a kiss with his balaclava on. His mask gently brushes against Soap's neck as he whispers.

"I was about to ask you to my room."

He never says things like that. Never really does things like that.

But Johnny's blush on his cheeks are worth it and when Ghost's eyes scan over the new recruit he is happy to see that they turn around to give them some space.

Maybe jealousy is something he needs to learn how to deal with.

[pekoehoneyncream]

Ghoaptober # 12

Prompt: Letter

Words: 1200~

TW: None (sfw)

This version of Ghoaptober was created by @spadesandshovels

Once again, 'Coinneach John Mactavish' being Soap's full name is a personal headcanon of mine.

Enjoy!

Price walked into the officer’s recreation room that the one-four-one task force had co-opted as their own, after a fancier rec-room had opened for the officers closer to the central hubbub of the base and the original room had been all but forgotten. It had officially become theirs after Ghost had quietly replaced the room's card-reader with a locking knob, and calmly distributed the keys to his teammates without any clarification of what they were for.

Was that completely against regulations? Yes. 

Did he have Captain Price's full -and unspoken- support? Also yes.

“Post’s in, lads.” Price announced, dropping a fat envelope and a medium sized box mummified in packing tape onto the wobbily coffee table that squatted in front of the telly. 

First to come over and investigate, as always, was Gaz. He’d said before that his father, Arthur Garrick, claimed to enjoy the rustic charm of sending handwritten letters rather than texting or calling, but Gaz was fairly certain that the family preference for letters came from the fact that it was nearly impossible to get Gaz and Gaz’s mother, Gemma Garrick, on the same schedule for a family phone call. Gaz was the apple of his parent’s eyes and every letter was at least three pages from each of them, as they caught each other up on the new gossip and Arthur tried to draw his son into debates on various books. Most times when a package came in it was a book for Gaz that his father wanted him to read, so that they could talk about it. 

Pulling out his knife to open the box, Gaz ignored Ghost judging the knife’s maintenance from his perch looming behind Soap on the raggedy two-seater sofa in the corner and cut easily through the tape. Pausing when he found the box filled with an excessive amount of packing materials and cushioning, topped with another letter. 

After rechecking that the name on the thick envelope he’d claimed did read ‘Kyle Garrick’, he closed the box flaps and searched for its shipping label. Finding it addressed to ‘Coinneach MacTavish’, matching the letter in the box. 

“Cap, I think the mail room gave you someone else’s stuff.” Gaz said, sheepishly keeping the box pressed closed, “Is there another MacTavish on base or something?”

“No,” Ghost spoke up, Soap and he watching curiously as Price walked back over to investigate, “There isn’t.”

Gaz pointed to the name on the shipping label, quietly suffering through Price’s slow sans reading-glasses squint. 

“No,” The Captain eventually denied, “They didn’t give me the wrong box, that’s for Soap.”

“Soap?” Gaz exclaimed, “But it says-” 

It was the abrupt pause as Gaz debated his willingness to give reading the addressee’s name aloud a crack that got Soap up and moving. Ghost following along behind him. 

Soap spun the box on the table and checked the name himself. “Aye, it’s fer me,” He confirmed, sliding the box off the table into his arms.

“Since when are you C- Coneech?” Gaz interrogated, pointing accusingly at Soap. 

“Coinneach.” Soap corrected amiably, ignoring Ghost pawing at the box as he tried to uncover the label to take a peek, “An’ since the day I wae born, I recon.” 

“Your name’s not John?” Ghost’s voice carried no inflection at all, and Soap instantly knew he was taking being ignorant of this badly. 

“Nae!” Soap cried, spinning to face Ghost head on, “It is! Mah full name’s Coinneach John.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ghost’s voice remained completely flat, but he allowed himself to grasp the hand Soap stretched out to him. 

“Would ye believe it never occurred tae me?” Soap gave his partner a self-deprecating smile, “Naen bu’ the folk back home call me Coinneach.” 

“They don’t call you Johnny.” Ghost said it as a statement rather than a question, but Soap knew he was searching for reassurance. 

“Nae, jus' you can pull that off, mo chridhe.” Soap squeezed at his hand, and was warmed by Ghost returning the squeeze, “Ma and mah grandparents call me Coinneach, an’ mos’ ae mah siblings call me Kennie. Johnny is jus’ y’urs.” 

Ghost nodded, and by the possessive gleam in his eyes Soap knew he liked that.

“Anyway.” Gaz interjected, jolting them from their doe-eyed staring, “What’s in the package, Tav?” 

“Oh,” Soap startled, looking down at the box tucked under his arm like he’d completely forgotten he was holding it, “Ah dinnae ken. Ah didnae ask fer any’hing.”

Soap plunked the box back down on the table and started tearing out all the cushioning with no aplomb, waving away Gaz’s embarrassed apology for mistakenly opening his package. 

“Aw, fuck,” Soap groaned into his hands when the enough of the packing had been discarded that the shape of the contents had become more clear, “Ah tol’ him no’ tae send it,”

Price came over to join Gaz and Ghost in staring cluelessly at the vaguely teardrop shape still safely ensconced in its plastic prison. 

‘What's it, luvie?” Price spoke after a beat, as Soap seemed content to groan scots gaelic complaints into his palms instead of finishing his unpackaging of the mysterious object.  

“Mo fìdheall.” Soap mumbled, electing to continue hiding his face, but unable to hide the blush that crept up to redden the tips of his ears. 

“English, Johnny,” Ghost chided, coming around to press up against Soap’s back, his eyes crinkling in a fond smile when the Scot immediately turned to bury his face into Ghost’s chest.

“Granda sent me mah fuckin’ fiddle.” Soap whinged, upping his volume to make up for him smothering himself in his partner’s pecs, “I tol’ him nae. When ah’m ah gonnae be fuckin’ playin’ a fuckin’-” the rest of Soap’s grumbles faded into incoherent Scots. 

Ghost’s chest shook with suppressed giggles and he brought a hand up to pet at Johnny’s warhawk, not in the slightest bit interested in dislodging Soap from his hiding spot. 

“Can I open it?” Gaz asked, darting looks between Soap’s back and the mostly opened box, proceeding without hesitation when Soap waved an uncaring hand back at him. The Scot was busy having his brain melted by heavenly head scritches, letting all his weight drop onto an increasingly smug Ghost. 

Discarding an improbable amount of bubble wrap and three quilts, Gaz pulled out and unzipped a case, then lifted free an aged violin. 

“Tav, you play the fiddle?” Gaz asked, holding it up by the neck like it was his prized catch of the day. Price’s eyebrows raised to kiss his hairline as he looked contemplatively between the instrument in question and his hiding Sergeant. 

A huge sigh heaved though Soap, and he rocked his head to the side to peek out at them with one blue eye, a ruddy blush still staining his cheeks, “Aye.” He reluctantly confirmed, “Ah can.”

“Will you play us something?” Price asked, a hidden eagerness colouring his question. 

“Nae,” Soap shook his head back into the crease of Ghost’s pecs, the rest of his answer lost to the plush of Ghost’s chest. 

“He said he needs to tune it and check it wasn’t damaged.” Ghost relayed after clearing what sounded suspiciously like a giggle from his throat. 

“Another time then,” Price permitted with a nod, ignoring the irreverent wave Soap tossed him. 

Gaz packed the fiddle back into its case with gentle hands, by its age he guessed that it probably belonged to someone else before Soap, maybe a parent or a grandparent. He thought of asking, but a glance over dissuaded him. 

Ghost had herded Soap back over to their sofa and had the Scot tucked up securely on his lap with his head pressed into Ghost’s neck as skillful fingers scritched over his scalp, making a mess of his warhawk. Not that Soap seemed to care, if the blissed out hums that he was letting a very self-satisfied Ghost wring from his throat were any indication.

Thank You For Reading!

I know absolutely nothing about playing the fiddle, nor do I have any idea about how'd I go about writing someone playing it. So we just neatly sidestepped that.

PekoeHoneynCream's Masterlist

[seniouesbabes]

Lily Maymac 🌸🍒💋🌸 Facials are amazing @sundayriley 😇

[pettyprocrastination]

Line cook!Simon who has most definitely had situationships with the server staff before that never ends well and makes work awkward for everybody. Who gives you, the new cook, an amicable nod of the head in greeting each day for your first week and watches you move around the kitchen with efficiency and laughing along with your coworker’s jokes and maybe he’s been staring a little too long because after his shift he’s all but dragged into the manager’s office who pokes a finger in his face and says under no circumstances is he allowed to fuck around with you because they can’t afford to lose a great employee cause of his dumbass. 

[sanjispudding]

when you propose to alex, after he accepts, talk to him again.

you get this cute little dialogue (along with another where he says "i can't wait!!") and then a little kiss.

he's so sweet once you get to know him.

[well-someones-gotta-do-it]

When We Were Young Fest is upon us! Is Gabe Saporta bringing back the purple skinny jeans? Will Kellin Quinn show up for King for a Day? WHAT WILL GERARD WEAR?

These and many other questions, I cannot answer, because I am not there. And for those of you also celebrating from afar, I bring you the I Can't Go to When We Were Young Fest Sale. Saturday and Sunday, get 10% off in my Etsy shop of any pattern/sticker/finished piece for any of the bands playing! Stitch away your sorrows while you wait for Twitter to tell you all the news (or yknow. Maybe you're rejoicing that you don't have to be at some festival grounds in Las Vegas. That's also a valid emotion).

(Also, please appreciate Riley’s best attempt at duping the WWWYF promo materials with the free version of Canva)