#id fucking combust by the way

[fairyhaos]

SO FUCKING HEART FLUTTERING WHAT THE FUCK ?! ;!??

[chellestrash]

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[lilywastaken]

⇝ midnight .

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!AFAB!Reader.

PART ONE OF MÉNAGE.

SUMMARY: Simon makes the mistake of spending the night before one of the longest missions of his career in the arms of a woman he met at a pub, unaware of the consequences it would have on his life moving forward.

WARNINGS: AFAB!Fem!Reader (no use of Y/N!) NSFW [ Oral (F receiving), Degradation, Praising, size difference/kink, dacryphilia, dumbification, slight bondage, frottage, unprotected P in V, overstimulation, various orgasms, creampie.], Angst, Pregnancy, mentions of abortion, kind of OOC Simon? He’s just soft when he’s not Ghost, Canon typical violence.

A/N: My first COD fic! It also happens to be the longest piece of writing I've ever done 😵! This is the first part of a series I've been planning on writing for a while, so I'll hopefully get the second part out soon! Please don't forget to reblog/comment if you enjoy the fic, it helps a lot!!! Thanks for all the support!! <3

WORD COUNT: 10.1k.

MASTERLIST.

Also on Ao3!

Going out wasn't one of Ghost's favourite things to do.

Even after getting back to his tiny flat in Manchester following a horribly long mission and shedding his mask, going back to the burly man his neighbours knew as Simon, some random guy who had moved in a few years ago and seldom stepped outside except for the random smoking session some of them would see him having on his balcony; he didn't enjoy going out.

So when he finally was able to relax onto his shitty leather sofa and catch up with some of the footy games he had missed while away, all he wanted more than anything was a good whiskey in his favourite (cleanest) glass.

And almost like a cartoon character staring at their empty wallet, Simon stared ahead at his liquor cabinet, jaw clenched as he spied at the remaining drops of alcohol that were left in the bottle, remembering the mental note he had made before leaving his flat the last time to get himself the alcohol he had chugged down during one of his depressive episodes.

So, in a fit of anger, he shoved on whatever clean clothes he could find in his duffle bag, skull balaclava pulled over his messy hair, and stomped down the stairs to the nearest Tesco…

…only to find it closed.

And fuck him if he was going to walk the extra hour to the nearest Morrison's just to get some shitty whiskey bottle to drown his sorrows in. At this point, he'd just go and sit in a corner of a pub, nursing what he would hope would be an acceptable liquor.

He was absolutely pissed by the time he made it into the homey bar, the universe having decided to make it it's personal mission to fuck him up today and making the worst storm possible start to rain upon Manchester.

Oh, and of course, the pub's tables were all full of teenagers (who definitely had fake IDs, no way they were all 18), and some old geezers who were shouting at the football game on TV (great, Manchester was loosing, another thing to worsen his night), leaving the only available seat one in the middle of the bar next to some woman chatting amicably to the waiter, who seemed a bit more interested in her cleavage than in what she had to say.

He slipped into the seat silently, his clear eyes death-staring into the bartender's, immediately scaring him shitless ("Yer about ta kill me with that look, Lt." Johnny had once joked about his murderous gaze, and to be fair, Simon was slightly hoping the scot would combust and die right there.), no doubt believing that he was with the woman and was about to punch his teeth in for staring longer than he should have.

As he scurried off into the back, you turned to him, taken aback at first as you made eye contact with the towering, wet, balaclava-clad man who was staring back at you, but you were brave enough to smile kindly at him, going back to running your finger over the rim of your drink, which Simon noticed was still and hardly drank out of, despite the lipstick smudges around the top. You'd been here a while, and by the way your leg was nervously jumping up and down as time passed by, he could only assume you'd been stood up.

Now, Simon wasn't dumb, far from it; and Simon was smart enough to recognize when someone was attractive, and he was pretty sure that the woman in front of him was drop-dead gorgeous despite the sad look that adorned your features. So, if he was correct, he couldn't even begin to fathom how someone could even start to think of standing up a woman like you, especially after inviting her to this shitty pub, where the food had definitely given him food poisoning before.

He hadn't realised how deep in thought he must have been while staring at your glass until a soft hand rested against his bicep, eyes instantly flashing back towards yours, instincts haywire from having been pulled out from his thoughts so suddenly.

"Sorry!" You immediately retracted your hand from his arm, smiling apologetically up at him before turning your gaze back to the golden liquid. "I asked if you were okay. I can't imagine walking around in a storm with just that on." You gestured towards his shirt, allowing Simon to look down and stare at the tight T-shirt he had chosen to wear, a few dirt stains decorating it in the worst way possible, having dressed for the occasion that was a 10pm trip to Tesco and not meeting up with a pretty woman at a pub.

"Wasn't planning on walking 'round." He grumbled out, his voice deeper than what you had expected, the thick accent and scratchy sound of it making shivers run down your spine and heat pool into your stomach, becoming horrified with yourself that you allowed such a minimal thing like a masked man's voice get you all hot and flustered like this.

"'Nd you? Doesn't seem like you're dressed for a night out at the Crown's." His eyes moved towards your dress, surprised with himself that he had actively been the one to continue the conversation; his thick hand reaching over to grab his drink from the bartender's hand (which he must have ordered during the haze he had been in before.) as he awaited your answer.

"Oh." He watched you smooth down your hair out from the corner of his eye, your hands shaky as they found comfort around the fancy glass of your whiskey. Or was it bourbon? Maybe rum? You seemed like the type of woman to appreciate a good glass of liquor. "Yeah, 'm waiting for someone."

He watched your eyes dart over to the clock hanging on the wall opposite you both, the little hand nearing the number 11.

"Could've taken you somewhere nicer." He commented, taking a jab at both the pub and your missing date, the small breathless chuckle that left your lips catching his attention.

"Yeah. Not like I expected a reservation at the Ritz, but somewhere that doesn't look like my grandad's favourite pub would be nice." You joked over the sound of some of the old men cheering in the background over some team scoring a goal, and while Simon would've normally turned around to make sure it had been Manchester, he was too focused on the mesmerising way your eyes looked in the dim light, your eyelashes fluttering innocently as you continued what had started as small talk, that evolved into friendly conversation and him buying you another drink, and that ended with him waiting for you outside the bathrooms, holding onto your tiny umbrella.

Simon wasn't one to frequent in hook-ups, but how enticing you had been when talking to him, the way your body looked in that dress and how you'd brushed your soft hand against his bicep (this time with another intent other than to snap him out of his stupor), had left him wanting, nay, craving more from you.

So when you looked out the window behind him before gesturing to the small umbrella hanging from your bag and asked if he wanted to take you home, he would have been demented to deny you.

His screen's brightness lit up his face as he scrolled over the scarce messages he had received across the almost 10 years he had had this crappy phone, about to delete Soap's number before you came out, a smile on your face and makeup freshly applied.

"Some girls helped me with my makeup in there." You commented happily, fingertips brushing over the blush that had been applied to the apples of your cheeks, which made you somehow look even more enticing than before. "I didn't have time to look in the mirror, but I hope it looks okay."

"Looks nice on you." He let out after processing your new look, his chest tightening as your smile somehow widened and your eyes brightened, having learned across the few hours you had spent together that Simon wasn't really one to show his emotions towards anyone, so a short compliment like that was a big step.

"You think?" You didn't wait for an answer, your hand finding his and starting to lead him out of the shadowy corner he had taken refuge in while your time in the bathroom, letting him push open the exit door so he could open up the umbrella, not caring about the raindrops falling onto him and darkening his clothes, the rain getting caught onto his eyelashes like morning dew on a spiders web, the beautiful orbs drawing you in like a butterfly happily flying into a spider's nest.

The umbrella was open and poised on top of you before you could even step out of the pub, Simon doing his best so you wouldn't be touched by the rain, aware of how uncomfortable some people got when it came to water running down your back or touching your face (especially when you looked so so pretty with your make-up.). Along with his massive frame walking next to you, you were pretty sure there was no way a single drop of water would touch your skin the whole way back home.

Which ended up being almost silent, you leading the way and commenting on random stores or things you passed, brightening up every time you got a chuckle out of him and melting whenever his hand would wrap around your waist as you passed some creepy man or a suspicious-looking group of teens, pulling you into his side so no one would even think of messing with you.

You were highly aware of how dangerous it was in hindsight to take some random man home (whose face you hadn't even seen yet!), but Simon made you feel safe, special, in some weird way… like as long as you were in his vicinity, nothing could happen to you, nothing could harm you. And you wanted to cling onto that feeling, onto the feeling of protection and warmth that Simon extruded.

So you didn't think twice about it, even as you slipped the key into the front door to your apartment complex and stood next to him the whole elevator ride up to your floor, his hand curled around yours with his thumb rubbing over your knuckles, the soft action enough to make heat pool into your tummy and your panties, getting worked up over casual affection from the breathtaking man.

"Y'sure about this, lovie?" His raspy voice made you fumble with your keys as he came up behind you, watching you struggle to unlock your flat as his breath hit your ear. "Tell me to leave and I will. Last chance."

Your breathing grew shaky as his own warmed your cheek, the way he worded it making it seem like the act you were both about to perform was something akin to letting a beast free, and even if it was, as long as Simon was the one to do it, you would have let him do anything.

"Yes." You managed to get out as your door finally opened, not even getting the time to take a step in before his hands were all over you, pushing you into the apartment and slamming the door closed behind him with his foot, his balaclava somehow being pulled up to his nose, high enough so you could gaze upon his soft pink lips and the blond stubble that adorned his chin and slightly crooked nose, aware that you would have spent hours tracing his features with your eyes, engraving them to memory, but he took away any thoughts away from you as he slotted his lips with yours.

You learned immediately that Simon's kisses were desperate, sloppy, needy. The way his hands gripped at your hips and his teeth nibbled onto your bottom lip, tongue running over yours as he trailed his palms down your thighs onto your feet, wrenching off your heels and ripping apart your tights, ignoring the angered whine that left your lips.

"Easier access, lovie." He murmured against your lips, finally pulling back with a sleazy grin on his lips, a string of spit connecting you both before breaking, allowing you a bit of time to catch your breath while he took in your living room, staring at the doors. "Bedroom?"

"Th- That one-" You hazardly pointed towards one of the doors behind you, squealing out loud as he grabbed you effortlessly and started to carry you towards your room, thighs pressed to his sides and ankles crossed behind his back, making sure to cling onto him so he wouldn't randomly drop you (Although by the way his muscles barely tensed when he had picked you up, and how easily he seemed to navigate around while carrying you made you think that there was no way he'd let you fall.)

Your back finally hit your familiar soft mattress, hands clenching onto your silk sheets as he watched you like a hawk, hands resting on the space of your thighs near your now-dripping cunt, thumbs rubbing into the soft pudge.

"Fuck… Just look t'you." He rumbled out, your cheeks growing warm as he continued to stare without moving, enjoying the way you started to squirm beneath his touch. "Calm, lovie, jus' taking my time wiv' you."

You mewled out at the deep tone his voice took, thighs threatening to close as one of his hands made his way towards your clothed cunt, which had been made accessible thanks to your now-ripped tights that had been left behind in the living room.

Simon forced your thighs back open with a grunt, glassy eyes darkening as he watched your own hands come up to cover your face out of embarrassment, letting himself soak in it for a moment before finally starting to act.

"Lean up f'me." You obeyed immediately, trembling under his touch as he slowly pulled your dress off, letting it pool onto the floor along with his shirt, which he had quickly gotten rid of as soon as you were in your lingerie. His eyes roamed the lace for a moment before letting out a dry chuckle, looking up at you to find you ogling at his scarred chest, almost drooling at the sight of his well built pecs and stomach. "Tryin' to get lucky tonight?" He spoke, fingers snapping your bra strap, thinking back to why you were originally at that pub in the first place.

"Shut up." You grumbled, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him up the bed so you could continue kissing him, having been left craving more ever since that breathtaking one in the foyer.

He didn't complain, quickly indulging you as he slotted his lips with yours once again, his kiss as sloppy as needy as before, openly moaning against them as your hands run under his balaclava to pull at the short strands of his coarse hair, his own hands wrapping your thighs around his waist so your clothed pussy could grind against the hard material of his trousers over his hardened cock, rejoicing in the way your moans and whines sounded as he drank them up.

"S'needy." He chastised softly as he pulled away, moving you both towards the top of the bed so you could rest your head on your pillows, catching your breath while he started slipping off his belt and trousers (the belt being placed on the bed, just in case), and letting you gaze upon the tent in his boxers, shivering at the monstrous sight of his cock, trying to imagine how in the living fuck would he fit inside you if he couldn't even fit properly in his boxers, pulling out a moan from your lipstick smudged lips at the simple thought of being fucked by such a tool.

"Like it?" He chuckled, slowly starting to lean down with his hands on your thighs, pulling one of them over his shoulder so he was face to face with your covered cunt, his breath warm as it hit your clit, making you whine. "Gunna let me have a taste?"

"Y-Yes, god, yes, Simon, please-" You breathed out all at once, desperate for his touch after the slow teasing, watching what was visible of his face scrunch up in mock laughter as he revelled in your whines.

"As you wish, lovie."

He didn't even bother pushing your panties aside before taking a lick of your cunt from bottom to top, pressing soft kisses to your clit to hear your desperate whines and feel your thighs shake beneath his touch, continuing to slowly make out with your clothed pussy, purposefully driving you insane with his limited touches.

"Off, off, pl-please, Si, please -" You whined, pushing his head away in an attempt to start to pull your panties down, crying out in frustration as he didn't budge, a growl leaving his lips and sending vibrations up your cunt.

"Don't touch. I'm taking my fucking time, pretty. Or would you rather me stick my cock into you without any prep?" You moaned out loudly at the thought, back threatening to arch as he slowly grasped at your panties, a humourless chuckle leaving his pretty lips. "Yeah, I bet your slutty pussy'd love that, wouldn't it, lovie?" He purred before finally sliding down your pants, taking a moment to stare at your cunt and let you squirm before slowly spreading your thighs again, immediately shoving his face into his prize and repeating his movements from before, but faster and rougher, letting you feel every inch of his tongue as it ran over your lips and slowly inched inside of your hole, your moans and silent screams only edging him further on until he took your engorged clit into his mouth and started sucking, placing a hand on your stomach and pushing your arching back down onto the mattress.

He was surprised, to say the least. Yes, he'd realised you were sensitive as soon as he had kissed you for the first time, but he hadn't expected you to almost burst into tears from being eaten out (He wasn't even /trying/ to make you cry, he wondered what would happen if he did.), so he wondered if all the men you'd been with before had gone down on you, but by the way you were reacting to such simple touches, he was pretty sure he knew the answer.

"So fuckin' sweet, baby." He murmured into your pussy as he let go of your swollen clit, giving your hole some attention as the hand that was on your tummy ran down to circle your clit, overstimulating you in the best way possible. "Taste like fuckin' heaven."

"Si- Simon-" you whined his name out so so sweetly, music to the normally cold lieutenant's ears. "Gonn- Fuuuck! 'Na cum! Please, please, Si, need to-"

"S'okay, let go for me, lovie." He basically purred into you as he continued licking contently at your gushing hole, fingers tactically rubbing on your clit, before changing spots, taking your clit back into his mouth and letting his fingers slip in to you, preening at the sweet gasp that left your lips at the sudden intrusion, his coarse fingers moving in and out and immediately finding that one spot that made your back arch and toes curl, and just as he was taught in the military, he took advantage of the weak spot (in this case, your sweet spot.) and didn't stop brushing his fingers against it, the increasing sound of his name alerting him of your upcoming orgasm.

And once the coil within your stomach snapped and Simon finally let your back arch of the bed, your release gushing out of you and coating his hand and wrist, you let out the loudest moan of his name, the sound immediately going to his painfully hard cock, but he didn't stop, tongue not ceasing its assault on your clit and fingers continuing to rub against your g-spot until you finally came down from your high, brain mushy and eyes glassy as you stared up at the cream ceiling.

"Such a good girl." He purred out as he finally stopped, retracting his wet fingers and taking them into his mouth, swirling his tongue around and cleaning off all of the slick you had left from your orgasm, savouring it like he would with a lollipop. "Fuckin' taste amazing."

You whined in response, the embarrassment from having cummed so fast and having to watch him lick up all your release finally catching up to you, shaky hands moving to cover your sweaty face.

He clicked his tongue, grabbing them before they could cover your pretty features and holding them together in one hand.

"No, baby. Don't want you fuckin' hiding f'me." He snapped, slowly pulling them upwards so that they were pinned against the headboard, his other hand moving to gather the belt he had discarded not so long ago, quickly taking advantage of your cum-lax state to wrap it around your wrists, making sure it was tight enough to constrict you, but not tight enough to hurt, and letting you lie there while he started on getting rid of his boxers. "Wanna see that pretty face while you come undone on my cock. Isn't that what y'want too?"

You tried moving your head to nod, but it felt so so heavy that even the slightest movement felt like a chore, feeling grateful that Simon was a man able to move you around and dominate you without even breaking sweat, that all you needed to do was lie back and enjoy everything he gave you.

"Fuckin' hell. Not even fucked ya yet and you're 'lready gone?" He sneered, coming to hover over you so he could press wet kisses to your cheeks and neck, purposefully avoiding your lips. "Pretty girl gets her pussy played wiv and turns into a right proper slut, don' she?" He purred against your neck, his words making you shiver and squirm as your body instinctively tried to move away from the stimulus, only for him to pull you back towards him with grubby hands, a loud gasp leaving your lips as he pressed your crotches together, having expected the soft cotton of his boxers and not the hard, hot feeling of his cock flush against your dripping pussy.

"Oh- Oh my god, Simon, th-"

"Mm." He cut you off with a soft purr and a nip to your jugular, no doubt making sure that you'd wake up in purple marks the next morning as he did the same all over your neck. "'S me. All me, lovie. F'you."

You moaned at the implication, slowly starting to grind yourself against him as he made it his personal mission to cover your upper body in kisses, stopping at your clavicle and staring down at your bra, that was still to be taken off.

"Fuck, forgot all 'bout these." His hand came up to squeeze one of them softly, a small sound of pleasure leaving your lips at the added stimulation as you continued to rub your cunt against his hardened cock. "Pretty little things."

He started grinding his own hips against yours, watching with amazement at how quickly you reacted to his touch, your back arching enough for him to slip his hands behind and unclasping your bra suspiciously easy, pulling it off and throwing it behind him and landing god knows where, and leaving you finally completely bare beneath him.

"Look t'you." His warm hands immediately cupped your tits, thumb and pointer rubbing your nipples between them, pinching and pulling until they were hard, an amazed chuckle leaving his lips as he listened to your moans increase in sound, his grinding against you not ceasing either.

"Oh fuck- fuck fuck!" It was embarrassing, how quickly he had you whining and mewling beneath him, when you had found yourself struggling before to even feel something with men before him doing the same. It was just something about him, something about the way he sounded and touched, the precise movements against you, almost like he had been trained for your pleasure, to get you over the edge as many times as he could muster before even getting his dick wet.

Because the instant you felt his warm breath hit one of your perky breasts, you knew you were fucked, headed towards your second orgasm of the night. His warm mouth enveloped your hard nipple, pulling and tugging with his teeth and soothing the slight pain he left with his talented tongue, his grinding becoming quicker and rougher as he felt your thighs tremble around his waist, your eyes watering as you neared the release you oh so craved, gasping out loud as one of his hands came up to cup your cheek, thumb rubbing over your flushed skin.

"You gunna cry, baby? S'okay, let it out. Let it out f'me." He growled as he let go of your now throbbing nipple, moving to give your other neglected breast the same attention, hand leaving your face to run down to your core and slowly run over your clit, a huge contrast to the rough movements of his cock against you and his warm mouth on your nipple, all the different stimulations and feelings enough to push you over the edge and let the tears that had been collecting in your waterline finally fall, gasping moans and screams leaving your lips as you soaked his cock, body trembling beneath his ministrations as he chuckled against your nipple, enjoying the way you were slowly falling apart and he hadn't even pushed into you yet.

He didn't stop for a few moments, waiting until the moment where you would inevitably start whining and pushing him off with weak arms to cease, leaning back up with a shit eating grin as he waited for you to come down from your high.

"Oi, look at me." He taps one of his fingers on your face, moving your gaze towards his, a small, patronising pout tugging at his lips as he watches the tears roll down your cheeks. "Poor thing. You all fucked out yet? D'you think y'could still take my cock? Or are you too dumb f'that right now?"

"Y-yes, yes, please, please, need it so bad, Si! So so bad!" You stuttered out between laboured breaths, hands struggling against their binding, itching to be let free and feel his cock in your hands, which you could see between you, almost as girthy as a coke can and with a few prominent veins leading up to his flushed red tip, that was leaking pre spend you would gladly pay money to clean up with your tongue. "O-oh fuck, Simon, please -"

"Sh, shh. Calm down, y'little crybaby." He chastised, leaning down to softly press kisses over the tears that had gathered on your flushed cheeks, chuckling at how desperate you looked under him. "I'll give you what you want. Gon' fuck you so well, yeah? You'll feel me f'weeks, lovie."

"Fuck, yes, please! Want your cock so badly, please!" You cried, legs immediately spreading for him as soon as his calloused hands landed on the pudge of your thighs, slightly digging his fingers into them as he took in the beautiful sight of your soaking wet pussy, having half the mind to shove his cock in you without a second thought. But no.

"Calm." He snapped, one of his hands dropping your thighs and slapping your face softly to get your attention. "Protection, baby. You got a condom?"

He frowned as you shook your head, gasping for breath as you pointed over to your nightstand, where he could faintly see the glint of a packet of tablets in the dark. "Pill. 'M on the pill, Si. Clean. I'm clean."

He couldn't help the smile that crept onto his lips at the thought of being able to cum inside, and how eager you were acting to get him to finally stick his cock inside, whines and whimpers pulling him from his thoughts as he stared down at you.

"You going to let me cum inside then, lovie?" He teased, pulling your other thigh back up so the underside of both of them were resting flush against his bare chest, twitching cock resting on your overstimulated core. "Don' think I'm gonna be able to pull out."

"Don't want you to, fuck! Please, Simon, please!! Inside, want you to cum inside!"

A shiver racked through his body at your words, carefully letting one of your legs go and making sure it would stay there, wrapping around it to grab his cock, slowly sliding the head around your puffy lips to collect the slick, wanting the intrusion to be as painless as possible.

"Fuck… Alright, baby, alright. Breathe f'me." He whispered, letting the head of his cock press against your hole, telling himself to go slow and calm down, but by the way you were pulsing and clenching around the head, almost like you were pulling him in, made it hard to stay sane. "God, slutty lil' cunt's just swallowing me in, huh? Want this cock that bad?"

Your hands shook against their restraint as he started to push himself into your sopping hole, wanting nothing more than to grab onto something for stability, but you didn't want to risk him getting annoyed at you for trying to.

"S'okay, almost there." He mumbled, lying straight through his teeth because with one look down to where he was connected to it would prove that he wasn't even halfway in, and it was already proving difficult for your hole to accommodate to his massive size.

"S'big, Si, you're so biiig." You whined, spreading your legs slightly and pushing your body onto him to help, shivering as you could feel him start throbbing inside of you, no doubt needing his own climax after having spent so much time focusing on you.

You could feel your eyes start to flutter close, mouth dropping open as he finally bottomed out, his heavy balls flush against your ass and cock throbbing inside of you, taking a breather and letting you adjust to his size before he would start on his ruthless pace.

"Fuck, lovie, you droolin'?" He panted, a hand coming up to rest against your face and pull you out of your sex-drunk haze (Despite only getting his cock inside you now.), your eyes drowning in his crystal ones, hypnotised by his gaze as he used his thumb to rub away some of the drool that had dribbled down your chin. "Pretty girl finally gets some cock and turns into a drooling slut, huh?"

You let out a noise of complaint as your hands continued to struggle, the few coarse hairs that were peeking out from under his mask enough to make you want to bury your fingers in them, pull at his strands and dig your nails into his scalp as he rocked your world.

He seemed to to understand what you wanted, a chuckle leaving his swollen lips as he leaned over you, legs folding along with him and allowing him to reach a deeper point in your cunt you didn't know that existed, a loud moan escaping you as his calloused hands start undoing the belt, finally letting your wrists free and throwing the piece of leather away, his hands going back to holding onto one of your thighs and another gripping your waist.

"All yours, baby. All fuckin' yours."

He gave you a moment to react as he bottomed out, leaving you empty for a split moment before he slammed back in, cock head almost instantly hitting that sweet spot deep inside you, your hands immediately finding refuge on his shoulders, nails digging into the scarred skin as he repeated his ruthless thrusts, your body shaking beneath his as he pushed down onto your body, forcing you both into a mating press, your cunt tightening around his cock at the sight of his eyes rolling into the back of his head, tummy fluttering at the thought that he was enjoying this as much as you were.

"Fuck, so good, Simon! So fucking good!" Your hands trailed up to the nape of his neck and pulled at the few short hairs there, urging a growl out of him and causing him to slightly speed up, the head of his cock at this point abusing your g-spot, urging you to near your third orgasm. "Wan- Wanna cum, fuck, gonna cum, Simon!"

"Already, baby?" He spoke through bated breath, his stamina allowing him to keep a good and consistent pace, enough to please both of you and almost bring you to tears again. "That's okay, cum for me, lovie. Cum on my fucking cock, show me how much of a fucking whore you are f'me."

Your back arched, pressing your breasts to his sweaty chest, the extra stimulation from your nipples rubbing against his coarse skin finally pushing you over the edge, your cunt clamping down on his cock and making it near impossible for him to continue thrusting, but as the good soldier Simon was, he persisted, rutting into you with bared teeth and a clenched jaw, fucking you through your orgasm until your slick covered his balls and upper thighs.

"Good girl, good fucking girl." He rasped, hand moving from your waist up to your neck, giving an experimental squeeze and moaning as you clenched around him, a breathless chuckle leaving him. "Fuck, you're still clenchin' around me so nicely, love. Feel so fuckin' good, perfect lil' pussy all f'me..."

Simon was saying nonsense at this point, becoming near pussy drunk as his cock hammered into your puffy cunt, nearing his own peak after all the foreplay.

"Si- Simon-!" You keened, hands running under his mask to grasp at his hair properly, pulling at it to coax another guttural moan from him and leading him back down to engage in a messy kiss, teeth clanking together and spit being shared, feeling the desperation he was in as he continued to batter your pussy searching for his own orgasm. "Cum, please, please, cum inside!"

Simon's eyes rolled into the back of his head at your begging, eyelashes fluttering as his pace stuttered inside of you, cockhead pressing against the entrance to your cervix and finally going over the edge, his spend gushing into you and almost immediately filling you, his cock acting like a plug inside you.

"O-oh, fuuck…" He moaned out, voice going slightly high pitched as he relished in the euphoria of finishing inside of you, his nails leaving ten moon shaped indents on your hips, the pain nothing compared to the feeling of him finally fucking his spend into you, you'd have to worry about the inevitable bruises and marks in the morning before work. "Fuck, you're… fuck."

Simon lowered himself down, resting his sweaty balaclava-clad face on your shoulder as you both caught your breaths, his cock twitching inside of you as he rode the waves of his orgasm.

Your eyes were blown out, staring up at the ceiling as you were hit with a sudden wave of realisation, your brain finally catching up with your body and taking in everything that had just happened, especially the fact that you had allowed some masked man you'd met at a pub on a tinder date to ravage you like a starved animal.

"Oh my god." You said, voice wavering as you shivered beneath the mountain of a man, who's sweaty body was pressed flush to yours, his cock softening inside of you as you both started to sober up. "O-Oh my god, Simon."

He let out a moan against your skin, languidly thrusting one final time into you before slowly pulling out, peeling himself off of you and letting the cold air envelop your now-shivering body, the feeling of his warm cum dripping down your puffy cunt pulling out another broken whine from your lips.

"Look at that…" You tried moving away as Simon ran a finger down your spent hole, gathering his cum best he could before slowly shoving it back into you, clicking his tongue at your reaction before leaning down and pressing a final kiss to your clit, the loud cry that left you making him smile almost predatorily. "So, so pretty, baby."

Your eyelids fluttered closed as you felt the bed shift beneath Simon's moving weight, allowing you time to set your head on straight and think about the next words that were going to come out of your mouth (That weren't strangled moans of the blond's name and jumbled cries about how good he felt.) while he moved around, no doubt getting his discarded clothes so he could slip away into the night.

"...leavin'?" You finally mustered out, letting your head fall to a side so you could watch him pick up his boxers and slip them on, his balaclava fixed into place like it had been when you met him, leaving you to stare into his mysterious blue eyes, the only gateway into the man who had just finished ravishing you.

"..." He turned to look at you over his shoulder, eyes trailing over your shivering frame as he fought internally over your words.

Ghost knew that it would be dangerous to stay, to indulge in your touch and show himself to you in one of his most vulnerable states. He didn't know you outside of the few hours he had spent with you, and even with that, it wasn't enough for Ghost to let his guard down around you.

Simon wanted to stay, he wanted to climb back into bed and let you curl into his side, let his warm hands run up and down your warm skin like he had done while pleasuring you, listen to your snores and even breathing. And despite probably not being able to fall asleep himself, Simon knew that it would be one of the few tranquil nights of his life.

So despite Ghost's alarming protests ringing in his head, Simon slowly made his way into the empty spot of your bed next to you, the covers soft and cool against his heated skin, soothing the raging fire that seemed to boil inside of him at the mere sight of you, his large arms wrapping around you and pulling you towards his side of the bed.

As soon as your bare body made contact with his, you melted like ice cream on a hot day, curling into his side and allowing him to wrap his tattooed arm around you, calloused hands running up and down your sides, taking his sweet time memorising every curve and dip of your body as you rested your head onto his chest, ear pressed right above his rapidly beating heart.

Not one word was exchanged between you both the whole time you lied together, his fingers tracing every little nook and cranny of your skin he could find, stopping every once in a while to rub on a tense muscle or over a scar, the soft ministrations swiftly lulling you to sleep.

The hand that you had splayed on his chest was mimicking his movements, fingers running over the blond hair that adorned his chest, playing with the small cross that dangled from the small chain necklace around his neck. Every time his hand would come up to rub at your shoulders, you caught a peak at the many tattoos that sleeved his arm, and as much as you wanted to turn around and commit all of them to memory, every time you tried to move, he'd press you closer, as if he knew that if he did allow you to, you'd only put off sleeping for longer.

As your eyelids started drooping, you felt his other hand come up to rest over your smaller one, toughened fingers intertwining with your own softer ones, a tired smile forming at your lips before finally clocking out, his heartbeat a firm rhythm that pulled you further and further into the soft grasp of Hypnos.

As expected, Simon didn't sleep a wink.

He had tried to close his eyes and enjoy the warmth you radiated, trying his best to let your soft snores and murmurs lull him to sleep, but it was impossible.

Despite not having slept for more than two days, he was unable to fall asleep, on edge after the catastrophe that was his last mission.

That was one of the reasons he had decided to step out of his comfort zone and allow himself a night of indulgence with you, a night of letting himself go and take out all his anger on you, but he had been impuissant to hurt you or even come close to actually wound you, instead taking it as slow as he knew how to and muttering soft praises and sweet nicknames into your ear along with the degradation that he'd mixed in.

And even after tiring himself out, he still couldn't let himself fully relax.

But as he turned his head to look down at your sleeping face, he thought that maybe this wasn't so bad. He felt… at ease, for the first time in a while. No strident alarms to wake him up at the crack of dawn, no ringing in his ears as a grenade went off near him, no desperately patching up a wound and drenching his hands in blood, no screams and pleas of mercy reverberating around his head as he disposed of the enemy.

None of that. It was just you. With your body curled into his side and your soft skin beneath a killer's hands.

Which is why he wished he could stay there forever. Lock the door and have you in his arms for the rest of his life, without the paranoia and the horrors that followed him everywhere he went, only focus on you and how mushy you made him feel with only a few hours of knowing him.

Which is why he wished he could have just fallen asleep and ignored the vibrations that came from beneath his discarded clothes, that he didn't leave your side and pick up the phone, that he hadn't followed orders like he always did and hadn't left you alone.

He carefully tucked you in, making his side of the bed before hesitantly brushing his scarred knuckles against your flushed cheeks, an alternative to the kiss he oh-so wanted to press down onto you until you woke up, until you asked him to stay, until he caved in and left the 141 to fend for themselves.

But he didn't.

He closed the door to your bedroom, slipped his phone and keys back into his pockets and headed towards the front door, ready to leave you behind and go back to being Ghost.

But as his hand reached for the doorknob, his eyes caught onto a stack of fluorescent yellow sticky notes on the kitchen counter, and in a stroke of not so genius, he grabbed the nearest pen and scribbled down his number onto the piece of paper, signing it with a simple "S .", hoping that you'd deduce it was from him, and not from some random person whose name started with the letter S that had broken into your apartment just to give you their number.

He stuck it a bit too aggressively to the almost bare fridge, making sure it was in a visible spot that you wouldn't be able to miss before finally stepping out of your flat, adjusting his mask in the elevator's mirror and going back to the cold hearted killer his fellow soldiers knew as Ghost.

He'd expected it to be a short mission.

One that they'd be able to finish within two weeks at best so he could go back to his cramped flat in Manchester and hopefully get back to you.

He'd spent almost every day of the first week of his departure wondering if you'd found the note, if when he'd retrieve his phone back from his locker back at base, he'd find a few messages from an unknown number he hoped was yours, asking him how he was, asking him to meet up again, wondering if he was okay…

That's what mostly kept him going for the first few days.

Until it all went haywire.

The mission escalated quickly into a mess of soldiers and betrayals, flying from place to place and taking more lives with his bare hands than he had ever before.

Blood soaked his hands in a way it never had, the toll of deaths on his name increasing with every passing day, week, month, year.

When the mission that had started off as something simple, something Ghost couldn't even remember, ended after a year, the 141 couldn't be more relieved. And exhausted.

They'd fought for many months straight, barely finding places to get a wink of sleep, and sometimes even running out of food while they camped out in one of the dingy safe houses of whatever city they were currently stranded in.

But it was finally over. Their target had been disposed of and any enemy that remained had either been eliminated or had scurried off.

As the chopper brought them back to base, none of them said a word, even Johnny refrained from making any jokes, knowing that it would only piss off both of his superiors and maybe get a tired chuckle out of Gaz.

Price uttered a "Good job." to all of them before patting them on the shoulder and going to his office, no doubt ready to go back home and have the sleep of his life.

The two sergeants withheld from talking too much to their lieutenant, murmuring a goodbye to him before going their own way, Ghost not even bothering to answer, too mentally and physically exhausted to even open his mouth to speak.

The first thing he did once he reached his locker was throw the goddamn mask off, letting the plastic skull clatter against the tiles as he rummaged through his belongings, wanting nothing more than to get into some clean clothes and go back home, where he would drink away the horrors that would no doubt follow him and probably pass out watching reruns of football games he had missed.

The clothes he had worn the day before the mission were tighter, accentuating the change in his physique after putting his muscles to work for a whole year, the seams of his trousers digging uncomfortably into his legs, his pockets full of random junk he had left in there.

He fished for whatever was currently pressing against his backside, pulling out his small phone from the pocket, frowning down at the gadget, which was no doubt out of battery after being left for so long.

Simon was pleasantly surprised when the screen brightened, showing his black lock screen and the time, the battery hanging onto dear life with a 1%. He moved to grab his charger, his eyes still trained on the incoming notifications that would soon flood his home screen, not really expecting much aside from the emails entailing rubbish deals or the occasional spam from a porn site he'd signed up to as a teen and hadn't been able to delete.

Instead, he was bombarded with over a thousand notifications at once, all from the same unknown number, the messages going too quickly for his tired eyes, focusing on the random words he was able to take from the rapidly passing texts.

‍

Answer.

Ignoring.

Asshole.

Appointment.

Doctor.

Pub.

Baby.

Pregnancy.

‍‍

His mind blocked itself off as he processed the last word, trying to make sense of all the confusing messages that had been sent to his phone.

Had it been by accident? Was he the recipient of some prank? Had he unknowingly given out his number to someo-

You.

Simon's throat went dry as the realisation dawned on him. Without sparing another second, he unlocked his phone, clicking onto the notifications and scrolling down as fast he could while still intaking information, afraid that his phone would die out at any point in time and render him utterly confused and terrified.

His body went on autopilot the more he read, brain fuzzy as if he had just drank a whole bottle of hard-hitting liquor, his eyes fixed on the bright screen of his phone in terror.

He was in shock. His mind wasn't in the right state to process any of this, he wasn't able to properly begin to fathom the meaning behind your words, as simple as they were.

‍

— I'm pregnant.

— I'm fucking pregnant, Simon.

— I don't know how it happened, the chances of the pill failing are so fucking low, and of course it happened to us.

‍

— Please pick up.

— I know you're getting the messages.

‍

— The doctor told me it's too dangerous to perform the abortion.

— I have to keep it or risk my life.

‍

— I need you to answer, Simon. Please, I just need to know that you're there.

— I'm scared.

‍

— You're such an asshole, you know that, right?! Fucking gave me your number only to disappear? Left me pregnant with your bloody kid!? And you can't even bother to pick up the goddamn phone.

‍

— Fuck you.

‍

— …

— It's a boy. Thought you'd want to know.

‍

— My due date is in a month. Please… call me, if you're even reading these. I don't want to be alone.

‍

The phone flashed the low power message in hopes that Simon would take mercy on it and finally plug it in, but Simon paid it no mind, clear eyes staring down at the picture you'd attached during one of the first months of your pregnancy.

The blurry picture of an ecography staring back at him disproved any doubts that might have formed in his mind, your full name displayed at the bottom along with the date it was taken, solidifying the fact even more.

It was real. This was real. You'd been carrying his son for 9 months, sending him frantic and terrified messages all throughout the three trimesters in hopes that he'd answer, all the while he had forgotten all about you in the midst of his mission, while you probably didn't spend a single day of that year not thinking about him.

His phone went dark once it finally had enough, leaving him standing there with a dry throat and shaky hands.

It was rare for Ghost to feel fear, but not for Simon. His throat would contract with every breath, his nose would sting as tears threatened to form on his waterline, his hands would get shaky until he balled them up and threw a punch into whatever item was closest.

This time wasn't any different. He punched his locker door, denting the metal effortlessly as he tried to wash away the fear and guilt creeping up to him with the pain that bloomed at his knuckles, that ran up his arms like electric shocks until they went numb.

He was an asshole.

Simon knew that it wasn't his fault that the mission had been extended for way too long, but he kept thinking back to the moment he'd placed his number on your fridge, wondering what would have happened if he'd done the smart thing and added that he'd be unavailable for a while, but that he'd get back to you. Maybe you would have been less scared while going through the pregnancy, comforted by the thought that he hadn't been ignoring you, but he knew that even then, you would have gone through it alone and terrified.

"I'm an asshole."

He rested his head against the dented locker, the cool metal soothing the headache that had quickly formed after all the conflicting feelings that had rushed through him in the matter of a minute.

All he had wanted was to go back home and rest, but fuck him if he was going to be able to even close his eyes after learning he was a father.

He packed everything up as quickly as he could, not bothering to say goodbye or join the other three for a drink at a pub, heading to his car so he could get the fuck out of London and back to Manchester, where he prayed you still lived, in that tiny flat near that dingy pub where he had first laid eyes on you in.

As his gloved hands gripped the steering wheel hard enough to turn his knuckles white, a terrifying thought struck him.

Who's to say you had even kept the baby?

Who's to say you couldn't bear to look at the baby, that you'd given him away to a way more functional family?

The thought inflicted fear in him, a type of fear he didn't know if he should be feeling or not, confused with all the unpleasant emotions swirling inside of him.

"God, fuck!" He slammed his hands onto the steering wheel, the roar he had let out no doubt scaring any civilian that had been walking near his car at the time, but he couldn't care less.

All that was important now was getting back to you, to what he hoped was still the mother of his son.

Happy giggles and gurgles filled the living room, your tiny baby outstretching his arms out as you cycled his legs slowly, making silly faces down at him to keep him distracted.

Your doctor had recommended small exercises like these, some that would help develop his future motor skills, but you'd found that Tommy was a curious baby, one that couldn't stay still for longer than five minutes before he was whining and huffing in a futile attempt to get your attention and hopefully release him from his tiny prison; and so, in order to keep him focused, you resorted to having leisured conversations with him, your small son hanging onto your every word with wide blue eyes and a gaping mouth, as if he could understand your frustrations with the man who had blocked your car off and the girl from the bakery that had gotten your order wrong, or making silly faces at him to hear him giggle with glee.

You placed his small feet down and went back to your resting face, his eyes instantly going from your face to the closest toy, small chubby arm reaching out to grab it, your fingers running over his tummy and getting out a few giggles out of him before he finally grasped the toy, pressing it into his side.

As he distracted himself, you let yourself sit down properly, back hitting the edge of the sofa as you watched your son roll around on the blanket you'd laid down, letting yourself look up at the TV for a moment to have a small break, the news reporter standing in front of Big Ben ranting about some resolved political dispute or something.

Your eyes trailed back down to your son, who was wriggling around with a new toy in his grasp, cooing and drooling as he stared up at the ceiling, blue eyes fixed on one of the many cracks in the ceiling.

You winced at the not so friendly reminder of the state your flat was in. Going through a pregnancy on your own without any help and barely any money to take care of yourself left your home in a condition you were not proud of. You'd tried your best to clean and make the nursery as cosy as possible, but at the end of your third trimester you could barely lean down to pick up the hoover. Once you had been allowed back home, you'd cleaned up, but you couldn't really do much to fix the poor way your building had been constructed.

A sigh left your lips, leaning down to rest your head against your knees with closed eyes, giving yourself a few moments of sacred rest, something you seldom got anymore those days.

Sometimes, you thought as you wrapped your arms around your legs, you wished you weren't alone. As much hate you had harboured for your son's father across the year, you couldn't help the longing that still filled you every time you thought about him, wondering if you'd ever see him again, if he'd ever hold his son in his arms.

Frustrated tears filled the corners of your eyes, wiping them away with your sleeves before turning your attention back to your son, who was now squirming in his spot making grabby hands at you.

"I've got you, duck, don't worry." You cooed, picking him up and pressing a few kisses to his chubby cheeks, cradling him to your chest as you got up from the floor, careful to not drop him or bump him into anything.

As you took him back to his room, routinely changing his diaper and clothes, you thought back to the small breakdown you almost had had a few minutes ago, letting out an exhausted sigh. There was no use in imagining a future where Simon fit in, you'd given him enough time to answer, to show any signs of life at all. You were alone.

You were on the verge of tears as you placed Tommy in his tiny crib, handing him the small duck plushie your grandma had knitted a few months back when she had come to visit, watching him cling onto it in his sleep for a few moments, his soft breaths and coos tranquillising the waves of anxiety threatening to drown you.

"Good night, Tom." You whispered, pressing a kiss to his chubby cheek before flicking on the night light, carefully closing the door and resting your body against it, a shaky sigh leaving your chapped lips.

God, you were pathetic. Hung up over a man who you'd only known for a few hours, who'd left you with a baby (unknowingly or not, didn't matter), who still haunted your dreams every time you tried to get some rest. Why couldn't he have just picked up the phone? Why had he just given you his fucking number if he wasn't bothering on answering? Why had he gotten into your head so easily, with his sweet nicknames and soft kisses? Why couldn't you just fucking mov-

Your whole body jumped as the shrill doorbell rang, the sound reverberating around the flat and no doubt reaching Tommy's sensitive ears.

"God, yeah, I hear it!" You cried out as the sound didn't stop, starting to get worried that it would wake your baby up and then you'd have to deal with putting him to sleep all over again. "Fuck! I know, I'm coming!"

You looked through the peephole, eyebrows furrowing as you gazed upon a man's tacky army jacket instead of the normal face, so either this guy was incredibly fucking tall or he was standing on a stool.

Knowing that the area you lived in wasn't the safest, you unlocked the door but kept the chain latch on, a gap big enough so you could see the guy outside but not big enough for him to attack you.

"What?" You snapped, a bit harsher than how you'd normally answer the door, but this guy didn't really deserve any respect after how he'd basically abused your doorbell to the point of the sound still ringing in your ears. "What do you-"

Your gaze had been fixed onto his chest, scanning the army jacket you had spied through the peephole, cringing internally at the Union Jack plastered on his left bicep, hoping to God that he wasn't some type of Tory propagandist going door to door. But as your eyes trailed up to meet his, your mouth went dry.

Crystal blue eyes framed by pretty blonde eyelashes (identical to the blue eyes your son had been staring up at you with for the past three months), contrasting with the black face paint that was smeared around his eyes, the rest of his face obscured by that damn skull balaclava that haunted you.

It was him. It was fucking him.

"Simon." You said his name breathlessly, not missing the way his body stiffened at your shaky tone.

"Yeah. It's me."

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

some people see my big power chair & my disabled ass and their brain immediately stop thinking i stg

if there is a double door. and one door is already opened via automatic door button. and you’re (general you) standing in the opened door space. i need you to move out of the way instead of open another fucking door for me.

or like. if you’re trying to open a door for me. but your body is literally blocking the door frame. like this.

[id: a very simple stick drawing of the scenario above. end id]

are you trying to make me run over your toes??

me & my chair can’t squeeze by you or under your arm.

bonus point if there’s an automatic door opening button that i already pressed or am about to press.

the amount of times i press the automatic door opening button, the door is literally mid opening, and then someone

a) runs up and holds the door up for me anyway

b) holds open the other unopened door (if it’s a double door)

is astounding

i promise if you see a power chair user and don’t “help” them your body won’t spontaneously combust

[radiostranger]

supernatural finale first time watch thoughts:

THE DOG IS BACK YES

sam would be a jogger idk it makes so much sense

“HOT! bread”

dean is so me attempting to clean

honestly i could watch a whole season of this domestic shit just add castiel back in and id be content

no dean. don’t “got something”please don’t “got something”

oh it’s a pie fest. carry on (badum ch)

cas mention :’)

oh no it’s the barn i know what’s coming i hate it dean pls drive away

and you know what?? WHAT IF THAT NINJA STAR HAD SAVED DEANS LIFE SAM HM?? LET HIM HAVE HIS NINJA STAR

this looks like the lazarus rising barn🤧

i see the rusty nail i see it and i hate it

who the fuck is jenny

oh no here it comes

“i always looked up to you” “i’m so proud of you” “i cant do this without you. i don’t want to” and what if i spontaneously combusted rn hm? what then?

i hate this show. no one look at me.

is rufus married to …. aretha… franklin ?? am i dumb or is that what they were insinuating

CAS HELPED ??? CAS. HELPED????? IS HE ALIVE ??? HOW DID HE GET OUT OF THE EMPTY I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS

THE ORIGINAL LICENSE PLATE

the blurry woman™️ is eileen bc i said so. them not showing her at all in the last two episodes was cruel

WHAT TUE FUCK IS THAT WIG

i deserve reimbursement for having to watch that

oh what hi jensen and jared and crew 🤠

andddd cut :(

final thoughts: okay as much as i don’t love that ending and it felt kinda cheap and not great writing wise it’s not assssss awful as i expected from the way people talk about it but also i don’t have the background of watching the show for 15 years. plus i knew most of the spoilers so it’s hard to say what i actually would have thought if i saw it the way intended. main takeaways:

1. wtf did castiel not show up in heaven hm ??

2. i’m pissed they didn’t include at least a tiny mention of eileen :( all that set up for her and sam relationship just for her to die, presumably be brought back to life but not even mentioned??

3. i need fix it fics. immediately.

[whydohumansss]

Imagine brothers best friend! Gojo

content warning ig? - underage drinking nothing more i think lemme know if i missed something

P.S-there may be spelling mistakes and other stuff not proof read really random idea not a writer just procrastinating

you're Geto's sister golden child ,smart kid, gifted knows three languages and a med student perfect child having a secret life no one knows you go to clubs with your friends YOU out of all people have a fake ID get drunk so one time you drank too much your friends don't call your parents and they don't want to call your brother because they know how much you want him to respect you and know your brother disapproval would kill you so they call the next best option his best friend

Gojo was hanging out with Geto it was already quite late you were supposed be at a "study group" you go every saturday night so imagine Gojo's surprise when he gets a call from you of all people he answers it thankfully Geto doesn't notice and he picks it your friend explaining the situation and specially mentions not to say anything to your brother so Gojo makes an excuse to leave confused on how YOU of all people got into this situation

brothers best friend! Gojo drives to the club finds you standing outside looking a bit ashamed but still tipsy enough to not care too much. God you look ethereal he's never seen you in these types of clothes and it has him feeling some type of way you get into the car first thing you say to him is to not tell your brother he realizes you don't believe him and them you do the most unexpected thing in that situation as you tear up a little and ask pinky promise? his eyes widen as he trying to make sure you don't start full on crying so he lifts up his pinky and interlocks it with yours and says yes yes pinky promise now please don't cry you immediately cheer your mood doing a complete 180 and Gojo thinks the way you're acting is so cute

he starts driving though he's not sure where to because he would break his promise if he took you back to your home then your parents would find out too and it starts becoming a bit difficult to concentrate because you keep staring at him with your pretty eyes he's on the verge of combusting he asks why you keep staring you reply you're just too pretty 'toru you say oh god his name on your tongue sounds so right up until now you've only addressed him by his last name though he insists its ok to call him by his first and finally hearing you call him by not only his first name but a nickname makes him almost melt on the spot and on top of all of that you called him pretty he's dying here spare him would you

that night in the car when you guys were driving around aimlessly is when brothers best friend! Gojo realizes his feelings for you and shit he's fucked after all you're his best friends little sis if he knew Gojo would be dead

if only Geto knew.....

[amourcheol]

i have a few things to say and first of all i’d like to say how dare you? genuinely, how dare you? you are absolutely insane

the way i went through an entire rollercoaster of emotions that went from pure despise to shedding actual real salty tears is sickening, i want to yell at you fr

to repeat myself: how dare you? how dare you write such a fic that left me in shambles, on my knees, crying in a walmart parking lot, going through as many divorces as txt did for lovesong, bawling my eyes out, throwing myself against a wall and did i mention i cried?

jesus christ dear god goodness gracious holy mother mary i am NOT okay, it is 5am and i need to work tomorrow (more like getting up in 1 hour to leave for work) and i just could NOT stop reading your cheol work, i HAD to know how it ends, i could physically not handle not knowing how it plays out

first of all id like to say that the way you write is pure poetry, the words and descriptions you use are so rich in detail (like the paintings hehe) and gave your fic so so so soooo much life and depth, your writing style is just so mwah mwah 5 star michelin level, i can not stress enough how incredibly good your writing is

and the plot???? i saw 41k words and was legit like 👁️👄👁️->🫥->🤨-> 🥶 because i have the brain capacity of a fly that just flew against a window at full speed but OH GOD reading it was SO worth it and let me tell you, the plot was so good ???? like never did i ever even think about skipping a paragraph ahead

also, the way you wrote the characters is so good i don’t know if i want to throw something at you or smooch your brain, you really said enemies to lovers and not:

person a: “i don’t like you.”

person b: “fine i hate you too”

person a : “shall we still kiss?”

person b: “okay”

you legit said you’re whipping out a steven spielberg quentin tarantino oscar worthy plot i’d pay for to see in a movie because DAMN the characters (especially cheol lmao) were so well written and had SO much depth to them

next up, the scenes, THE SCENES

i hope you know you took my heart, shredded it, let birds pick it apart, threw it into the smoothie mixer and blended it, cut it with a chainsaw and then made it combust with that scene with cheol and his uncle talking about how he is in love and risking his career

also, the way you gave the nickname so much depth???? how did you even come up with that like??? your brain is built different, i swear if you were to take an x ray it’d be heart shaped because WHAT i SOBBED and i CRIED like actual water in my eyes down my cheeks, that was so cute, so precious and so tooth rotting sweet i want to run into a streetlight i could not handle that part of the plot i am still in shambles i want to sob every time i think back like ?????? (not spoiling anything specific here BUT AH THIS WAS SO KSKSKSKS)

in conclusion, i’d like to throw something at you for attacking the entire fandom like that BUT i would also like to wholeheartedly thank you for putting so much time and effort and thinking and love and brain capacity (yes your heart shaped brain, prove me wrong!) into that fic which is so so long but so full of plot and plot twists and lovely details and in total so lovingly written, your writing style is so nice like ???? the whole fic is a giant piece of art for real, thank you so much for blessing us with this, i wish you all the best and someone like the cheol you wrote to be your special someone, you deserve someone kind and caring and loving and only wanting the best for you because that is what you deserve

also i wrote this in a rush of emotions it is 5am my brain is dead and there might be typos grammar mistakes anything of the sort but i’d like to say i don’t know you but i love you sm for putting this out i hope i gets the appreciation it deserves and mwah i hope you’re having a great day

oh my fucking god this ASK THIS FUCKING ASSKKKK 😭💖💖🩷🩷💖💖😞😞😞💖😭🩷🩷💖 CURRENTLY SCREAMING CRYING INTO MY PILLOW SHITTING MY PANTS GIGGLING EXPERIENCING RESURGENCE OF GIRLHOOD

TXT DIVORCES SCR E AMMMING GGG G what i like to do is HURT BITCHES ☝🏼😍 WAIT SCREAM 5AM ??;£;£: OH MY FOD I HOPE U WERENT TOO SLEEP DEPRIVED RHE NEXT DAY IM SO SORRY 😭😭👹👹👹👹👹

5 star Michelin level 😞😞😞💖💖😞💖💖😞💖💖😞💖 PLEASEEE im so glad u enjoyed the paintings description!! the art whore in me is very very happy 😞😭

A STEVEN SPIELBERG QUENTIN TARANTINO STAWPPPPPP ITTTT STOP THIS IMMEDIATELY I WILL KISS YOU 😞😞😭😭🥹🥹🩷 i was so nervous about pacing their hatred/love because I didn’t want them to just fall in love w each other quickly cause it wouldn’t be realistic at all !! thank u for appreciating that 🥹💖

SCR E WAMINGGGG UR WAY W WORDS ARE MILES BETTER THAN MINE ?;£:!3£33 UR TOO FUNYN LFMAOA I’m glad I had this much of an effect 😍🙏🏼 i will take being thrown shit at for my work LMDAO

HEART SHAPED BRAIN 😞💖💖😞💖 I’m so so happy u enjoyed the nickname bit cause idk nicknames are such an important aspect of ur identity and cheol is such a cute fucking nickname i feel like shitting screaming crying over it whenever I see him so i needed to express that 🙏🏼🙏🏼

OH GOD UR LITERALLY SO INSANELY SWEET??? I could only hope i find a man as insanely kind, beautiful, endearing as cheol (me and him would eat each other alive)

thank YOU for the kindest words, your ESSAYYTT of a review 😞😞😞💖💖💖💖 i honestly wasn’t expecting anything like this when I released cheol fic, but it’s people like you that make posting worth it 🩷🩷💖

[max--phillips]

[img ID: a reply from @skellagirl that reads “the shop I go to always tells us to ONLY get gas from chevron or shell because it’s ‘the best gas’ and putting cheap gas in our cars will fuck it up. I’ve never heard that before and it seems like bullshit to me but??? is there any truth to it” end ID]

Okay, so, yes and no. Yes, low quality gas can cause issues (most notably and immediate is lower MPG). But, there’s really no reason to go to specific brands of gas station. My guess is your mechanic is telling you to go out of your way to get Top Tier graded gas, which will actually improve the longevity of your car, but it’s definitely an “in the long run” thing, not an immediate. I know Shell does Top Tier because my father being the car geek he is will ONLY put Top Tier in his car (which to be fair is a Porsche Cayenne (but it’s an ‘08 he got with 150k miles on it so y’know. It’s really not that fancy)) & he only goes to this one specific Shell station in town. Other stations do Top Tier—I know if you’re in the Midwest most Meijer gas stations & Get Go stations have Top Tier. The symbol you’re looking for is like this one:

It’s likely on their pumps somewhere, but you can actually Google Top Tier gas and go to their website and it’ll give you a list of stations that have this certification.

The certification basically means that the gas station in question subjected the gas it sells to a bunch of testing and this company is like yup, that gas is good gas. It usually means it has certain additives like detergents in it, which can help with the longevity of your engine by breaking up engine deposits & preventing future ones, and protect your valves n shit. If you want to get into the nitty gritty of it I’d recommend going to their website and looking into it, but it’s not that important. The point is that like, yeah, if you can go out of your way to put top tier gas in your car you probably should, but I know I don’t and like. It’s fine. I wouldn’t worry about it too much.

THAT SAID, you know how the gas pumps have the three buttons, usually something along the lines of unleaded, plus/mid-grade, and premium? Unless your car specifically calls for premium fuel, which it will probably say so on your gas cap or inside of the little door that covers it (and unless you’re driving a luxury vehicle or a higher-end model, it probably doesn’t), you don’t need mid-grade or premium fuel.

The rest of this post is an explanation on why and it isn’t vital information, it’s just interesting to me, and I also let it get away from me so it’s kinda long & also you get a lesson on how engines work. Sorry not sorry.

The only thing that sets apart regular unleaded from mid-grade and premium is its octane level—the number you see on the little buttons you press to choose the grade. Usually the numbers are 87, 89-90, and 91-94 (though generally it’s 93.) (Sometimes you’ll see other wack numbers for specialty fuels, like 88, or higher octane levels ranging from 96-120. The 88 is usually ethanol-free which as far as I’m aware is only a necessity if your car was manufactured before a certain year or, again, if your manufacturer specifically calls for it. The high octane fuels in the 96-120 range are racing fuels, and if you need that fuel you know more about cars than I do, so… yeah. All that’s to say you can pretty safely ignore those.)

Here’s an explanation on what those numbers mean: basically, it’s a measurement of how much pressure the gas needs to be under before it will spontaneously combust. The lower the octane rating, the lower the pressure necessary. Because cars run on combustion engines (unless you drive an EV of course), you do want it to combust, but you run into trouble if the gas starts to ignite before it should.

You know how you have spark plugs in your engine? Those, indeed, spark, and the spark ignites the gas in the cylinder, which sends the piston back up the cylinder, turning the crankshaft, which ultimately turns a bunch of shit and makes your car go. Here’s a gif!

Since they’ve so kindly numbered each step, let’s go through it:

The piston slurps some gas (the blue fluid in the gif) into the cylinder through the valve.

The piston compresses the gas. At the piston’s highest position, the spark plug sparks, igniting the gas.

The ignition is basically a small explosion, and that pushes the piston back down, leaving burnt fuel (ultimately, exhaust; the brown stuff in the gif) in the cylinder.

The piston comes back up, pushing the exhaust out of the cylinder, before starting all over again.

Now, what does that have to do with octane rating? Remember, octane rating is a measurement of how much pressure it takes to SPONTANEOUSLY combust the gas. You don’t want it to spontaneously combust; you want the spark plug to do that. What ends up happening is the cylinder pushes the gas enough that it spontaneously combusts before the piston hits its highest point & the spark plug sparks, which ultimately causes what’s called “engine knock.” It’s a very recognizable pinging sound caused by unnecessary stress being put on the piston; it’s being pushed down while it’s still on the upstroke. Here’s another gif:

As you can imagine, this is bad for your engine, and terrible for your fuel economy. This is why if your vehicle does recommend you use premium fuel, you should. If your manufacturer is calling for it, your engine can generate enough pressure to spontaneously combust regular unleaded gas.

That said, most standard engines don’t generate enough pressure for it to cause regular unleaded gas to spontaneously combust, which is why you don’t need to spend the extra money if your car doesn’t explicitly call for it.

Alright cool thanks for coming to my post about engines & gas ily bye

[bisolationist]

one thing ive come to accept is lesbians dont give a single fuck... no matter how pacifying you make yourself which is like yeah duh why would they.. but accepting that.. whew. seeing the way my friend would talk about bis to me, despite all the support id give her made my mind combust.

chose peace of mind, havent spoken to her in 2 months. still calling out lesbophobia but not subjecting myself to that biphobic pos. i cant even imagine talking to my white friends (im black) who r THE oppressor group the way she spoke to me lol

I don't think that's true categorically, but I am just continuously taken off-guard by the cruelty people are willing to accept.

And I've heard way way way too many stories of bi people facing abuse or sexual assault only to have it be dismissed by supposedly LGB support/aid groups to not feel some sort of way about it all.

My guess is that most people aren't okay with that behavior, but ultimately they are not willing to go against their friends and buddies. I get that some extent; being gay/lesbian is lonely, and they cling to the bonds they make with other people like them tightly. But if it's at the expense of people (bisexuals in most cases I've heard of, but ANYONE) who have been severely victimized in some way then I don't have to have any sympathy or respect for that. You can't just let some shit slide on the basis of friendship or because you're in an oppressed group yourself :T that just makes you complicit

[roosterbruiser]

Once again id like to request some landslide crumbs!!!! Let’s go crazy!!!

let's go nuts 🤪

this is a deleted scene bc I decided it didn't align with literally anyone's characterization at all! v angsty!

Landslide Crumbs™️ under the cut

I’m nearly running. I know I’m going to have blisters, can feel the stiff leather of my loafers withering away the skin of my heels. 

My hair is falling out of its bun, my blouse is untucked from my skirt. My teeth hurt from biting down so hard. My ears are still red from raising my voice and my chest is tight with anger. 

Anger. I cannot remember the last time I felt truly angry, especially this deeply. I forgot how it aches in my throat, the way it makes my jaw fasten tightly, like it’s sewn together with a tapestry needle. Even the scar on my jaw is throbbing.

Hangman was on a roll. Insulting Phoenix, abandoning his wingman. I was sitting at my desk, typing, listening. I was almost dozing, imagining that if Maggie were there, she would have jumped on him like a tick and drank all his blood before he even knew what was happening. 

But I froze when he said it.  

“I can’t be the only one that knows that Maverick flew with his old man,” Hangman said coolly. 

I was watching Maverick’s face. His cheeks sagged, eyebrows drooping, a frown planting itself on his lips. I knew that look--the look of anguish, of guilt. It was obvious that my dad’s death had fucked Maverick up pretty bad.  

“That’s enough,” Maverick warned, though his voice wavered. 

Then I was looking at Rooster. There was an intensity in his glare, his face angled to the left at Hangman, the air around him charged with unadulterated rage, with electricity. I was sure that if I touched Rooster in that moment, my finger would be zapped. 

“Or that Maverick was flying when his old man--!” 

“Lieutenant, that’s enough!” Maverick was louder now, but Hangman was deaf to his orders.

Rooster and I sprouted from our seats at the same time, that invisible string pulling taut. Except Rooster pounced from his desk and lunged at Hangman, getting one good shove in before the pilots flocked around them. I stood motionlessly, my jaw slack.  

“That’s enough!” 

“You son of a bitch,” Rooster spat, his voice strained and harsh. 

He pointed his finger at Hangman, eyes wide but face pulled together in an anguished kind of rage. His face was red, hair disheveled. 

Hangman was insufferably cool, shrugging off any hands that tried to hold him back. Rooster still tried to lunge when the opportunity presented itself--like a caged animal. His chest heaved and his cheeks were so red they looked like they were going to combust. 

“He’s not cut out for this mission,” Hangman said, smiling, “you know it. You know I’m right.”

“You’re all dismissed,” Maverick defeatedly called, looking out at the squadron. 

Rooster turned his back and stalked in the opposite direction of everyone else.

It was Hangman that I’d found first. He was leaning against the leather-tufted couch in the breakroom, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes downcast. The corners of his mouth were still turned up, just slightly, into a smirk. 

“Hey,” I had uttered, stepping into the carpeted room, “Hangman.”

He glanced up at me, smirk dissipating when he registered the furrow of my brow and the splotches on my throat. All the places Rooster had touched me on Flat Rock Beach, in Memorial Hall, were smoldering.

“Yeah?” 

Hangman crossed his arms, eyes peering into my half-lidded ones. 

“Remember when you said I was the best backseater? And that you’d heard stories about me?” 

He nodded solemnly. 

I stood before him, turning my chin towards the ceiling to look up at him. 

“I didn’t get to that place by pulling whatever stunt that was,” I hissed, “and the difference between a pilot like you and a pilot like Rooster--or Crimson, even--is that their squad comes back. Every single one of them.” 

He narrowed his eyes and set his jaw, but said nothing. 

“And if you think for even a fraction of a second that you’re going on this mission,” I laughed dryly, feeling myself untethering the longer I spoke, “you’ve got another thing coming.”

And at that, I spun on my heel, turning towards the door. Phoenix and Bob were standing in the doorway. Bob was nodding solemnly at me, cheeks hollowed, and Phoenix was staring at Hangman with a quirked brow. 

Even though it is the late afternoon, the building seems to be entirely empty except for me. The air conditioning rumbles, the fluorescents buzz and flicker above me, people talk lowly in their offices--but all that noise, that sweet unimportant noise, is drowned out by the thud of my shoes hitting the tile. 

I almost have to dig my heels in the ground when I reach it, Memorial Hall. And he is there, just like I knew he would be. It’s only been a few minutes, minutes that were fleeting, but crucial. His cheeks glow red in the distance and his chest is heaving. He’s standing before his father’s portrait, his flight suit now unzipped to his belly, his arms limply by his sides as he clenches his fists. 

I don’t say his name, but I slow down. I found him. No more haste necessary.

He doesn’t turn to face me when I step beside him. We just both catch our breaths, both our cheeks radiating heat. He’s staring very intently at Goose’s portrait, but I know that he probably isn’t seeing it, not really. 

“Why’re you panting?” He finally asks, voice soft but ragged. 

“I ripped into Lieutenant Seresin,” I whisper back. 

His head snaps in my direction. Now I don’t look at him. There’s a growing pit in my belly. 

“Did you actually?” 

“Affirmative.” 

Rooster makes a noise--something between a dry laugh and a stunted gasp. 

“Aren’t you a little hothead,” he teases, his voice flat, “getting into a scuffle with the big boys.” 

His words pierces me like a fire-poker that’s come straight from the flames of Hell. I almost choke on my spit, blinking rapidly in shock. What the fuck did he just say to me? 

Then he doubles down, “I don’t need you doing my dirty work, Lieutenant Ledger.” 

His body is stiff beside mine. 

I take one step away from him, reeling. My belly is upside down, my heart racing faster than it ever had in an F-18, in a dogfight, even. That rage is climbing, climbing up my throat again and faster than before. I think I hear a tooth crack as I slam my teeth against each other.

The gross comments began as soon as Crimson and I set foot in the Naval Academy. We trained with them, we slept in the same barracks sometimes, we ate every meal with them, we loaded the same guns as them, we loved the country they loved, too. We fought for the country they fought for, too. But at the end of the day, it didn’t matter, did it? Because we were pretty little things with pretty little things between our legs. Didn’t matter if we were on a Naval carrier with the boys we trained with, the men we answered to. Even then, we had to be on guard. Don’t get too comfortable. Go to the bathroom in groups. Don’t leave a drunk girl alone in the mess hall, in the rec room.

Tears spring into my eyes and I want to weep, but I take a deep breath, filling my lungs. Rooster is looking at me again. I tuck my blouse in, staring ahead at Admiral Walker’s portrait. Then I reach up and smooth my hair, readjusting my pins so my hair is contained once more. I smooth my skirt and curse the shoes on my feet. 

I glance at my watch. It’s 5:03. 

“Big boys, huh?” I finally manage to say, letting my hands fall on my thighs. 

Rooster squares his jaw. I think of his hand on my cheek on Flat Rock Beach, the way he watched my eyes, the way his were filled with covert tears.

“You know, my blood runs just as red and hot as yours,” I start slowly, “and I have given everything I have for this country. Everything. And it’s taken it, too. Graciously. I am your equal, Lieutenant Bradshaw.” 

Rooster screws his eyes shut, arms crossed over his chest, face contorted into a grimace. 

“Or maybe I’m not. Maybe I’m better than you because I would never sink to that level.”   

[villanevehaus]

dumbass here forgot to mention that the last ask was mine (anonwho) lol

butttt lemme say this i had terrible eficiency at work today thanks no less to that ch, so i guess that says smth plusss i wanna add that their second fuck was way better then the first one, much so bc we get to read a lot abt vil's pov during it, girl is so head over heals she might combust one of these days strike what i said abt not wanting them fucking now #how long till we have clothless sex, im curious bc of scars reasons #anonwho #forgot my id #tme #heey #merry xmas guess #see ya in 2024 with them idiots

god this is so embarrassing for me "merry xmas see you in 2024"

thank u thank u i really like how they came together (haha) the second time and im glad yall did too

it will be a Hot second until they have unclothed sex but i prommy it will be worth the wait

[blackvail22]

everything went wrong so far im so disappointed

nvm im just overdramatic

everything was fun

it didnt go the way i wanted it to but it was still fun

nvm im overthinking again LMAOO

DUDE

ive been out of my meds for two days now, my anxiety meds arent working anymore... im so out of whack !!!!

like, its literally not a big deal that he has a matching pfp w his friend that flirts w him!!! yeah!!!!!!

im so overdramatic and insecure i really just need to let it go

he hates and refuses to have matching pfps w me but does w them!!!! yeah, its fine!

this is so juvenile of me i stfg

im not going to cry over this

stop. oh my god

DUDE THIS IS SO FUCKING STUPIDDDDD

i hope i can get me meds nextt week a new anxiety med im losing my mind

chest is constantly burning, my hands r always shaky

its literally the worst its ever been

and im CRYING over something so STUPID

(its not stupid to me. i really like matching pfps even if its subtle... i think its cute n sweet i just wish he didnt refuse it when it comes to me...)

im so upset, man

this was supposed to be the day i could finally hang out w him but he's w his cousin im going to combust

WHY AM I CRYING OVER THINGS SO STUPID AND LITTLE FUCK

its okay for him to have friends

its okay for him to talk to his family and be witg them

im not the only person in the world

i dont even matter that much anyway so why am i so sad?

im so bored of playing games by myself and scrolling social media endlessly because no one really talks to me or makes plans with me

but when they do, sometimes my first reaction of exhaustion and how much i dont want to talk

why am i like this?

my neverending fear, now, is that i am on the spectrum and people wont accept me, even though nothing will really change... id still be the same person as before the label was placed on me, but theres such a big stigma around autistic people that its hard for people to see that?

so, if i am autistic, and if i do have adhd (or some form of it), i dont want to tell anyone. i dont like telling people abt the other 3 disorders i have, so its not like itll change....

my sister said something yesterday, and its stuck with me ever since... she said "you know, whenever you get a friend, it seems like they just start to disappear, and they just leave you"

and its true...

im just the problem, arent i?

its not my neurodivergency... its just..me

im just embarrassing to have around, i guess

[luckynumbersevenseven]

Note in my phone last night..when i go on social medias that i have not become desensitized to (not facebook ig or tumblr or like..youtube. But reddit tik tok twitter etc.) this is consistently i feel

Oh MY god the suggested twitter feed makes me want to blow my actual self into oblivion. I dont even say the whole kms shit lightly. It makes me actively want to die. Well i guess passively but. If i read it more often i probably would combust. I only read like 15 tweets in like 3 minutes starting w elon musk saying something about media manipulation and censorship and then a bunch of tweets about aging gracefully instead of turning into an embalmed muppet like madonna who clearly has so much plastic surgery that she looks bloated and shiny and terrible and one person posted a pic of her mom at 64 compared to madonna at 64 but her mom also clearly still has a lot of work done..its just more subtle and she was like look my mom is aging gracefully. And then theres someone comparing the chinese spy balloon that was shot down recently to a “raiser of a junkie son”???? What evem?how did u possibly make that about hating addicts? Idk. Thats like the fallback feed. That they show u before u follow anyone. So sick. Celebrities tweeting like theyre politicians politicians tweeting like they are celebrities ew! Everyone with their petty bullshit hot take two sentences. These are the people that control the globe! Ew!!!! Who cares! Everyone! Thats the worst part. What is this weird fucked up game we r all playing? Feels like a k hole

I want to scream i did just whisper scream at my phone and kick my legs in bef and said oh my god stop stop stop reading about the amazon forrest dying!!!! Its slow and painful! Fucking just explode the earth. What the fuck. What the fuck. The world id burning. The anthropocene needs to end!!!! Crumble!!!! Now!!! Things will go on without us. Our own iceage holy fuck tho it is torturous living through this descent. The apaocolyps is now!

The colorado river is drying up. The amazon will soon be brushland. California is burning and crumbling away into the ocean. Childhood obesity. Inflation. Kids starve and the celebrities refuse to touch their feast to maintain their surgically modified figures. Women in iran are being tortured and executed based on what? For standing up for their rights as humans. What are our rights as humans? Who decides? Women in america have their faces surgically altered based on the current trend. Quietness drives people insane. Migrants flee death through death to an imminent and slower death. We are sending weapons to them to kill them before they kill them and then us. Computers scan our faces without warning. But just to keep us safe! Of course! I was not born for this world. Who made this place this way. I did not. Was life on earth ever abundant and joyful? There was always loss and death. Idk. Feels like it is absolutely overpowering.

[i-think-its-just-me]

nah cause the way i literally just creamed myself thinking about oscar isaac😭

like the chokehold that man has on me is in-fuCKING-SANE

[myceyelium]

[waveswept]

sure sex is cool but have u ever fantasized about getting vip tickets 2 see ur fave band so u can tell them face 2 face how much their stuff means 2 u n hopefully make their day as well