#sorry simon (im not sorry)
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I think at some point in time we need to sit down and start explaining to artist who want to make a career out of art that there are FAR more options than just "living off of commissions" and "posting my art online and praying I get paid for it".
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part 2 of baker!reader + do not ever ask me to write accents lmao i suck at those đđ and a huge thank you to all the sweet and dessert suggestions! i couldn't add all of them, but oh my god did i love all of them and choosing between them was sooo hard (that's what she said). if your dessert didn't make it here im soo sorry đ
It was a quiet morning when you finally decided to reopen the bakery. The town had been whispering, speculating about the sudden disappearance of your husbandâtragic, they said, to be found mauled by a bear in the woods. You hadnât shed a tear, hadnât flinched at the news. Maybe that was cruel of you, but after what you had endured, you couldnât bring yourself to feel anything for him anymore. Not fear, not sadnessâjust relief.
And now, with the bakery open once again, you felt lighter. Freer.
The 141 boys were there first thing, as you had hoped. Each one walking into the cozy space like they belonged there. Their heavy, winter boots made the wooden floors creak, their towering frames somehow making the space feel intimate rather than intimidating. You smiled as the familiar smell of fresh bread and sugar lingered in the air, the warmth of the ovens cocooning you and the rest of the bakery in comfort. Free from that terrible man youâd called a husband, it was as if the world itself was taking on a more vibrant color.
âMorning, sweetheart,â John greeted you, his eyes crinkling beneath his hat, though there was something watchful in his gaze.
âBonnie,â Johnny chirped, leaning on the counter, his eyes sparkling as they usually did when he spoke to you. âPlace smells heavenly as always.â
âYouâre open today, huh?â Kyle said, grinning as he eyed the display of pastries lined up neatly behind the glass. âMissed our favorite baker, honestly.â
Simon didnât say anything at first, just gave you a long, steady look from behind his mask. You knew he had seen the signs. He was the only one who had seen the bruises, had taken your hands so gently that day and whispered that promise. You hadnât asked for it, hadnât said anything in return, but you had trusted him all the same. You are glad you did. You are so glad itâd been him to see.
Now, as you wiped your hands on your apron and stepped out from behind the counter, your heart was lighter than it had been in months. âEverythingâs on the house today,â you said, your smile wider than it had been in ages. âFor you guys, at least. After all⊠Iâve got a few new things for you to try.â
Soap raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. âIs that so? Then weâre in for a treat, eh boys?â
You went back to the counter, pulling out a few trays and plates, your hands moving quickly as you started setting them down in front of the men, watching their eyes light up at the spread. âIâve been experimenting,â you said, your voice light, almost teasing. âFor John, Iâve got pecan pie. Thought you might like itâsomething a bit rich, a bit warm.â Like you, goes unsaid but you hoped he still heard it.
Johnâs eyes gleamed as he accepted the slice you placed in front of him. âAlways knew you were a mind reader,â he murmured with a chuckle, cutting into the pie and taking a bite. The smile that spread across his face was slow, but appreciative.
âFor you, Kyle, lemon meringue tarts. Something sharp, refreshing. A little tangy,â you said, setting the plate in front of him. âAnd a bit sweet, too. Had a feeling youâd like it!â
Kyle laughed, picking up the tart and admiring it at first. âYou know me too well.â He took a bite, his eyes widening at the burst of lemon on his tongue and then groaning in delight. âPerfect, as always.â
Simon watched you closely, and when you placed a plate of apple fritters in front of him, his gaze softened just slightly. âMade these with you in mind,â you said, your voice gentle. âThought youâd appreciate something classic, Si. Simple, but comforting.â
He didnât say anything at first, just nodded in that way of his, taking the fritter in his gloved hand. When he took a bite, his eyes closed briefly, and you could see the silent approval in the way his shoulders seemed to relax ever so slightly.
âAnd for you, Johnny,â you giggled, setting down a small bowl of Cranachan in front of him. âThought you might like something traditional- whisky, raspberries, oats, and cream. Feels like a bit of home, doesnât it? At least I hope so. It was my first time making it.â
Johnny beamed all the same, eagerly reaching for a spoon. âAh, bonnie, youâre spoiling us.â
But it wasnât just them you were thinking of. You had made a fresh batch of focaccia bread for yourself, but this wasnât just any bread- it was bold, spiced with rosemary and topped with chilli flakes and garlic. It was a reflection of your own newfound boldness. Youâd been quiet, subdued for so long. Now, you wanted to feel alive again.Perhaps it might seem corny, but this focaccia bread meant to signify that for you.
You set a slice of the focaccia on a plate for yourself, taking a bite as you sat with them, your smile not faltering for a second. It was savoury- settling warmth in your stomach. âI think this might be my new favorite, actually.â you said with a soft laugh. In your mind, you were already thinking of making and selling more of it.
They didnât say much in response, still tasting their own desserts, but you could feel their appreciation, their understanding, in the quiet way they accepted it.
The rest of the bakery was alive with the smell of freshly baked treats: rich brownies, soft sugar cookies, fluffy cronuts, and delicate eclairs. Tres leches cakes sat next to pumpkin pies, while apple and custard empanadas filled the air with their sweet, warm scent. Cheesecakes, cardamom rolls, strawberry lamingtonsâthe selection was almost overwhelming, but everything sold well. Especially the bear claw pastries. You smiled softly to yourself at the irony. The bearclaw pastries might also be your new favorite, right alongside the focaccia.
Johnny noticed it immediately, the little twitch of your lips, and raised an eyebrow. âWhatâs so funny, bonnie?â
You waved him off, shaking your head. âOh, nothing. Just⊠the bear claws. Theyâve been selling really well lately. Thought it was⊠fitting.â
Simonâs eyes flicked to you, then to the bear claw pastries sitting neatly in a display case. A slow understanding crossed his gaze, but he didnât say anything. Just a slight nod, the corner of his mouth twitching, the silent acknowledgment of the truth that you all shared. You had no doubt the others knew about it as well- maybe even had a hand in it. Such incredible men.
And for the first time, standing in your bakery, surrounded by warmth and the quiet camaraderie of the men you had come to trust, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. The past was behind you. Now, you had a future to look forward toâone filled with new beginnings, layers to unfold like a mille-feuille crepe cake, and the quiet reassurance that you were no longer alone.
âHereâs to new beginnings,â you said, raising your cup of coffee, your smile bright and genuine.
The boys raised their cups in return, their expressions soft but full of unspoken promises. âTo new beginnings,â they echoed, and for the first time in a long time, you believed it. Especially because you could see the way they were looking at you.
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#cod#cod x reader#cod x you#poly!141 x reader#tf 141 x reader#tf 141 x you#john price x reader#soap x reader#cod imagines#tf 141#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x you#kyle gaz garrick#kyle gaz x reader#gaz x reader#call of duty x reader#poly!141#ending is so corny tho im so sorry#noona.writes
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// GHOSTSOAP x sailor song! (đ ON ) // suggestive imagery â â â individual panels:
#john soap mactavish#cod mw2#simon ghost riley#simon riley#call of duty mw2#ghostsoap#john mactavish#soapghost#ghost x soap#IM BACK SORRY GUYS#anyways yeah another song âcomicâ#dont eat me alive with this okay theres no bad ending. there ISNT a bad ending. not even in the games
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Rebeca Andrade and Simone Biles đ„âš I just had to make these absolute icons! turns out making real people in this game is so hard (huge respect for ppl who do it!!), and i wish i could've done better but im still learning how to use sliders and stuff. I had sooo much fun with this though, dare i say i even learned a bit about anatomy which is really cool ^_^ Anyways, had a blast waking up at 3 am just to watch the olympics, and i'm so proud of my girl Rebeca for winning that gold and making history in our country âĄ
#Rebeca Andrade#Simone Biles#olympics#paris 2024#ts4#sims 4#ts4 cas#sims 4 cas#simblr#ts4 edit#sorry im not as active here as i wish ;_; i'll be back as soon as things calm down in university.. im more active on simstwitter though
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youâve just given me a thought
Reader sitting on Johnnys face with Simon fucking him. Johnnys pushing reader down harder on his face, all pussy drunk, smothered in her and it gets to a point where Simon has to physically pull reader off of Johnny just to let him breath because he wasnât gonna do it himself and certainly wasnât going to let reader go. Heâs all flushed and breathing heavy getting air back in his lungs, face covered in squirt đ«Ł
oh lord i may have died and ascended-
and the way johnnyâs got a vice grip on your thighs or on the dip of your hips, pushing you down on his face, either to muffle his moans on the hot press of your skin because simonâs fucking him so good, hitting his prostate so well, or to lick up at your pussy because it is so wet and warm, and your slick is so delicious, he canât help but gulp it down because he wants moreâ
âjoh-nny,â you hiccup, his name slipping from your gritted teeth in a slurred hiss. âstop! stop, please!â
itâs too much, too fast, and johnnyâs frantic movements are only making you anxious. you canât even feel his breath against your cunt anymore, and you tremble, wide-eyed as the cold wash of worry mixes with your desires.
you fist at his hair, trying to pry him off your cunt so you can get to your knees for a second, but your squirming just makes johnny grip your body harder. he digs his tongue in deeper, and you let out a drawled-out whine at the drag of his nose against your hardened clit.
âsimon!â you sob, your breaths hitching as you tremble. âmakeâim stop! simon, makeâimââ
âfuckinâ hell,â simon murmurs, breathless himself, his voice a rich timbre from somewhere close behind you. you feel his arms wrap around your chest before he pulls you towards him.
you lazily topple off johnnyâs face and into simonâs space, your back pressed flush against his chest. you tip your head down, feeling the way simon does the same, and you two watch as johnny catches his breath.
he is flushed oh-so beautifully, his nose all flared as he gulps down air. his face is wet, messy with your slick, and you watch, with a silent gasp, johnny poke his tongue out to lave at his glistening lips, tasting the remnants of your euphoria.
you jump when you feel simon buck his body forward, jostling you and johnny together. johnny hisses, his face crumpling in his pleasure, andâ
âoh,â you say, reaching down to stuff yourself with your fingers. âsi, do thaâ again, please?â
simon hooks his chin on your shoulder, grunting in his own bliss when he pulls out, slow like he is deliberate in teasing johnny, only to punch his cock back in johnny. you three share a moan.
#anon#LOSING ME MIND#my add-on is bad im sorry BUT IM FRANTICALLY TRYNA IMAGINE THIS AND IT MAKES ME SHAKE#ghoap x reader#ghoap x reader smut#simon ghost riley x reader#johnny soap mctavish x reader#simon riley smut#johnny soap mactavish smut#ask#suns
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area woman sees greeting card at target and For Some Reason is overcome with complicated emotions regarding two call of duty characters, of all things âĄ
anyways there is ghostsoap everywhere for those with the eyes to see
#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#johnny mactavish#simon riley#ghostsoap#ghoap#call of duty#cod mw2#LMFAO... im sorry...#also all my sweeties pointed out how huge i made simon in this one. my bad you can tell i was especially desiring him carnally as i drew it#( âĄÌ.âĄÌ)#mineâ„
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he's a hard drive...
#simon petrikov#adventure time#fionna and cake#shioart#sorry im just kinda hung up on the fact that prismo used him as storage space#eye strain#bright colors
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oooo to be simon's partner who is fully aware of what he does, having learned all of the shit (both good and bad) he's done once things started looking like y'all were going to be more than the occasional hookup because to be with him is to always be prepared for the worst and it's best you be well informed before making it official because once you're his, he's not letting go.
you don't bring it up much, no want to know anything past if he's coming home now or in a few months time and it's all well and good until one day, you wake with your patience threadbare thin and his usual protectiveness seemed so suffocatingly overbearing that you snap if the way he keeps breathing down your fucking neck is how he treats the people they keep for interrogation and his face tightens in an instant, usual warm eyes hardened into the cold steel of a winter's night.
"you'd know if that were the case."
you hadn't been serious, of course, just pulled a stereotype out of the many military movies he likes to watch just to grunt at all the inaccuracies in it but now seeing his game face slip on so seamlessly, especially after only ever having experiencing his softer side-
heat licks up the sides of your jaw at the thought of being at the receiving end of that. he's already naturally intense, his attention usually feeling like being under a magnifying glass but what if- what if that focus became a crosshair?
a thrum courses through you, from the tips of your toes up to the crown, akin to the hum of electricity surging through power lines. would he cause you pain and lap at the tears that wet your cheeks? would he get off on it? bringing you to your knees after only ever bringing him to his?
"i can see the smoke comin' out ya ears, luv. gotta make sure this is somethin' you actually want, i can be quite thorough."
(the eggs burn on the stove after letting him fuck you on the countertop until your eyes cross and you see two of him.)
#being manhandled like valeria and what's her name on mw2 would have my holes THROBBING im sorry#i think it's the daddy issues in me idk#him tag teaming in the 141 because if he can't get through you then kyle will#o- i'm dizzy#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley smut#call of duty#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you
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stalker!Simon decides to have a little fun with his favourite camgirl.
the message comes up halfway into your "show."
it's a boring night. slow. you wear a lingerie set one of your viewers sent in beneath a silk robe, all in a pretty pastel pinkâcliche, but it works; an uncomfortably disgusting version of hair theory unfolding in front of your eyesâand discreetly chug wine when you twist away to grab a new toy. a series of pale pink vibrators, nipple clamps. mundane depravity for what's shaping up to be a lacklustre night.
but the money that pours in from these little shows (adult version of classic party gamesâhide and seek, would you rather, truth or dare) is one step closer to erasing your debts. student loans. car payments. rent. you smile so wide it aches, and put your best face on when you blink, coquettish and coy, at the camera where nameless, faceless men throw money in a ring for a scrap of your attention.
tonight's game is Simon Says. and it's supposed to be normal. boring.
but a message from a viewer named Simon (in a sea of many who cheekily changed their usernames to match the theme of the game) stands out.
Simon says... go lock your door.
you blink. between all of the Simon Says touch yourself for me baby, pull your shirt down, lemme fuck you for real it sticks out. a change in the routine.
you huff, pouting. "already did that, Simon. c'mon, gimme something else to do, honey."
another one pops up. Simon says... you shouldda got a dog.
your brows furrow. "that's not part of the game, Simon. i'm gonna move onâ"
Simon says... open your door.
he's paying you handsomely. dropping coins, large amounts of money, for each message to shoot to the top. little superchats. why he isn't taking advantage of it and paying you to do something sexy, something lewd, unnerves you. your heart starts to race, thudding against your ribs almost painfully.
it's fine, you think. he's just a creep. a loser. "uh huh, not part of the game, Simon. i'm afraid i'm gonna have to cut you offâ"
you block him. they don't normally get under your skin like this. ever. at all. even when they throw random names in your dms, hoping one of them happens to be yours, and try to blackmail you to your fake friends and family. it doesn't bother you as much as this. as him. get a dog. how absurd.
the next series of chats pass without the same odd comments. take your bra off, but leave the robe on. act coy, like you don't want toâ
creeps, you think, in their own right. but. paying ones. so, you smile. stiff. uncomfortable. grinning so wide it hurts. pretending to ignore the strange unease growing in your guts. your eyes sliding back to the superchats saved in a glowing log. let me in. a troll. whatever. it's nothing. nothing. you'll drink wine after this, scrub your skin raw in the shower and buy yourself something pretty with the money these greasy losers threw your wayâ
Simon says... let me in.
you feel your heart in your throat. it can't be him. you blocked him. you have mods to keep trolls out of your chats, but wonderâhopefullyâif maybe it failed. maybe they found your stream are just being weird. strange. but when you check, the filters are on. he's a registered user. paid the premium to watch you. to get an invite to your special game nights. it makes it worse, you think, that he paid to be here. to do this.
your hand shakes. you block this user, too, ignoring the discomfort churning inside your chest. the fear spiking along the nape of your neck. hair raising. there's a prickle on your skin. the feeling of being watched
no. it's fine. you're fineâ
"ah, what else should i do, Simon?" you ask your viewers, pulling on another smile. one that hurts. aches. wobbles around the edges. you'll end the stream in a few minutes. order Thai food. drink yourself stupid. take the day off tomorrow. use this creeps money and waste it. blow it on something stupid. dumb. laugh about it with your friends.
your shoulders dip. the tension easing. you're fine. you're at home. the doorâ
you locked it. right? you definitely, absolutely, locked it when you brought in the package from the delivery driver. the massive, hulking man who loomed in your doorway, too wide, even, to fit inside, and growled out in a low, brassy timbre: sign 'ere. you took the pen, pretending he wasn't drilling holes into you with his gaze, eyes liquid in the dark. intense. wanting. and then scurried insideâ
back pressed against the door, hands wrapped around the lingerie set.
you glance at the chat. "which Simon bought me this cute set? i'd like to thank them personally," you murmur, forcing your shoulders to drop. it's fine. you live in the middle of nowhere. no one is coming to your door.
there's no takers in the chat. you shift on the chair, licking your lips. "it's really cute, Simon. a perfect size, too, and i justâ"
something catches your eye in the corner of the monitor. a movement. a slight shift. a whisper of fabric. you tilt your chin, peering into the hazy black reflection.
what you're looking at doesn't make any sense. your bedroom door is open. a curtain of black drapes over the wall where the pale strip of light doesn't reach.
the washroom light is still on, a yellow spill illuminating the hallway, but nothing is there. no one is in the hall. but you know you closed your door. you always do when you stream. your heart trips over itself. leaps to your throat. you almost choke on itâ
another bubble pops up. Simon says... hey. uh, who is that guy behind you?
there's a ringing in your ears. your hair stands on end. something moves again. the black mass wasn't a shadow. it moves. takes shape. the covered head nearly reaches your ceiling, body filling the entirely of your room. massive. a mountain you remember thinking. a fucking mountain, you texted your friend. thighs the size of tree trunksâ
a hand reaches out, grabs hold of your power bar. thick gloved fingers curling over the button. in the bluegreen glow of your computer screen, a man steps out.
"glad y'liked it, pet." the deep, brassy drawl sends shivers down your spine. you try to scream, mouth opening wide to choke it out, yell for helpâ
your chat bubbles up, feverish in their excitement. you skin through the messages, stomaching churning as it clicks in your head. their rabidness isn't about saving you, butâ
(omg he's gonna fuck her pron??? we're getting pron????? no fucking wayyyyy god i wish it were meâ)
this isn't a fucking bit, you morons, you want to howl. call the fucking policeâ
but he gets there first. two strides. it happens in a blink. the screen goes back and he's on you in seconds.
you're not even sure how someone so big, so heavy, could move that quietlyâ
"ah-ah, none o'tha' now," his hand curls around your neck, tight. choking. you try to fight but he just huffs, breathing in deep, chest expanding across your spine as his other hand snakes around your waist, trapping you against a corded forearm. he bends down, nuzzles his jaw into your crown. coos:
"Simon says... turn around for me pretty girl, an' be good, now. went through all this trouble t'find you. think i deserve a little rewardâ"
#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon riley/reader#ahhhhh i woke up outta a dead sleep to write this im sorry
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uno reverse
#john soap mactavish#simon ghost riley#soapghost#ghostsoap#ghoap#sorry to postin so much feel like im breaking some sorta unspoken rule but i gotta or i will forget to post it at all#mw#my art#recruits in the bathroom sobbin in confusion at soaps 180 in the mornin after drills. brutal. judgmental. no remorse.#sneerin dead eyed stare he oversees em with so unforgivin and cold to minor missteps#ghost is the nice one who seems to be glowing. bc the first time he exp'd soap on a bad day he nearly had a mental break down#thinkin he did somethin to piss him off but nope soap just borrowed the stick up ghost's ass for the day#eye black smears on fingies as a treat to myself#feel like im forgettin somethin wonder what it is hmm maybe its my lack of sleep 24hrs awake thas prolly it ye
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need our simon to come home from deployment IMMEDIATELY đ«¶đŒ | p1 p2 p3 p4
your older bf!simon comes home from deployment at dinner time on a tuesday.
herb alpert on the kitchen radio, knife tearing through a bunch of parsley, garlic and onion simmering on the stove behind you.
simon can hear it- smell it through the mail flap.
smells like home.
your ears prick at the sound of the door swinging open, the hinges alerting you to a secondary presence. back tensing for just a moment before you hear steps you could pick out in a lineup.
he sees your fluffy slippers first, then your little shorts, then his t-shirt. finally, heâs met with wide eyes and the kitchen light hits the curve of your face so nicely.
simon could cry.
you already were.
âoh my god, siâ
he doesnât really want to touch you with his outside clothes, tactical gear smelling like the back of a cargo plane and youâre so soft and lovely heâs afraid he might mess it all up.
but thereâs nothing stopping the way you leap at him across the kitchen and swing your entire self around him and heâs forgetting what heâs wearing and heâs wrapping his arms around you like he knows you wonât break.
his tongue is immediately in your mouth and heâs taking one gasping breath and filling his nose with the scent thatâs overwhelming him.
simon realises right then that the house smells like dinner but you smell like home. you are home. heâs home.
when he finally lets you let him go youâre telling him to leave all his gear by the washer and youâll sort it all out tomorrow but right now he needs to sit down so you can feed him.
heâs back in the kitchen with a sweatshirt and shorts on and heâs never found his own clothes so comfortable. maybe itâs because he can smell you on the fabric.
youâd only been cooking enough for one but at this point, youâre so happy to have him home that youâre plating up the whole thing for him as he sits at the dining table.
his chair scrapes back along the floor and heâs patting his thigh, simon eats his tea with you curled up in his lap telling him everything heâd missed.
apparently, old-mate next door broke up with his missus and it was quite the scene.
apparently, they finally finished the roadworks on the junction at the end of your street and there was no longer a blur of orange cones on the drive to work.
apparently, there was going to be a barbecue at the house down the street and the two of you were invited. you might make a salad to take with.
you couldâve been reading him the phonebook and simon would be a happy man. his hand was holding under your thigh and your face was in the crook of his neck.
he was home.
dishes done (together) and tea steaming on the coffee table in front of him, simon isnât sure this couch has ever been this plush. he could melt into it, as long as it was just like this.
bare feet up on the ottoman and one arm wrapped around your side as your head lay against his chest. you could hear his heartbeat and he could hear the football youâd recorded for him whilst he was away.
deployment was fucking rough, seen and done things he didnât even want to think about. but this is what he comes home to.
you.
you who curls up in his lap and idly twirls the drawstring of his shorts round your finger.
you who offered up all of your food to him to fill the pit thatâd been growing in his stomach over the weeks.
you who couldnât give less of a fuck about the football on tv but watches in quiet contentment for the sake of being closer to him.
you who doesnât ask once about what happened while he was away but will always listen without judgement if he needs to get something off his chest.
ideally, simon would like to give you the world in return. then again, he doesnât think even thatâd be enough.
instead, he takes you up to your shared bed and, miraculously, he doesnât fall asleep as soon as his back touches the mattress.
he could, very easily, but instead he pulls you down on top of him and gets his lips back on yours. the kiss when he came through the door had been passionate but itâd been fleeting.
simon had kept it like that, knowing if he spent a second longer with your tongue on his then heâd have you over the kitchen bench and that wasnât what he wanted.
really, he wanted this. the full weight of you on top of him and your hips rolling messily against his as his hands went up underneath your his shirt.
he wanted to run his fingertips along your bare back and feel skin so soft he almost couldnât remember the things his hands had done just last week.
he wanted to map out every spot, every freckle, every ridge across your shoulders and commit it to memory so the next time he had to up and leave he could trace you like a constellation in the night sky.
truthfully, simon didnât want to leave next time. he wanted to get the call from price and tell him that he was sorry but he couldnât do it any longer. he now had something- someone to live for and he just couldnât gamble odds like he used to.
he wasnât entirely sure heâd still hold the sentiment on the other side of blowing a load so simon put those thoughts in the back of his head and decided heâd work them out on tomorrow morningâs run.
right now, simon felt the soft skin of the inside of your cheeks and your spit tastes like the nectar those gods harped on about and heâs pulling hard on your hips as he rolled something hard between them.
you were moaning, whimpering, whinging into his mouth while you ground yourself into the hard line of his cock. raging erection didnât even cover it and his head was tipping back as a-
yawn, deep and all consuming broke from his throat.
simon was fucking knackered.
exactly what he didnât want to happen was happening in front of him, you were sitting up and cooing at him so fucking sweetly.
âsi, youâre exhausted- weâll go to sleepâ
strong grip around your waist was anchoring you to the spot so you couldnât climb out of his lap like you were currently trying.
âsweetâartâ
you could hear it in his voice, he couldnât even lift his head off the pillow. you conceded, however, letting him rub soft little circles into your hips.
âjusâ gimmeâ one and then weâll sleepâ
laying back down against his chest, you felt the air woosh out of him as you relaxed your body on his. face fitting into the crook of his neck like you were made for him (you were) with a hand running along his collarbone.
âweâve got tomorrowâ
you knew it was futile, he was already slipping your shorts to the side. head tilting just a little to press a kiss to the top of your head.
âand i need you tonightâ
settled.
you felt one large hand lift you up as his other freed his cock out his shorts. just enough, just enough to get the job done because any extra effort was going to render him unconscious.
bringing a hand to his mouth, he spit in his palm quickly before rubbing it along the head of his cock. deep groan rumbled beneath you as you felt him pressing against your entrance.
âlift yâtop up, sweetâart- wannaâ feel yâon meâ
you did him one better, leaning up enough to slip the shirt over your head and onto the floor. forcing him to hold his arms up for just a second, you pulled his sweatshirt off and discarded it in the pile.
bare chest to chest, you could feel simon shudder beneath you. snaking one arm under his armpit and the other around his ribs, you snuggled in tight as you felt him slip right in.
thatâs all he wanted.
weeks of photos, videos, imagination to go off of. this was all he ever wanted. you so close to him that it was entirely possible to imagine the two of you as one. that there was no version of reality without you together in it.
lazily rolling his hips up into you as you met him halfway, rolling yours back down to share half of the load. simonâs arms wrapped around your back, keeping you close and keeping you moving against him.
âsorry love, sânot gonnaâ be a long oneâ
you could only respond with a whimper, gently nodding your head into his neck as your lips press soft little kisses into the skin. you didnât need a long time, you just needed him.
unable to help yourself from noticing the couple new scratches heâd come home with, your fingers idly traced along them as he sucked in a breath at the feeling.
what you wouldnât give to keep him home and keep him safe.
a thought for another day as you felt yourself constricting around his cock, grinding yourself into his lap as firm muscle rubbed against your front.
tiny little gasps flitted from your mouth and into his ear, you could feel his body tensing up beneath you. it wasnât just with sheer tiredness, you knew this man like the back of your hand.
left hand coming out from under where youâd buried it behind his back, you ran the tips of your fingernails down simonâs chest. you stopped at his nipple, gently scraping along the peaked flesh until you heard him.
âneed yâto cum right now fâme pleaseâ
slipping your other hand between the two of you, you let your fingers wander against yourself until you could feel the tide breaking in the pit of your stomach.
body clenching involuntarily, your mouth dropping open against his skin. no doubt drool pooling against his collarbone as you came with a pathetic whimper. hips bucking a little crazy in his lap as his hand ran the length of your back.
âgod thatâs it, sweetâartâ
simon went rigid, gripping you tight like you might go somewhere as the dams broke and he filled you up. hot and sticky and dripping out of you and onto the waistband of his shorts.
he fell so still the only way youâd know he was still alive was the rise and fall of his chest beneath you. his arms were already starting to fall limp around you.
coming back from the bathroom, slipping off the rest of your clothes and adding them to the pile. simon wasnât asleep, there were no snores, but he had been rendered totally immobile.
pulling the remainder of his clothes off for him and settling in beside, you pulled the sheets up over the both of you as his arm began drawing you in.
draped across him, you could feel his lips pressing against the crown of your head.
âmâgonnaâ rock yâworld in the morningâ
you snorted a little laugh, nuzzling in closer as his breathing starts to even out. no use in replying, snorings about the only answer youâre going to get.
not that youâd mind.
he was home.
#im sorry i went for realism- weâre not getting crazy out of him the first night home#i just need him so carnally i would accept anything he had on offer#older bf!simon#simon riley smut#simon ghost riley smut#ghost smut#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon riley drabble#simon riley blurb#simon ghost riley drabble#simon ghost riley blurb#ghost drabble#ghost blurb
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"But if college was free, then people would abuse that and get useless degrees" hell yeah I would! If I could go to college without debt I would make it my job to get a degree in every little thing that interested me. I'd get a doctorate in film studies. I'd have a bachelor's degree for every science I like. I'd try to learn at least 5 languages with varying results. I would learn something "useful" like coding and then follow it up with a ""useless"" degree like art history. I'd be the world record speed run holder for getting every degree possible.
But I can't afford college without going into massive debt, so instead I spent the last 5 years trying to figure out what I am passionate enough about to consider going into debt over, because unfortunately being passionate about everything is extremely expensive to pursue.
#simon says#i love learning so much and I hate the USA's college debt system#once they make that shit free I will be unstoppable#this topic sprung up because I had the idea that im very academic and annoyingly analytical that I might as well get a degree in it#because without a degree you just seem like an autistic asshole#but with a degree? then you look like a CREDIBLE autistic asshole#don't worry I will still learn but I still want that funky piece of paper to tell everyone I learnt it#also there's some things that are VERY difficult to learn#like I would love to persue this topic further but unfortunately I would need help with that#also before you say 'try taking [blank] classes instead! it's less expensive than a degree!' im broke#my only learning resource is the library sorry about that#also this is not the post to give me unwarranted financial advice#finances are one of the topics I DO NOT care about and I WILL NOT listen to a word you say
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Idgaf abt how military works sorry yall but imagine the 141 gang having to do mandatory charity and no, not even Ghost can opt out of it regardless of how he says heâs honest to god not fucking fit to be visiting sick patients. But alas.
But they end up meeting you- frail, fragile, and sick you, no visitors around you. Though you look at them with curiosity and admiration, you keep yourself away, almost as if you donât want to bother them.
You canât help looking at them, though. Youâve been sick all your life- born to a mother who left you on the doorsteps of an overcrowded orphanage, left alone often and long for your body to just⊠fail you. You donât think youâve seen outside the orphanage walls and then these hospital grounds since your birth. You would be dead now if it werenât for the CEO of the hospital taking pity on you after you turned eighteen and the orphanage cleaned their hands off you.
And so, you canât help but envy them just a little. Strong, agile people in the military, bodies fit and healthy. Despite knowing they are always putting themselves on the line, constantly in danger, you canât help the longing you feel. Longing you donât realize is clear as day in your eyes.
The one to approach you first is the man you thought one of the prettiest men youâve ever seen. He introduces himself as Kyle, and despite your silence- your interactions with others that are not doctors or nurses are far and few, and you are painfully shy- but he is nice. Gentle. Easily keeps the conversation going despite. He is so easy-going he has you grinning and laughing in no time. It catches the attention of a the Scot with a mohawk, who joins in by sharing even wilder stories. And then the man with the scary ghost mask, so often in their stories, comes to your little crowd. He is big, scary if the nursesâ reactions are anything to go by, and yet the only thing youâve ever truly been afraid of is dying with a life not truly lived. So you donât flinch or cower from him, merely ask if he has anything interesting to share with you.
The last you speak with is John Price. Captain John Price. If there is a man that can embody a bear, it has to be him. You are sure of it. Especially when you witness him smacking the back of Kyleâs head lightly after a teasing comment.
Maybe your chances of a long, fulfilling life are slim but today, just for today, you allow yourself to envision a life with them. Such a strange desire, a useless and wistful one.
âThank you, for today.â You tell them quietly, when itâs nearing time to leave. Your hands are held in Kyle and Johnnyâs, frail and weak compared to theirs. You smile at them, squeezing lightly. âI think this is the most happy and content Iâve been all my life. I wonât forget today.â
And in return? Neither will they. How could they ever forget you, the sweetheart in the hospital bed, your sickness keeping you away from the joyful life you deserve?
The wonât forget you. Not at all. And when you start receiving gifts, polaroids and letters and texts, you already know who is sending them to you.
It makes things just a little easier- your life just a little brighter.
Other works + help me choose a title for this!
#cod x reader#tf 141#tf 141 x you#tf 141 x reader#cod#ghost x reader#john price x reader#soap x reader#gaz#gaz x reader#poly!141 x reader#if u squint???#im sorry this has a lot of irl inaccuracies but i cant be botheref#the lack of dialogue is bc i dunno how to write accents#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x you#noona.writes
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GHOSTSOAP // "you sweet fucker" MINICOMIC!!!
#cod mw2#john soap mactavish#simon riley#simon ghost riley#call of duty mw2#ghostsoap#john mactavish#soapghost#ghostsoap comic#ghost x soap#soap x ghost#jesus this took me so long to make#also sorry if ive been inactive here juggling 2 social media accounts is hard when i have finals to worry about#might have to again but come say hi on my twitter! BUT ill try to be more active here when im done with finals#ANYWAY YEAH SO MUCH HAPPENING THANK YOU FOR READING
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Random shower thought:
What if you and Johnny were so close that it actually perplexes the 141. Like when you two share clothes and food, platonically cuddle up under blankets, and use each other's chapsticks because it's all the same to you guys, but they kinda leave you be about it.
So it's almost not even that shocking when you walk into the shower after Johnny finishes up. He's clad in his towel, barely hanging off his hips, combing out his mohawk and your eyes go straight to his Manscape electric shaver.
Your eyes drift to his happy trail. "You mind if I helped you with manscaping?"
Johnny cocks a brow and looks at you through the mirror, amusement written all over his features down to that Cheshire-like smile. "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah, you trust me?" You pick up the shaver and examine it, and then glance over at him.
"With my life."
"So?"
He unravels his towel and--
"Gol-ly! You are one hairy sonuvabitch!" You chuckle, taking a gander at his junk that seems to be lost in the 'bushel'. "I mean I knew you were hairy but dayum!"
"A'right! Ye said ye'd do it!!" He laughs, pulling up the washroom stool. You sit and get to work, both of you forgetting that the bathroom door is open. Of course, Simon is the first to pass by. He's not too surprised to hear the sound of an electric shaver while the washroom door is ajar in a male-dominated space. Hell, even you have your moments.
But he literally chokes on his ale when he sees what you two are up to.
"Bloody hell, you two." He grumbles, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Hey there, L.t." Johnny toasts his water bottle at him before taking a swig himself.
Your head is the only thing saving Simon's eyes from seeing Johnny's junk and he's thankful for that.
"What's the matter?" Price's voice pipes up as he comes in the front door with Kyle, both holding bags of groceries. Simon doesn't say a word, causing Kyle and Price to share a look.
You simply shrug and go back to what you were doing. Curiosity gets the best of them and they get gander at what activity you two are engaging in.
"Jesus Christ." Price groans, trekking to the kitchen wanting absolutely no part in your shenanigans.
"Havin' fun there, y/n?" Kyle laughs, stuffing a opened bag of chips into his mouth.
You turn to him with a smile, "you see it's quite a hairy situation."
Simon and Price audibly groan while the rest of you share a laugh. Add that to the list of fuckery that goes on under the 141 household
#IM SORRY I HAD TO GET THIS OUT OKAY#BACK TO HESH I PROMISE#SORRRRRRRRRRRRY#john soap mactavish#johnny mactavish#call of duty x reader#call of duty imagines#cod#call of duty#task force 141#141#tf 141 x reader#johnny soap mactavish#johnny mactavish x reader#soap x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#captain price#kyle gaz garrick
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"đđđ đŸđđđđđ đđđŒđđđ!!!" ghost x reader
â© pairing: ghost x fem!reader
genre â© smut, 18+
warnings â© explicit and mature themes, v penetration, creampie, cock n ballz LMAO
-click here to be redirected to the cod masterlist !!
requests are open! <3
Calloused hands slide up the smooth skin of your sides, outlining the curve of your hip, waist and finally reaching your chest. The rough pads of his thumbs smooth over the plush of your tits, occasionally running over your sensitive nipples.
Plump lips ghost over your hot skin, leaving a burning trail of tender kisses behind. From the shoulder, to your collarbone, to the curve of your neck.Â
He grunts quietly as he buries his hot, heavy cock deep inside your puffy cunt, his girth stuffing you absolutely full and offering such a delicious stretch. Dragging achingly slow in and out allows his hot tip to hit that sweet spot within you with each stroke, driving you to the edge in just mere minutes. His hands run down to your waist again, settling on the plush rounding of your ass. Groping and grabbing at your soft love handles, head leaned back while he whispers about how good you feel, how your sweet pussy envelops him so nicely.
â vânever had pussy better thân this.. shit.. y/n.. squeezinâ me sâgood, hm? yeah.. fuck.."
His voice is hoarse and filled with lust. He raises his head back up to attach his lips with the skin of your neck. Your soft hands reach up to tug at his hair as your noises increase in volume, his brawny hips snapping into yours just a little bit faster as he loses more self control. His big, muscular arms wrap around your waist securely as he loses himself in the pleasure.
ââm gânna fill you sâ good baby.. youâd like thaâ, wouldnât you? mm?â
He pulls back to look at you, smugly watching your features contort in pleasure as your cunt throbs around him. A lazy smirk on his face as he trails one hand down to your abdomen, thumb rubbing firm circles onto your clit. One final thrust sends you over the edge, body shaking as it falls limp against his solid chest. Heâs not far behind, following soon after as his hips pump you full of him as he groans and praises you quietly.
#jesus i have never written for him before#i just had to give in im not sorry#simon riley x female reader#simon riley x reader smut#simon riley#simon riley x reader#cod#call of duty#ghost x reader#ghost x reader smut#cod smut
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