Mdni ꨄ︎

Ghost wasn’t even looking for you two. He just needed to grab a goddamn med kit. That’s it. A simple in-and-out trip to the supply closet.

But the moment he opened the door, he knew.

Grunting. Breathing. Whispers. The thud of something hitting metal.

He paused in the doorway, completely still, staring into the dim room as his brain registered what he was seeing.

Soap. Shirt halfway off. Neck covered in bite marks. Mouth open in some silent, stunned expression of praise the lord and ruin me more. Hands gripping the edge of a crate like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

And you? Pressed against him. One hand buried in his hair, the other dragging slowly down his back, nails scratching like you were claiming territory.

You didn’t even look away when Ghost appeared. You just kept your body flush with Soap’s, breath brushing against his ear as you looked directly at Ghost and said,

“Occupied.”

Soap finally realized they weren’t alone, eyes wide as he choked out, “*Ghost—fuck—*this isn’t—”

Ghost held up a hand. “Nope.”

Just turned around and closed the door without another word. Stood in the hallway for a moment. Processing.

Then muttered, “They’re gonna burn this place to the ground and call it foreplay.”

He walked away. Found Gaz.

“Don’t go in the supply closet.”

Gaz blinked. “Why not?”

“They’re in there.”

Gaz paused. “Doing what?”

Ghost didn’t stop walking. “Pick a verb.”

https://www.tumblr.com/ink-n-shadow/763622525217423360/what-if-i-did-this-but-as-an-smau

Omg omg omg omg YES. 🙏🙏

i did it. i apologize for the woman i am now that i did this

NEW NAILS

𝜗𝜚 the texts where you get your nails done and show the CoD men in a special way

𝜗𝜚 characters: simon "ghost" riley, john "soap" mactavish, john price, kyle "gaz" garrick 𝜗𝜚 cw: smut themes (minors—DNI), reader is afab!fem, sending of nude photos, CoD men talking about your pussy (sometimes with personified pronouns)

𝜗𝜚 based on this amazing idea from @gothghostiie

©️ ink-n-shadow 2024

do not copy, plagiarize, steal, borrow, or repost any of my work without my expressed permission

Sorry for asking this question, but recently I really wanted to read something very sad (mmm... suffering ☺️) so I'm turning to you.

How would John react if he caught Nikolai with someone else? What would happen to their relationship then?👉👈

Oof. This one hurt.

cw: Nik cheats; I genuinely don't think he ever would, fyi. This was more an experiment in 'what if'. I thought about doing it from the perspective of 'they're not exclusive and Nik has had mixed messages', but I went for maximum pain.

Price had wanted to surprise Nik. Turn up at his hotel room, take him out, fall into bed for a bit, and then go pick up the kids from his sister's. The usual. He hadn't expected that day for his world to be ended by a pair of blue eyes and a jawline he could cut paracord with. Maybe ‘ended’ was a bit dramatic. Sure, it felt like it, but he had survived worse. He kept telling himself that. Over and over.

He'd never been one to cry, but he had blubbered like a baby behind the steering wheel of his Landie. The image of Nik with the blond in his arms, the hickie on his neck, kept circulating in his head like a taunt. It was there now as he stood in his office, Nik in the seat behind him, bright behind his eyes as he stared into space.

Price couldn't even look at him. When he did, he wanted to feel indignant rage, but all he felt was hurt. Misery. Betrayal. He needed his anger but all he wanted to do was cry more, and he no longer felt safe showing Nik that soft underbelly. He kept his face turned away.

“John, I…”

“I need t’ get tested,” Price said quietly, like Nik hadn't even spoken.

“I wore protection. I would not put you at risk of…”

“Really, Nik? Can I trust ya word on that?”

The words cut deep. Nik knew Price couldn't. It wasn't just their relationship he had discarded, but twenty years worth of implicit trust. The idea that Nik always had his back had vanished in a cloud of expensive cologne. Price lifted his left hand and ran his thumb over his wedding band.

“It was a mistake. I was foolish, I…”

“How many mistakes? Once, twice?”

“Twice.”

The knife sank just a little deeper. “So, you had to make sure then.”

“John…”

“Just him or have there been others?”

“No others.”

Price didn't respond. He just couldn't trust him. His thumb nail caught in one of the grooves of his wedding ring. Til death do us part. Did this count? It felt like death. His heart felt like it was about to give out any minute. “What did I do to deserve it?”

“You did nothing…”

There it was. The surge of rage. Price turned to look at Nik for the first time, his fists clenched and shaking. “Don't fuckin’ lie to me. No one shags some poxy bit on the side if they feel like they're eatin’ well at home. So what? What was it?”

Nik gazed up at Price with those warm brown eyes that had made Price fall in love with him. Had those eyes looked at the other bloke like that? Price felt his own prickle with tears again, but he made himself look.

Nik said nothing at first, and then his chin dropped as he sighed. “You are a brilliant father, a loving husband, but you are… busy.”

“Busy,” Price repeated, and he hated how his voice broke around the word. He turned away again, drew in a stuttering breath, the back of his wrist to his mouth.

“I made a… selfish choice. I…”

Price had taken a different role with the Army so they could have a family. Consultancy with a few away missions. It meant he commuted to base, but he could still do the bulk of domestic shit kids needed. He was busy. Busy building the life he thought Nik wanted. Perhaps they hadn't been intimate enough for a while, or…

“I will understand if you want a…” Nik swallowed, “...a divorce.”

“No,” Price said. “You ain't gettin’ off that easy. The kids need their dad, even if he's a lyin’, cheatin’ cunt. They don' need t’ know that. They worship you. And ‘m not doin’ the single father shit.”

“Then, how do we… what…”

“Open marriage. Can't trust ya not to do this again. You can shag who ya like, so can I. Wear protection, get tested every month. Kids don't see or get told any different. Then, when they've flown the nest, we sign the papers.”

Nik sat in stunned silence for a while. Price couldn't turn to look at him because a tear had escaped. The truth was the thought of being touched by anyone else disgusted him. He felt dirty now, like someone else’s dick had somehow touched him through Nik. Nik swallowed, and spoke finally. “I do not want anyone else.”

“At the moment. You jus’ got caught. Give yerself time.”

“John, please…”

“Is it the thought of someone else shaggin’ me, Nik? Is that what's hurtin’? Good. I hope it fuckin’ does.”

Fuck, he might just go and do it anyway. Find some random bloke at a club and let him go at it. Nik would see it, smell it. Maybe feel even a tiny shred of what Price did now. The thought of another man's hands on him made Price feel sick. He only wanted Nik’s. His heart broke all over again and more tears tracked down his cheeks.

“Then I would like to go to counseling,” Nik said.

“Whot for? So ya can get better at lyin’ t’ me?” Price asked, incredulous.

“We have another twelve years together. Maybe more. They do not need to be twelve years of suffering.”

“Shoulda thought of that before gettin’ yer dick wet in some twink.”

“Not for me, John. For you.”

“Get out my fuckin’ office before I decide collectin’ on your life insurance is a better shout.”

“John…”

“Now.”

The chair legs scraped as Nik stood. For a terrible second, Price felt his weight linger near. His entire body ached for those big arms to wrap around him, offer comfort to his broken heart, but he knew that act had been contaminated now. Poisoned. Nik had taken even that.

As the office door closed softly, Price managed to hold it together. The moment the footsteps had faded, he grabbed the chair Nik had been sitting in and threw it across the room. By the time he'd finished, his office looked like the CIA had been in to turn it over. He sat in the middle of it, his knees clutched to his chest, and sobbed until he was dry heaving.

He'd survived worse. But this was the first time in his life he'd wished it'd killed him.

in conclusion:

And stop inviting everybody to the cookout. (Especially just because they can do a lil two count and hold a tune)

Sinners spoilers without context.

Warm hearts in cold weather <3

(More wips and rendered artworks (18+) on my patreon ✨)

Hello! It’s been so so cold and snowy here lately and I’ve had to brush off my car whenever I leave because of the snow and it kind of had me thinking about neighbour!simon Riley who sees his little neighbour doing this and just refuses to let her freeze her but off. So eventually whenever she goes to leave her car is literally always cleared off and she’s just like. What??? Until one day she sees him doing it and runs out in her pjs to ask why. Anyways yeah I thought it was cute :p

You know honestly? This is so cute and I thought more on it.

Being Simon’s neighbor is so weird. He’s barely at his own place. He’s got almost no furniture or any personalization to speak of. But I don’t think this is your first neighborly exchange.

Someone’s gotta be gathering up all the junk mail for him so it doesn’t just become litter on his lawn. Someone’s gotta be raking up the leaves on his tiny patch of grass and taking them to the curb in autumn. Someone’s gotta be uprighting his unused bins when they blow down in the wind. And Simon knows it’s not the busybody next door who gives him dirty looks and says he dresses like a hoodlum when she thinks he’s out of earshot.

So Simon does what any emotionally well adjusted adult man would do. He falls in love with you. And no, he’s not going to say anything to you about it. Instead, he’s going to return these acts of service in, what is in his mind, a clear display of reciprocal courting. And that definitely means he’s not letting you suffer out in the cold. Man is clearing your car, shoveling your walkway, salting the sidewalk, everything. Mate’s gotta stay in the den in this kind of weather.

Which is not something he can bring himself to say when you run out in your Sanrio jammies to ask him why he’s going this. So he just tells you he’s used to the cold, and he doesn’t like seeing you freeze. Also his name is Simon, by the way. You should tell him yours. It’s the polite thing to do.

Johnny Mactavish x Kyle Garrick x female!reader, threesome, facesitting, oral, overstimulation

Thinking about riding Soap's face and yanking him around by his mohawk while Gaz blows him, watching his eyes roll as his hips buck and tongue fucks into your hole, smearing slick all over his face, driving him into overstimulation as he begs to come, cock leaking and Gaz lifting your hips to spit a mess of precome and saliva into his mouth before you sit back down. Gaz swallowing him all the way down and milking the come out of him with a finger in his ass, mercilessly pressing on his prostate as he shouts against your clit.

Letting him lay there moaning and come drunk as Gaz drags you back onto his cock, pounding into you, the both of you coming hard, Gaz moaning and biting your shoulders as you lick into Soap's mouth, sucking on his tongue, his hands squeezing roughly at your breasts.

Gaz licks sweat from your neck as you lift up off his cock, and you wait until he has Soap's arms pinned before you slide your cunt back over Soap's face. His moan is garbled, bubbling up through the mess of slick and semen, drowning between your thighs as you get your rhythm going again, Gaz working two fingers into him this time, using his strong gorgeous body exactly the way he wants.

MDNI 18+

loser simon riley unaware that he is largely endowed getting laid for the first time

cw: loss of virginity, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, simon is down bad

simon getting pussy for the first time and doesn’t know how to act

“fuck si, your huge,” your hand gently stroking his cock, as he tried his best to not come right there and then. everything felt like a wet dream, a pretty girl like you all dolled up fisting his cock as you kissed his neck, perched up on his lap. your pretty pink lace panties tossed on the floor as you grinned on his muscular thighs, the idea of his cock deep inside you made you feel little achy in between your legs.

“i don’t know if it’ll fit,” you whined as you rubbed it along your glossy cunt, his cock painfully hard as he smeared the pre cum all over you. “it’ll fit, i promise,” simon groaned when you gently nudged his sensitive tip to your soppy hole, barely in and he was already a mess.

he would make it fit, god he would do anything to feel your small cunt around him.

you sank down inch by inch, but the stretch was too much, burning slightly as your cunt accommodated to his length. “is it all the way in si?” your voice trembling as you bit down on your glossy lip, your body already trembling.

“almost half way,” his large tatted hands gently holding your sides, “please, i need all of you.”

simon didn’t care if he sounded pathetic, because he was. he was so god damn desperate to feel something other than his calloused hands, or the stupid flesh light that he got.

“please, jus’ a lil more, i’ll make you feel good, please.” he begged, barely half way in and your cunt felt so warm, so welcoming - he couldn’t just let you go.

slowly you took him all the way in, your body shaking as the prominent bulge in your stomach was displayed, your breaths coming out in pants.

“i’ll make you feel good, i promise.”

his thrusts were awkward at first, you were just so damn tight like you are sucking him back in, barely pulling out a few inches before slamming back into you.

“too big si,” your nails slowly digging into his skin as your gummy walls clenched around him. “you can take it, yer doin’ so well.” he cooed softly as his mind went hazy with pleasure, a guttural groan leaving his lips as he bounced you on top of him.

you were like his personal flesh light, so warm and loving, your sweet cunt tightly snug against his cock - god he wasn’t going to stop.

his thrusts turned sloppy, the sound of skin slapping filled the room as you bounced mindlessly on his cock. you were too damn cock drunk to even think, his fat tip hitting all of your sweet spots.

“si, i think i’m gonna come.” the comment alone snapped simon out of his trance. the thought of you clenching tightly around him, whilst you came on his cock, it dribbling down almost made him come right there and then.

he wrapped his tatted arm around your waist, pulling you to his chest as he thrusted into your cunt harshly, your body trembling trying to get away from the amount of pleasure. “stay here please, i’ll make you feel good,” simon mumbled as he held you tightly in his arms,

the moment you came so did he, the feeling of your walls clenching around him was too much, he wasn’t used to it after all - only the feeling of his rough palms and the loveless toy.

“did you just-”

“fuck ‘m sorry, you just felt too good.” he grimaced at his apology, his hands wrapped your waist as if he didn’t want to let you go. “jus’ one more please?”

his eyes glued to the way his cum slowly oozed out of your cunt.

tag list: @happysmappy @mydickishuge560 @prettyinpink-bimbo @dolli333 @madebyyicarus @l-otti @butlerslut @vampwifee @i-wanabe-yours @bluebarrybubblez @cinnamongrl2006 @akkahelenaa @yanfeiiiiii @actualpoppy @lilyalone @other-fandoms-reblogs @goonette6969

trim

MDNI

pairings: nameless male character (probably reads best as ghost) x buzzcut reader (implied afab) words: ~700 summary: he trims your hair. warnings/notes: some gender feelings but mostly comfort, got a silly transphobic anon a couple of days ago and wanted to ~write it out~ then read this heartwarming drabble by @secretsynthetic and was inspired :3

“hair’s gettin' long,” thick fingers card through your short hair, blunt nails scratching lightly at your scalp a moment later. the words are barely a murmur, but they make you shift uncomfortably.

“i know.”

“you growin’ it out?”

“do you want me to?”

you don’t know why you ask. he’s never given any indication that he cares about the length of your hair. no “wish i could run my fingers through it” comments while you’re cuddling or “miss having something to pull” during sex. in fact, he’s always been supportive of your little routines, the ways you make your life easier.

“up,” he demands, a quick swat to your thigh before he rises from the bed, leaving you to mirror him. you would do just about anything he told you to, especially on his first day back on leave. “get the chair outside, y’know the deal.”

with a small smile you slide your desk chair away from its spot in the bedroom, carefully carrying it around shelves and furniture until its strong legs plant into the grass in the backyard. the old towels are stacked in the hallway closet and you dig out the one smudged with hair dye from his last leave. you can’t remember what it was for, tinting his roots or your brows. but it smells like your favorite fabric softener and the slight musk of being locked away as you pin it around your shoulders and settle back into your chair outdoors.

he’s already waiting for you, your preferred guard – marked with a small heart in permanent marker – secure on the clippers as they hum to life. “look up,” he instructs, and as you obey you’re met with a clear, blue sky before your eyes close and you allow yourself to relax.

he starts at your hairline, sweeping back in long, straight strokes, perfected from the trims you’ve requested over the years. almost every two weeks, schedules permitting, ever since you described the hassle of getting it done at a shop. the buzzcut was a matter of convenience most days, but others a symbol of an identity hovering over the tip of your tongue. it was meant to make your life easier, and yet every time you sat in a chair and adorned one of those shiny black capes, the nosy questions and patronizing compliments would wipe any semblance of peace from your mind. the horrible disappointment that came when one hairdresser looked you in your reflected eye and said, “it'll look better with earrings.” the glances of disapproval or sympathy, questioning whether you’re sick or just odd.

what if you were neither? what if it were just hair? it’s not, unfortunately, but you wish it were.

“chin down,” he hums and you follow.

the base of your skull is always your favorite. when the sound of the large clippers die out and the smaller, almost tinny buzz of the trimmer fills your ears, your bare toes happily tap and dance over the ground. he chuckles, reminding you to settle before his cool fingertips meet the skin of your nape, holding you in place while he works on the finer details.

the area always proved difficult to trim when you were on your own, struggling to get the angles right between the reflection of two mirrors. but his movements are muscle memory, ritualistic. it can’t be more than half an inch of hair that he shears away, but you feel lighter, brighter, the sunlight warming the crown of your head.

he sniffs when he’s done, flipping the trimmer off and carefully peeling the hairy towel away from your shoulders. “shower?”

“will you come, too?”

“'course,” he scoffs, shaking the towel out over the grass as you make your way back inside, desperate to rid yourself of the thousands of tiny little hair fragments itching at your neck and chest.

you prefer the water to be too hot, but he never complains. just slides in behind you and waits his turn, lining up the products you use in their correct order. he likes lathering the scalp scrub, smiling when you hum about feeling better already. he holds you steady as you step back under the shower head, tugging him with you into the stream. your troubles wash away in the current, like water off a duck’s back, spinning down the drain to never be worried over again.

life is easier.

I love that for ec!141 soap and gaz always try to be respectful with reader, but what do you think would break them?

Sleepy reader falling asleep between them on the couch

realizing you feel safe enough to curl up, head resting on Gaz’s shoulder and your feet tucked under Soap’s thighs (bonus points if you’re wearing one of the random tshirts the four of them share)

Gaz trying so hard not to move, but his blood feels like molten lava when your pretty eyes blink open, looking up at him, voice sleep laden as you try to get comfortable again

“don’t move… you’re comfy..” and you’re already nodding off again, tucked safely between two of your newest guard dogs