When I Was Younger I Didn’t Understand Why “may You Live In Interesting Times” Was Considered

I can imagine AbsoluteBastard!Johnny keeps his ear out for casualties on base so he can get in on that grieving widow action

He’ll show up to the funeral in his best, tell you some tale about how your man was a good one— saved his ass a few times, didn’t deserve to have things cut short, to be pulled away from such a beautiful woman—

It’s easy for him, in your vulnerable state, to charm you into letting him be the one to take you home from the service. Sits on your couch with you, lets you serve him tea to keep yourself busy, talks about all the things you miss about your man, inching his way closer and closer— comforting hand on your thigh, gently stroking.

It’s not long before his tongue is down your throat and he’s putting the framed photo of your man face down so the poor bastard doesn’t have to watch Johnny ruin you.

short comic based off that one post where sevika first meets silco by mistaking him for a butch lesbian (idk how the timelines work don't think too hard abt the ages lol)

Simon trying his damndest not to cum so soon, but it's a fuckin' uphill battle when yours and Kyle's pretty glossy eyes are looking up at him as you kiss, suck, and make love to his cock.

The Secret History

“But how,” said Charles, who was close to tears, “how can you possibly justify cold-blooded murder?’ Henry lit a cigarette. “I prefer to think of it,” he had said, “as redistribution of matter.”

The way I'm obsessed with this group, ugh!!!

Digital Illustration, 2025

Gorchart

Estranged Husband Nikolai

Inspired by @pricegouge 's post about ex husband Nikolai (they're different I promise)

You got married young, too young but he was a stability you needed at the time. A financial stability - within the first year of marriage you had a nice house, a nice car, a nice allowance to go shopping for whatever you wanted and a very, very nice ring to tie it all together.

It wasn't until you realized you spent more nights alone than with Nikolai that all those nice things lost their sparkle. Between arguments you stowed away your allowance to save up for a divorce. You knew he'd fight it out just to be petty.

And he did. You moved out into your own flat and within an hour he flooded your phone with texts and calls. An attorney you called had to decline due to Nikolai contacting them first. You watched as your savings slowly drained.

One night you finally broke and called him back for the first time in months, begging for him to just sign the papers. You'd return everything; the car, the clothes, the jewelry, your ring. You just wanted to move on.

"No."

He agreed to give you an allowance again, let you live in your "little flat" and live how you wanted but the two of you had made a promise and he was a man of his word. Until death.

Several years later and your ring sat at the bottom of your jewelry box. You had a career, friends, a few dates here and there - all the stability you craved in your youth. Nikolai still loomed over you.

His visits were infrequent and random. He still acted like the two of you were in the honeymoon phase. Making you breakfast in the morning, bringing flowers with him, making you come over and over.

You almost fall for it. You think about letting him back in your life, trying this marriage thing again. You're older now. You have a life outside of him.

He thinks about it too. Lips against your ear as the head of his cock brushes against your womb, "maybe a baby will fix us?"

Simon Riley, who discovers (and accepts) that he has a raging Mommy kink on a random Saturday, when he meets you in the supermarket around the corner of his flat, where you click your tongue at him in reprimand, ogling him shamelessly as he checks out the new flavours of Ramen noodle cups.

And his spine goes rigid, when you address him directly.

"Big lad like you needs a proper meal," you remark, pushing your grocery cart full of fresh meats, produce, and other healthy goodies past him. "In my humble opinion." You add, nearly cooing at him as he dares a side glance from behind his balaclava.

Within seconds, his eyes flicker to your left hand on the cart, checking for a wedding band, checking for anything that could help him figure out who you are, really.

His fingers dig into the plastic cup that looks comically tiny in his hands, fingers nearly denting the fabric as he tries to come up with a witty, dry remark to keep you from leaving, to start a bloody conversation for once, but then you hit him with a "Have a good day, love." and his breath catches in his throat like someone punched his solar plexus.

By the time you round the corner to the next aisle over, his cock is so painfully chubbed up in his jeans, Simon fears he might faint from the sudden rush of blood down south.

And he doesn't quite know what he's feeling in this moment, but he puts the Ramen back into the shelf, boots squeaking on the linoleum floor as he turns on his heels to give chase like an abandoned pup who might have just imprinted on his new mommy.

Oh, Simon's going to get that proper meal, one way or another—hoping you'll let him have your sweet cunt for dessert.

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you book one of those fancy, exclusive cruises, and on day four, you confront the man in the cabin next door. he smokes day and night on his balcony, puffing some disgusting-smelling cigars. even with the door shut, the scent seeps in, clinging to the bedding and settling into your clothes.

when he opens the door, your head dips back to meet his gaze. he's weathered and intense, the kind of tired that seems permanently carved into his face. eyes that look like they've forgotten how to soften or blink at a normal interval. he leans a thick arm on the frame, shirt hanging open enough to reveal a dense patch of chest hair, and a faded heart tattoo with some woman's name scrawled on the ribbon curling around it. you can't help but notice a pale tan line on his ring finger where a wedding band ought to be.

and it's cute how you put your foot down. asking him to take his nasty habit to the deck. you're polite but obviously frustrated. annoyed. you're mid-sentence when he interrupts, lip curling in a sly smile that, until recently, has always worked.

"let me make it up to you. smuggled a decent bottle onboard. help me finish it?"

he must still have it because the offer catches you off guard, your irritation softening before you can stop it. not twenty minutes later, with the sun dipping low over the water, he's got you on the balcony, his cigar at your lips, teaching you how to take it.

simon riley pisses on your leg when you shower together and he either does it and has a smug little grin when you turn around with a blank stare (unamused but also unbothered, used to his antics by now) or he’s standing super close, one hand on the back of your neck to force very direct eye contact, and the other holding his dick to your thigh… he might even aim the stream just below your belly button

he's marking his territory. he's probably ticked off because some asshole smiled at you when you were out running errands and you didn't immediately snap at him that you already had a man.

thinks it's funny when you squirm and try to pull away because it's gross, you say. that's the point. he's gonna get it through your thick skull that if you're gonna entertain men by being cutesy and flashing your pretty smile at them then you have to deal with the consequences.

beautiful work, as always! Now what if I nonchalantly slip my hand down their pants? Like a stress toy....or ball, I guess....stress balls?

Gaz: the flincher. He’ll always be a little tense if you slip your hands in there without warning and grab his balls. He’s one of those people where if the cops drive by he’s like “this is it they’re gonna take me away” even though he literally hasn’t done anything so when you grab his balls he’s like “this is it I must’ve done something and now my nuts are gonna get gorilla gripped”. And what’s crazy is that he accepts that fate straight away.

Soap: he’s getting hard about it the minute the tip of your pinky breaches waistband.

Ghost: the number 1 fan of “just playin’ with ‘em”. Loves to mindlessly paw at you just to relax. So he’ll be 100% into you treating him like a stress toy.

Price: laughs and shakes his head. “Yeah, sweetheart, they’re still there.” Also in the very back of his mind he is wondering if there’s a chance testicular massage can contribute to rate of conception but he’ll never say that.

johnny ⊹₊⟡⋆