#what the fuck Simon

[shotmrmiller]

your superior finding out about the secret praise kink you didn't know had a name because you'd always been called an over achiever, a goody two shoes. never gave anyone any trouble, nose burrowed in a book since you had knobby knees and a library card.

you'd thought it normal that the apples of your cheeks burned when praised after giving your teacher the drawing you'd made for them the night before. that heat spread from the center of your chest up when your first boyfriend/girlfriend whistled at the sight of you outside of uniform. that warmth settles in your belly when you get a pat on the back from your platoon leader firm enough to force the air out of your lungs because you'd disassembled and cleaned a glock with the ease of a professional.

apparently it wasn't.

after weeks of training with the fabled task force, weeks of sharing elbow room with the team, weeks of soaking up the dizzying praise from the captain ("did real good out there, eh? can always count on you." you didn't question the throb betwixt your thighs, taking care of it with a cute little bullet like you've always done since joining the military)

you're confronted by the worst of the lot. ghost catches you in a break room, your back to him, hands clutching a cup of coffee that's more sludge than liquid, its warmth barely seeping through the styrofoam.

his figure fills the doorway, shoulders nearly brushing the frame. your first thought is that his brows aren't twisted together and he lacks that cold, blank look in his eyes so your death isn't in the nearest of futures. the second is that when he's not fully covering his face, the outline of his jaw is quite visible, looking sharp enough to cut.

then he crosses his sculpted arms over his chest, seams straining against the expanse of his muscles, head tipped to the side.

he moves with the keen curiosity of a predator sniffing around a newborn fawn, gaze intense yet inquisitive, assessing your every detail with a menacing interest.

"you ever gonna tell me you've a praise kink, bird?" the question sends a chill through your veins before turning into a fiery rush as it races at twice the normal speed.

praise kink? no. surely not. doesn't everyone like to receive compliments?

"sure. i don't mind gettin' told i've an impressive cock but that's bed talk. you look ready to bend over 'nd show us how slick tha' pretty cunt can get over a rufflin' of hair and a couple of empty words."

that has you positively reeling, fingertips cracking the cup in your hands, pulse on your neck fluttering. you feel a cornered, skittish animal, ready to flee lest your life come to an end in his maws.

but as usual, the cruel man more creature than person, twists the knife he's dug into you with a certain ruthlessness only he can muster.

"so be good for me, eh? love your praise? earn it."

you've always been an over achiever, proven once again by the way you take him to the root in one long, broad stroke with any complaints at the sheer size of him resting firmly behind your clenched teeth.

"tight little thing, spread open over me like you were meant for it. for me." he runs a gloved thumb over your swollen bottom lip. "there's tha' look. drivin' me bloody insane when you gave kyle tha' molten gaze. none o' tha' now, yeah?"

he creeps his ungloved hand down to circle your pearl with the spit-slick pads of his fingers, drawing in a sharp breath when your walls flutter and constrict around his cock at the feel of something other than your toy giving you the relief you need after a hard day's work.

"bloody fuckin' 'ell."

ghost claims a fistful of hair, pulling you closer to him, his breath warming the stinging, throbbing mark he bit onto the delicate skin of your neck. the shuffling of feet right outside the door snap you out of your daze, fingernails sinking into the bulging muscle of his chest but he has none of it.

he uses your hair to direct your focus back onto him and even though he'd only given you a leading tug you felt some strands of your hair come off with a pop.

"easy. can't see your pretty face when i'm fuckin' ya if your lookin' away."

your expression twists into what you hope is bliss when he bucks his hips, your whimper drowning out his groan when he hits on something new.

something you want him to keep hitting.

"exactly like i'd thought."

everything else blurs together after that, and only when you're back in your room using a warm cloth to clean yourself up do you remember the other things he'd rumbled.

(inside o' ya, make you mine-)

(-get 'bout bein' with anyone else-)

(-ll to myself-)

you touch your tender pussy with gentle fingers at what he'd said in the end.

(leave tha' f'me, he swipes your hand away, i'll get ya there, pet.)

if price's compliments take a nose dive off a cliff you don't notice because you're getting your daily fill of them and ghost after dinner every night. kyle keeps them to one word and soap likes to tempt fate as always.

[spurbleu]

think it’s really funny to imagine the younger men of the 141 realizing that price is actually super good with women.

soap plays knight- shows off to gawking birds, kyle’s pretty boy eyes and sharp tongue garner plenty of attention, and all simon needs to do is sit in the middle of the bar, waiting till a sweet thing asks him ‘what a big man like him is doing alone?’

price isn’t as engaged. let’s his boys have fun, but for the most part prefers to hang back. enjoy his liquor and cigarettes- let them do their thing. course, doesn’t go unnoticed. which spurs their assumption it’s not a ‘he wont’ and instead a ‘he cant’.

“‘fraid they might not like you, capm’?”

“aye gaz, play nice. ye know ta old man’s sensitive.”

“lost his spark, i reckon.”

they rib him for weeks on end about being an old man, no game, out of his prime, ect ect. it’s all light and fun of course, and combat keeps them busy enough that the jokes start to be forgotten. doesn’t occur to them that price has just been biting his tongue since the first blow.

until- night off. pub lights, tallboys and pretty women. familiar scene, type of place that has been in nasty dreams for weeks. kyle and soap are assessing the room, and simon’s silently following along. it takes them a minute to realize they’re captain is gone- but not 10 seconds to find him again- with a sweet, gorgeous bird on his arm by the bar.

silently, they watch as he effortlessly charms her. they count how many times she laughs, how eager she is to hold his arm, how, within in minutes, they’re already cozied up on a booth, nursing beer and making eyes.

and why wouldn’t she? classically handsome, mature, cute smile, a rugged exterior with a gentle execution. it’s a no-brainer for her when he offers to ‘get out of here’, and hold the muscles that breech from his shirt. doesn’t catch the way he glances over to a corner of the pub as they make their leave, small smile tugging at the burs of his mustache as he clocks the shock of his men’s faces under low lighting.

soap and kyle’s jaw break, meanwhile simon lets out a barking laugh.

“old man’s still got it.”

needless to say, all three men said nothing about losing his charm at the next debrief.

[amikoroyaiart]

Some 22 and 09 angst doodles

[hopelesslonelyghost]

has anyone seen those tiktoks where it goes “if i die don’t look for me i’ll come to you?” and it’s like a cat or a puppy….

yall know where this is going …..

:)

what if you spoke about that with your boys. just randomly one afternoon when all five of you are chilling in the living room watching a movie and you’re just like, “if i die i’ll come back as a cat” and they all just whip their heads towards you and you’re like “what?”

the only one who bites the bullet is simon, who snorts and asks, “wha’ type o’ cat would you be, love?” and price is lowkey highkey glaring at him because why the fuck is he encouraging this?

you just shrug, “i think maybe a black cat. i’ve always had a soft spot for them.” and that was the end of the conversation because the movie got to the good part and you shushed everyone.

what if you died on a mission. ambushed and shot dead in front of your squad. just like that, you’re gone.

what if one day a couple of months later when your boys are visiting your grave they’re all sat on the grass when all of a sudden a black kitty comes meowing up to kyle and immediately jumps in his lap and begins to purr and knead at his jeans.

what if all of them just freeze because they remembered that conversation you all had years ago about you coming back as a cat. a black cat.

what if kyle picks the kitten up, staring at it with tears in his eyes and just holds the tiny feline up to his face and whispers, “you really came back.”

what if they take the kitty home, bathe her and cuddle her until she falls asleep.

what if they all cry themselves to sleep that night because they just miss you so much but you really kept your word because even in the afterlife you’re right there in the form of a rambunctious kitten that loves to sun gaze just like you did. that loves to sit on their laps just like you did. that loves to nap at all hours of the day just like you did. that loves to sometimes spend time alone just like you did. that loves to leave wet kisses on their cheeks just like you did. that is just as clumsy just like you were.

what if one day they all come home to their fur baby staring at a framed picture they have of you. smiling and trying to cover your face from the camera. they remember you weren’t fast enough, and that flick of you is now one of their most precious memories.

what if the little void looks back at the boys and chirps a soft greeting. happy to see them back and running over to them and rubbing themselves against their feet, welcoming them back home.

WHAT IFFFFFFFFF

[bi-writes]

his phone is ringing. he's startled, because no one calls him. he doesn't think anyone even has his number. when he flips it over, it's just a mess of digits, but the area code is familiar. (18+, kinda dark, mw3 spoilers)

he's curious. too curious. he has to answer it, even if he knows he won't respond. he needs to hear someone's voice because the ones in his head are clawing at the inside of his skull, and he needs to ward them off, even if just for a minute.

he picks it up. and he waits for the greeting.

"h...h-hello?"

it's a soft voice. a woman's voice. he frowns, but he says nothing. there's a gentle sniffle on the other end, and then she talks again, a bit shakier this time.

"h-he...he said you might be like this," she whispers. "said...said you might not talk. but...he said you would answer. said you'd always answer."

his head snaps up. suddenly, he's sitting up straight, at attention, and he squeezes his free hand into a fist and nearly punctures the skin with his blunt fingernails. something sharp hits his chest, and his heart drops into his stomach. he tastes acid.

i guess he was right all along. johnny had a bird. and he left her behind, too.

"i-i...i can't--" you stutter, sucking in a shaking breath, and ghost grunts, biting his tongue, wanting to taste blood. every time he thinks he has found his center, something throws him off. the jingle of his dog tags in the bedside table's drawer. the flash of blue in someone's eyes only to realize it isn't him, he's fucking gone, he's dead and so am i.

the sound of his bonnie lass, soft and sweet as she cries into the phone.

the line cuts. you drop the phone, covering your face with your hands, and you sob into your palms. you haven't moved from this place on your couch. everything reminds you of something that once was, and when you found the number on the back of a worn picture tucked neatly into his bible, you called because he told you if you needed him, he would answer.

it's past midnight when the door opens. you're still in the same place, strewn about the cushions where you've been for days, you think. you turn your head, and he nearly has to duck his head to come into your space. when he steps into the moonlight, you see the skeleton mouth of his mask, and you just blink, watching him come closer.

johnny always told you that if something happened, ghost, simon, whatever the fuck he would be calling himself when he would inevitably show up, that he would support you. but you didn't know how. you didn't think to ask, because johnny was all smiles and warm glows, and ghost is a dark cloud that threatens what grows.

but johnny was right.

he supports you when you climb up over him, settling down with your thighs around his head. he supports you when you bend, dragging your warm cunt over the flat of his tongue and chasing the high that you've missed for so long. and he supports you when you cum, scarred cheeks hollowing as he sucks at the skin of your thighs, following the trails of slick that drip from you, letting it guide him right back to where he belongs, inside of you, around you, making you forget what's missing.

yeah. johnny's always right.

[technically-human]

Can you draw something with Doom Patrol!Edwin and Netflix!Edwin?

Maybe something about Dp!Edwin talking about his feelings for Charles with N!Edwin?

It's just something I've been thinking of, make it a little angsty?<3

Glad you asked

ko-fi

[siren-141]

unholy

summary: you get picked up by a mechanic shop owner after your car breaks down. the night turns into something that you both needed. pairing: mechanic shop owner Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader warnings: car sex, age gap (reader is at least mid-20s, simon is about 40 in this one), slight size kink if you squint, semi-public sex but not really (in reader's driveway but nobody's around), fingering, oral (m rec), justified cheating (not against reader; simon's married but his wife fucking sucks and is cheating on him already) word count: 2.8k a/n: so this actually took me two months to write lol but enjoy :)))

COD masterlist ☾ main masterlist

18+ only, minors DNI

This was honestly the last thing you needed.

Standing on the side of the road, you looked at your pathetic car, tire barely hanging onto the wheel after it was blown out. You hadn’t even realized that you were speeding down the old road, let alone that you were flying over a fairly deep pothole. You realized it though when you had to hit the brakes and saw the smoke from your front passenger side rising up.

It was just around midnight, and you had just left the bar where a local band had been playing. You needed a pick-me-up after the week you’d have – hell, after the month you’d had. Busy in school, assignments coming at you non-stop, dealing with being newly single and frustrated. Why did guys have to suck so much? Whatever – no time to think about that now.

Calling a few tow truck services, there was no luck. Either you were too far out or too expensive, taking advantage of the female voice they were talking to to jack up their prices. Family over an hour away and friends that were close enough to come get you, but you couldn’t leave your car here on the side of the road, who knew if it would still be there in the morning? All you could do was thank the gods that you had taken the back roads home, choosing the scenic route so you could blast your music and take your time getting home, instead of going on the interstate and having a blowout.

While you were tapping away at your phone trying to think of different options, you could see headlights in the distance. Squinting, you couldn’t decide if you wanted the person to stop or if you’d rather take your chances being out at night alone. Watching as they got closer, you breathed a sigh of relief as you watched the truck pull off to the side of the road just up ahead.

The door opened, and out came this hulking of a man. Easily 6’4”, shoulders broad as ever, sauntering over to you in a scuffed up pair of work pants, a white shirt that wasn’t so white with all the oil stains on it, and an unzipped black jacket. You couldn’t really see his face, a plain black mask covering from his nose down. From his look alone, you didn’t know if you should be turned on or afraid for your life – somehow, you chose the first.

“You okay?” he called out, voice deep and gruff.

“Yeah, I just-” you sighed, cutting yourself off. “Left the bar earlier. Tire blew out, I hit that pothole back there. Towing companies are either too far out or charging too much.”

He nodded his head, walking around to inspect your wheel. He squatted down and even as close to the ground as he was, he still came up to your stomach. Fuck, this guy was big.

“I can get a ride home but I don’t want to leave my car out overnight, probably wouldn’t be here by the time I came to get it tomorrow,” you explained, fidgeting with your phone. You could see the man’s shoulders and back move, almost like he had scoffed at your suggestion.

“Nonsense,” he stood back up, walking closer to you – taking in how you looked. Black lacy top with dramatic bell sleeves on it, a flowy black miniskirt. Platform boots that made you a few inches taller, but still much smaller than him. There was no way on earth that he’d have seen you and not pulled over to help. “I can call one of my guys to come pick up your car and bring it to my shop to stay overnight. I can bring you home if you wouldn’t mind, your friends wouldn’t have to wake up and drive out here.”

You weighed your options and somehow, that was the best one you had. “Okay, yeah. Thank you.”

About 10 minutes later, a man pulled up in a tow truck, having the man move his truck from in front of you so he could back the tow truck up to the front of your car. As the man got out of the car, you saw that he was attractive too – dark brown skin that looked as smooth as ever, sparkling eyes that smiled kindly at you even though it was half past midnight. Grey sweats and a black hoodie with a mechanic shop logo on the front – you guessed that they worked together. You stood back as you watched the two men hook up your car and load it up.

“Thanks Gaz, owe you one.”

“‘s no problem, Simon,” Gaz clapped him on the shoulder, giving you a quaint smile and wave before getting into the tow truck and hauling your car back the way he had just come from.

–

“So,” you said as you got into the truck with your savior for the night. “You just know a 24/7 road service guy, huh?”

“Mhm,” he said, driving down the road. “I own that mechanic shop a couple miles back that way. Opened it up whenever I retired. He works with me.”

You nodded your head, keeping the conversation light. You figured he wasn’t one for nonsensical small talk, considering he had been quiet so far, only really saying what was needed. You could appreciate that.

“So where’d you retire from?” You asked him, looking out the side window at the trees starting to disappear the more you got into town.

“Military,” was all he said, still keeping it short and light. You hummed, figuring he’d talk more about it if he wanted to.

“What do you do?”

Your eyes unfocused from the trees, and you shifted in your seat. “I’m in school, grad school. Work in one of the offices on campus during the week. Gets boring but it pays for my schooling, and I enjoy being there, so that’s what counts I guess.”

It was silent for a minute.

“Got out of the military couple of years back, whole squad actually retired together. Came back, married a nice girl. Two step-kids – teeangers, really. Boy and a girl.”

You almost deflated in your seat. Of course, you shouldn’t have expected much – your love life was filled with disappointments littered throughout. Maybe his friend Gaz was single. But this was still a kind stranger that thankfully was not a serial killer, and you were still grateful for all of his help tonight.

“Oh, that’s nice.” He grunted, rolling his eyes at the statement. Whoops.

“She’s busy at her office. Works at one of the law firm buildings downtown. Got her sister watching the kids at her house.”

“Thought they closed at 5..?” you asked, eyebrows creased in confusion.

“They do. The CEO stays late sometimes though. Think she just wanted an upgrade from a shop owner.”

Oh.

“Sorry,” you said quietly, focusing your attention back on the buildings going past you.

“So you went to the bar by yourself?” he asked, cutting the silence once again. You confirmed for him, telling him your friends either had work that night or just couldn’t make it for some other reason.

“Mm. Boyfriend didn’t come out with you then?” Now you snorted, rolling your eyes.

“No such thing. Actually just left him about a week ago. Too immature,” you started. “He could never keep up with anything…no job, no hobbies. Never any time for me either way.”

“Hm. Sounds like you need a real man in your life then, yeah?”

You could feel your face heat up. Shifting in your seat to press your thighs together without him noticing, you tried to keep your cool. You weren’t dumb – you could see that Simon was older than you at least by 15 years. Not only did he have a job, but he owned the damn place. Established. Smart. Married. But, married to a cheating wife in a loveless marriage. And here you were: had a job, in school. Established for your age. Frustrated. Sexually frustrated.

“Guess so,” you looked over at him, meeting his eyes briefly until you had to look away, face heating up. He focused back on the road.

It was silent after that. The radio played classic rock on its station, and you found yourself deep in thought about everything going on – about the man giving you a ride home. Your leg bounced up and down nervously, and didn’t stop when he pulled into the driveway of your apartment. Biting at the inside of your lip, you didn’t even realize that you had made it yet.

You could hear him sigh, and it snapped you out of your thoughts. Before you could even think about thanking him and going inside, he reached over and grabbed your thigh. “Stop the bouncing, love.”

Your lips parted, not expecting his actions. Your leg stopped bouncing, your heart taking its place, hammering in your chest. You watched his thumb run across your skin before you looked over at him, honey eyes meeting yours.

His hand crept up your thigh, squeezing at the plushness of it before continuing upwards. He gently nudged at your other leg, and you caught the hint, slightly spreading them – just enough room for his hand to fit in the middle. His finger lightly rubbed over your clothed clit, feeling the lace of your panties under the rough pad of his fingertip.

He looked down, taking off his mask and carefully putting it on his gear shift. When he looked up at you again, you scanned his face. He was easily one of the most attractive men you had seen – amber-colored eyes looking right back at you, a scar running through his eyebrow and one cutting into his top lip.

He pressed a little harder against your clit, a shiver going down your spine and a small gasp coming from you. You were sure that if you looked in a mirror, your pupils would have been completely dilated at that point.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, leaning in closer but continuing his movements. You could see his hardened cock straining against his pants.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you breathed against him, his lips just inches from yours.

“I know,” his fingers slipped past the lace and began to rub directly onto your clit, dipping down to bring your slick up for more lube. You held back a whimper at the feeling of his finger rubbing circles into your nub, legs opening wider. “So tell me to stop.”

His fingers pushed into you, going slow to let you adjust to the new feeling. You can’t remember the last time anything other than your toys or your own fingers was down there. Two fingers slid in and out of you, and you could hear the sound of your slick, very audible in the small cab of his truck. Crooking his fingers, he pressed against your sweet spot, and you couldn’t hold back the whine that came from your lips. “Answer.”

“I can’t,” his lips crashed against yours, your hand coming up to the back of his neck to pull him closer. His tongue slipped into your mouth, taking control – you let him. There was nothing more that you wanted in this moment than for him to take control. His lips fit perfectly against yours, slotted as you kissed for what seemed like forever before he pulled away.

“Take these off,” he snapped the waistband of your panties and you rushed to slide them off, leaving your skirt on. Your hands shook with anticipation as you kicked the fabric off from around your boots, leaving it on the floor of his truck. His large hand cupped the side of your face, leading you right back to him to kiss you again. You reached over to grab at his bulge, and he lifted his hips up just enough to slide his pants and briefs down to his thighs and free his hard cock. Wrapping your hand around it, he groaned and you broke the kiss to get a good look at him.

Eyes going wide, he was huge. You could have assumed, given the size of his body, but fuck. Your fingers could barely touch when wrapped around his cock, vein running on the underside of it, his tip growing red and leaking. “Shit,” you whispered, eyes fixated on him. You gave him a couple of strokes, thumb pressing on top of his tip, and his head tilted back until it hit the headrest of the seat, eyes closed. You couldn’t hold yourself back anymore, feeling like you were going to go into a frenzy.

Leaning down, you took him into your mouth slowly, moaning around him from the taste. “Up,” he said, tapping your back, and you popped off of him, repositioning yourself to kneel sideways in the passenger seat. Going back to your previous actions, you bent down and took him into your mouth again, lapping at his head while you stroked the rest of him with your hand. You could feel him shift, and then felt his hand gripping at your ass.

Even though you couldn’t see it, you could feel that his entire hand covered most of your ass, and you could only imagine what it looked like. His fingers ran through your cunt, feeling the slick that had gathered there and smeared on your thighs. He toyed at your clit before pushing two of his fingers back in, making you moan around his cock. The feeling of being filled pushed you, bobbing your head down further down his cock.

“Fuck, you feel so good, love,” he breathed out, squeezing his eyes shut before opening them again, taking in the sight in front of him. Pretty girl sucking his cock, hair pulled back out of your face with his large hand, back arched in the seat next to him as he fingered your tight hole.

You raised your head up, letting spit pool in your mouth before letting it drop onto his cock, adding more lubricant to suck him off easier. As you went back down, he picked up his pace. You arched your back even more, pushing back against his hand for more, and he pulled your hair a little tighter in his hand.

He could tell you were about to cum – you didn’t even have to say it. He could feel your walls tightening around his fingers, could see how you’d deepen the arch every time he hit that magic spot in you. He could feel you unintentionally slowing down.

Crooking his fingers just right, he pushed deeper into you and that was your undoing. Your voice was partially muffled as you came, moaning and whimpering around his cock as much as you could, stopping all movement with your tongue but unintentionally sinking down further on him as your whole body tightened from your orgasm washing over you. Goosebumps rose on your skin as you preened at the euphoric feeling running through your veins, head a little dizzy from the lack of oxygen and the blood pumping hard through you.

Seeing you come undone and your brain essentially melt from the orgasm was the last straw for Simon. Pressing his head back into the truck’s headrest, he groaned as he spilled down your throat, large hand squeezing at your ass enough to leave reddened skin behind. His hips pushed up just the tiniest bit each time more cum would spurt out, and you gladly swallowed it all.

Your mind was a haze as you pulled off of him, weakly sitting up and the both of you fixing your clothing. You adjusted back to normal in your seat, reaching down to grab your panties that had been tossed on the floor, and before you could even think of putting them back on or at the very least walking inside with them, the man beside you took them out of your hand. You watched as he pocketed them.

“Just something to remember you by, hm?” You looked down, hands fidgeting as a small smile crept on your face.

“Well…thanks for the ride,” you said awkwardly, avoiding eye contact as if your jaw wasn’t starting to ache from being stuffed full just minutes ago. Before you could grab for the door handle, Simon had cupped the back of your neck and kissed you again, this time gentler.

“Remember your car tomorrow,” he said, almost a whisper. From the look in his eyes, you knew that this was far from the last time you’d be meeting him under these circumstances. From the look in your eyes, he knew that you needed this just as much as he did.

Nodding your head, you gave him a small smile and left the truck, walking inside your apartment and shutting the door behind you. You listened to him drive off after he saw that you had made it in safely, and your head just spun. You don’t know what the hell just happened, but you’re glad it did.

[temeyes]

ghost sulks about the incident for weeks after...

[tojisun]

not even lying but i couldn’t stop thinking about biker!simon ever since 😭

just imagine biker!simon at the bar with his friends, lounging, waiting for the time to run because after this little after-work drinks, he’s going to drive home to your place. his attention is split between his phone and the chatter of his friends, laughing in bursts at whatever embarrassing thing mactavish is recounting, before turning back to reading the message you sent.

> wearin ur shirt tonight <33

his lips curl in a smile and his heart flutters at how cute you truly are. he types out a response, licking the back of his teeth at the thought of coming home to see you in his shirt, when the chatter dies down in the group.

he catalogues the change, swiftly shutting his phone off before tipping his head up to assess what caused the shift in the mood, only for his eyes to land on a small group of women hovering by their table.

“uh, how can we help you lasses?” johnny, ever the gentleman, asks.

while one of them does respond to johnny, another slides into the empty space beside simon with a giggle.

“hey,” she trills, batting her lashes at him.

simon’s hand tightens around his bourbon, the quiet satisfaction that filled him up throughout the night dissipating. he nods in acknowledgment before turning back to his phone, seeing that there was no immediate danger for him to focus on.

ignoring his obvious lack of interest, she wraps her hand around his wrist and tugs hard enough that simon has to turn his attention back to her. he does so with a sigh.

“it’s so stuffy here,” she says, fanning herself, her eyes drawn onto the helmet he stupidly brought with him inside the bar. she presses close, rubbing her tits along his inked arm. “wanna take me out for a ride?”

simon snatches his arm from her hold, his face pinching in irate. “no, not interested.”

she pouts, cheeks flushing and simon wonders how much of it was because of the alcohol and how much of it was because of shame. he flicks his eyes up to the rest of the group, narrowing his eyes at the unabashed glee in johnny’s face at seeing simon be cornered by someone who can’t take a fucking clue, before shooting a betrayed glare at price and garrick who are choosing to ignore him.

the girl’s friends are now left sitting awkwardly, watching as their friend flounders for simon’s attention – something he’d never give, anyway.

“c’mon, big boy,” said friend croons, twirling her hair. “don’t wanna take a sweetheart for a drive?”

simon sighs, done for the night. “again, not interested," he replies. "'sides, i’ve got the sweetest darling waiting for me at home. i don’t want you, miss.”

and with that, he stands up, snatching his helmet from the table and nodding his goodbyes to his friends. he doesn’t stay long enough to hear her sputter or watch her storm off because simon’s already out the door and walking to the parking lot.

he wears his helmet and slides his gloves on, before fishing for his phone to finally send you that text that he had been wanting to send.

See you soon, sweetheart. <

pocketing his phone, simon finally hefts himself up onto his bike and kickstarts the engine, the machine purring underneath him. he adjusts his helmet, zips up his jacket, before caressing the embroidered letters on his gloves. he traces the initials of your name, feeling his heart fluttering, and brings his gloved knuckles to brush his lips against them.

snapping the visor down, simon revs up the engine and drives off, his thoughts full of nothing but you.

(ext02.) (ext.03) // mlist!

[cutter-kirby]

come on simon

[laswells-ashtray]

I know everyone jokes about the 141's reactions to Price talking about shaving his beard, or even Nik's.

Gaz cuts him off before he can even finish suggesting it. "No."

Soap is less respectful, he just tilts his head and goes "I thought you liked the 70s pornstar look?"

Ghost gives him a subtle shake of the head. Years back, he interacted with a beardless Price, and while he wasn't ugly, Simon just doesn't think he could adjust to seeing it again.

Nik just privately threatens to put an end to their sex life until the beard grows back, but John remains undeterred. [Nik would never stick to the threat.]

It's Laswell who puts an end to the idea. "Remember Bulawayo?" "You're right, I'm too old to be bare-faced."

[shotmrmiller]

the trope of you accidentally catching a peek of someone having sex with another and instead of fucking off you stick around and hope they don't find out except they already know but:

you're roommates with active military soap and it works because he's hardly there, he's real easy to be friends with and when his hands wander it's not totally repulsive because he's hot.

and then he brings his boyfriend over and you'd only meant to get some ice cream from the freezer but they left the door cracked open. you, as the good friend he doesn't fucking deserve, close the door while keeping your eyes glued to the ceiling and go about your day.

(you're so teasing him about the fact that he sounds like a bleating sheep while getting rawdogged lmaoooo)

but the one that catches you in the kitchen minding your own business isn't soap. it's his boyfriend. and his boyfriend is as forward as a freight train on a downhill slope.

"saw ya lookin' at us."

? you did no such thing.

"if ya were lookin' for a fuck, coulda just said so."

you were doing no such thing but it doesn't matter because you're but a simple hot blooded individual and having two doting meat heads fighting over who gets to taste you first is something out of a romance book.

[gomzdrawfr]

Getting creative with recognition

uh not so cute/funny random drabble of the AU:

warning: not proofread and just me rambling, bad writing LMAO

[pinetreeshack]

oh my god. wow. absolutely magnificent

[larrylimericks]

16Oct24

He took the stage first, just a boy, Now the first one to leave, just a boy. Nothing’s right, hearts are torn, For Liam, we mourn — Knowing Payne means we got to know joy.

[bi-writes]

thinking about fucking your lieutenant without taking any of your clothes off. (18+)

let's get one thing straight--it's not that you don't want to take your clothes off. it's that ghost doesn't.

he hasn't gotten over it. you're not sure what it is, but you felt it when you tried to put your hands under his tact vest for the first time--the tension of his body, the flinch that had you pulling your hands back as if your touch had burned him. you drool over your lieutenant, you have fucked yourself to stupidity many nights just thinking about him, but you don't want to cross any lines.

you did the mature thing--you asked. you asked him what it would take. what he might let you do. what he might be comfortable with. he swallows, voice low and gravelly, and he tells you that you can do whatever you want with him, but he doesn't want to take anything off.

fuck it, you think. suit yourself.

you can't help the noises. you're throwing your hips back, hands braced against the bedframe as you straddle your commanding officer. ghost is underneath you, knees propped up and boots planted flat on the bed, and he has his gloved hands rooted to your hips as you fit yourself right over his middle and bounce. it's a lot of effort to get off this way. with the added layers of clothes, you really have to put your back into it to get any stimulation on your clit, but once you found that sweet spot, the tip of his cock nudged against you just right, you found the momentum to give it to him good.

"fuck--" ghost chokes. you're so hot. your shirt is bunched up a little around your waist, and the neckline has dropped, and he's watching your tits bounce with your grinding hips as you chase your orgasm. he could tell you were close. as soon as you dragged your clit over the fat tip of him and found it, you became a fiend. your pace picked up, and he squeezed your ass with appreciation, and he couldn't look away from your tits, but he was sure you were wetting his cargos even fully-clothed.

"'m gonna come," you whine, and ghost fits his hand between your ass and squeezes, appreciating the fat of you as you show him just how good you'd ride his cock. your hips are working so hard, smooth, quick grinds that make his eyes roll back in his head.

"yeah? tha' good, innit?"

"oh--gonna come, gonna come--"

"give it t'me--"

you're shaking. you drop your weight on him, seeing stars, and you're buzzing with a dopey smile as you slow your hips. you kiss him through the mask, sticking your tongue out and licking over where his lips are before kissing him nice and sloppy.

when he turns you over, you just watch as he lowers himself down your body. with wide eyes, you're enraptured by the way he shoves your legs apart. he gazes down at you, mesmerized to see a wet spot on your cargos, and he hums before hiking the mask up over his nose and licking over his teeth.

"w-wait, ghost, what are you--ah!"

you jerk when a fat glob of his spit hits the seam of your zipper. he does it again, soaking the fabric, and you can't do anything but throw your head back and whine as he opens his mouth wide and shoves his face between your thighs.

it's really not so scary anymore. and now he needs the real thing.