Hi!!!!! How Do You Think Nikolai Would Eventually Confront You In The Secret Baby Scenario?

(18+ MDNI)

As far as roommates go, Simon Riley isn’t a bad one to live with

Rarely in the flat, gone for weeks at a time, you sometimes forgot you even shared the rent with someone when you first moved in

And when he is around, he keeps out of your way, tidies up after himself, will offer to run to the shop when you’re running low on something for tonight’s dinner

All in all, you get along well

Especially after a few months go by, and he starts sinking his cock into you whenever he’s home

Every chance he gets, he’s got your ankles resting over his shoulders, or your legs locked around his waist, or your tits in his mouth, or your ass squeezed between his fingers or your hips against his as he bounces you or-

Once he’s had his first taste, Simon is insatiable, never not fucking you every opportunity he gets

He has you feeling like you’re on top of the world, while simultaneously about to tip over the edge of it at any moment

Your time spent together consists of bursts of pleasure and passion tangled together in a mess of limbs and lips, visions of scars and tattoos clouding your dreams at night

And while these rendezvous consist strictly of an outlet for stress, a means to an end that leaves you both more than satisfied, you can’t help the slowly blossoming feelings growing in your chest that whisper to you that you might mean something more to him, that you might just be something more to Simon

It’s on one such occasion, while Simon is balls deep inside you, about to put an end to his teasing and let you finally cum on his cock, when reality slaps you hard across the face

Your moans and whines, his grunts and gasps, combined with the sounds of skin slapping repeatedly, are nearly loud enough to drown out the ill-fated sound of his cell phone ringing from the pocket of his discarded jeans

“Simon, please! I- I’m so- Si, I’m close, I’m close! I’m gon-” You moan into his ear, ankles locked tight around his waist and fingernails scratching at the exposed skin of his back, pleading with him to deliver you the ecstasy you’ve been promised

Your begging comes to a stop however, when his own movements halt entirely, hips stilling against yours as pauses, looking back into your eyes though his mind is obviously suddenly elsewhere

“What are y-”

“Shh.” He shushes you all too quickly, just in time for the faint ring of his phone to reach both your ears

“Simon, wait. No! Can’t we-”

“That’s gonna be work.” He grunts out, sweaty palms slipping down your thighs towards your calves to try and disentangle himself from you

“So? It can’t wait 60 seconds? We were about to-”

“Doesn’ matter.”

“Are- are you serious right now?” You question, stunned by his reaction. In all the months you and Simon have been falling into bed together, he’s never told you what his work is, and you’ve learned not to ask him anymore

He pays his rent on time and contributes to the grocery runs, how he earns his money hasn’t been any of your business thus far, but it’s certainly never gotten in the way of your escapades before

Simon’s apparently decided he doesn’t need to entertain you with a response, because he’s pulling himself out or your embrace without a word, standing off the bed and pulling his cell out of his haphazardly thrown pants before the ringer ends

“Simon! What kind of job-”

“Alrigh’?” Is all he says into the phone, nodding along momentarily to whoever is on the other line, before he’s affirming something or another and hanging up, tugging his pants back on without so much as a glance back at your naked form sprawled out on the bed in shock

“Simon-”

“See ye when I’m back, birdie.”

And with that, Simon is out of your room, out of the flat, out of your life for who knows how long, a reoccurring event you should have grown used to by now, but never has he left you high and dry like this before

That was the day you learned, as special as you might feel when Simon is grinding against you, caressing your skin and grunting sweet nothings into your ear, you were not Simon’s priority

You would always come second

Nah that bluecollar!simon au except he knows the exact moment your relationship with your fuckass bf starts going downhill cause the lunches aren't quite so catered to your bf's tastes anymore. He doesn't open the bag to begin with, so how would he know that you've started packing them for Simon and he's just doing the hard part and delivering it?

Idk I just think the most loving thing you can do for someone is cook for them. What does that say about me.

Simon who’s into cuckholding lame men but instead of fucking their girlfriends he’s eating their cooking like a starving animal. He’s like lol look at the fuckin idiot being my free post mates boy.

Also I lied. He’s fucking the girlfriend also. But to him there is a vast difference between “I fucked your girl” and “your girl cooked me dinner and I asked for thirds”. Any guy can fuck a girl. But a girl will not spend her precious time making a lovely warm meal for just any man.

Bravo 6-1

New continuation to this

I’m sitting on the idea of Ghoap x Reader AU where Reader is Simon’s best friend that’s been with him since childhood, through thick and thin.

They leave together when they graduate, start renting a flat before Simon leaves for army which initially changes nothing. He still comes whenever he can, calls them pretty often, he’s there for Christmases (if they get leaves for it).

And then something changes. It’s nothing noticeable, he is just a little more distant, he’s slipping their Christmas for the first time instead inviting Reader to come out somewhere in Scottish Highlands (you decline partially because you are upset that he just cancelled out on you all of a sudden and partially you and Simon are two socially inept people and the thought of spending Christmas with bunch of people you don’t know is…well, not alluring).

And then at some point Simon introduces the shiny John (“Johnny”, practically purrs Simon and you feel your blood pressure rising) “Soap” MacTavish who’s beautiful and joyful and whose smile is infectious.

And you are cordial, trying to be friendly, trying to push down the “oh, so that’s who you spent Christmas with in Scotland” because it’s not fair to Simon, because Simon doesn’t owe you anything, you aren’t together after all.

And Soap is incredibly friendly, grinning wide, touchy in a way that overwhelms you at some point, discomfort probably evident because Simon pulls Soap away by the nape of his neck, growling that he needs to let you breathe.

And it would be better if Soap instead didn’t drape his hand over Ghost’s shoulders and god, you never were one to be jealous but for some reason (yeah, why is that, i wonder) you want to hole up somewhere and hide.

While cleaning out my room I found a paper that my therapist gave me some time ago to deal with obsessive and intrusive thoughts. Sorry the paper is a little crinkled and stained, but I figured I’d post it in hopes that it will help someone like it helped me.

Anyone want some angst? Cause I found some random angst laying around. With the bonus of Martin and Gabe interacting for the first time.

It’s 7am when Gabriel gets the call. The one he’s spent the last ten years dreading, knowing full well that sooner or later it would inevitably come.

-

Gabriel walks through the halls of the large hospital in a daze. Trying his best to follow the directions given by the nurse down at the front desk.

He pauses outside of what is supposed to be Noah’s room, staring at the door. His hand shakes when it comes up to twist the handle.

The figure in the bed at the far end of the room wouldn’t be recognizable if not for the fact that Gabriel could pick Noah out of a crowd with his eyes closed.

His face is so swollen and bruised Gabriel doesn’t think he could open his eyes even if he’d been awake to try.

His lip is split in several places, blood hastily wiped away.

His knuckles must be busted too, if the bandages covering his hands are any indication.

Gabriel sinks down into one of the free chairs in the room. There are two beds in here, separated by a thin curtain. The other bed is empty. Maybe just because it happens to not be needed right now, or maybe intentionally left as such, considering Noah’s case is likely a police matter.

Just a few more hits short of being a murder case.

Gabriel reaches out and rests his hand on Noah’s chest. Feeling the slow and steady beat of his heart against his palm. Just to remind himself that Noah is still alive.

In the countless times he’s imagined getting that call in the past, he’s never once imagined Noah still breathing at the end of it. It just hadn’t seemed likely.

But he’s here. Lungs inflating in his chest, rising up to meet the gentle touch of Gabriel's hand.

Noah is going to survive this, just like he’s survived everything else he’s put himself through. There is no other option.

Gabriel just hopes he won’t be too changed for it.

Gabriel sits with him for a few hours. Just watching him rest. Hands never leaving him for long.

He thinks about the last time Noah was at the studio. How happy and carefree he’d seemed. Gabriel had known from the moment he’d turned up, exactly where he’d come from, could always tell when he’d been spending time with his cowboy.

Gabriel blinks. Martin.

Unlocking Noah’s phone is an easy matter. There are no secrets between them, not even pin codes. The phone is thankfully accounted for in the plastic bag holding Noah’s small collection of items.

Gabriel steps out into the hallway to make the call, he’s not sure why. It’s not like Noah is going to hear him. But he needs a moment to himself anyway. Needs to take a breath.

Finding the right name in the contact list isn’t an issue, there aren’t that many names in there, but actually hitting the call button is harder than Gabriel was expecting.

He rips the band-aid off and brings the phone up to his ear. Cracked screen rough against his cheek.

It rings for a long time, long enough to have him second guessing himself. He’s almost sure no one is going to pick up when finally the line connects.

“Noah?” It’s urgent. Scared. “Noah, where are you, what's wrong?”

Gabriel’s chest aches. He can hear himself in Martin’s voice. Knows that if Noah called him out of the blue like this he’s be saying exactly the same words. Knows that he too would be fearing the worst.

“Noah! Talk to me.”

Gabriel shakes himself. Shuts his eyes. “Martin Hart?”

“No.” Martin’s breath leaves him with the word. “No, no, no, no, please-”

“He’s alive.” Gabriel is quick to clarify. “He’s alive.”

He can practically feel the relief in the silence across the line. He opens his mouth to continue, but no words come out. Martin’s fear for Noah’s life has rocked him. To know that someone else cares as much about Noah as Gabriel does- it’s stunned him.

“But he’s hurt?” Martin asks, finally breaking the silence between them.

Gabriel nods before he realizes Martin’s can’t see him. “He’s-” He swallows. “He’s unconscious. Broken a few bones too. They don’t know how long he’ll be out for, or if he’ll be himself when he wakes up, or-” His voice cracks. He hadn’t realized he was crying, but his cheeks are suddenly wet. “Can you-” He’s not really sure what he’s asking for, just knows that this is too much, even for him.

“I’m on my way, Gabriel.” Martin says, he must have assumed who was calling, there aren’t that many people in Noah’s life, after all. “You keep him company, yeah? I’ll be there as soon as I can, just tell me where you are.”

Gabriel rattles off the address. It’s a six hour drive from wherever Martin is, apparently. The thought of sitting in that hospital room alone for six more hours is enough to have Gabriel feeling sick.

He listens to Martin move around on the other end of the line, likely getting some things together before he heads out. The sound is soothing, less lonely, but then Martin tells him he has to hang up, that he only owns a landline, and Gabriel swallows down his dread and lets him go.

A nurse stops by a few hours later to check Noah’s vitals and to make sure he’s comfortable.

Gabriel watches her work with a numb sort of detachment. She’s humming and chatting, seemingly to the both of them, about nothing in particular, and Gabriel doesn’t bother answering her. He just gives her a tight smile when she comes to give him a pat on the shoulder before she leaves.

He can’t help the way he keeps checking his watch. He’s subconsciously counting down the hours until Martin gets here. He feels childish. Like he’s a kid waiting for an adult to come help them through a situation they can’t handle on their own.

He doesn’t even know this guy. Yet he sort of does. Noah is always talking about him, about his farm and his animals and the way Martin cooks for him. Real, actual food when Noah rarely gets to have anything besides junk food.

He remembers how distrustful he’d been towards this Martin guy when Noah had first told him about him. He'd imagined some older creep, manipulative and taking advantage of a young man desperate for his own place in the world.

He’d expected Martin to try to pin Noah down. Or to use him and discard him when he got too much. Wouldn’t have been the first time. But it’s been four years now, since Noah first met him. And every time Noah finds his way back to Gabriel’s studio after having spent time with the guy. He’s happy. Happier than Gabriel ever gets to see him.

Gabriel can always tell when Noah is leaving him to go stay with Martin too, even if he doesn’t let on that that’s where he’s headed. There’s an excitement to him that is unmistakable. Like he can’t wait to let his bike eat up the miles between them.

Of course there are times when Noah comes to him in a bad mood. They have their fights, every now and then. Mostly it’s Noah’s fault, but even so, Gabriel always feels a twinge of anger directed at Martin too, even if it’s almost never warranted. He just can’t help it.

With almost an hour left on the clock, there’s a timid knock on the door.

Gabriel doesn’t bother calling out or standing to open it, and he doesn’t have to, because only seconds later a tall, weathered man steps into the room.

He looks so much like your stereotypical cowboy it almost makes Gabriel want to laugh.

He’s wearing a red plaid shirt with an old work jacket pulled over it. He’s clutching a brown hat to his chest, just as dusty with red dirt as his well worn jeans and boots.

He freezes in the door, eyes going wide at the sight of Noah on the bed. He looks like he’s been physically stuck by the image.

Gabriel wonders then, how often Noah comes to him with bruises on his face. If he reserves that privilege for Gabriel alone, or if it’s just as common of an occurrence for Martin as it is for him.

“Hey.” Gabriel says, his voice comes out hoarse, raspy with disuse.

Martin doesn’t startle exactly, but he snaps out of his shock enough to look over. He blinks. “You Gabriel?” His voice is deep. He almost sounds stern, except Gabriel can tell he isn’t trying to be.

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “You speed all the way here or what?” He has to have been, to have gotten here this early.

Martin just shrugs. He slips out of his jacket and pulls up a chair, sitting next to Gabriel, facing the bed. He stares at Noah for a long time, silent.

“He woken up at all?”

Gabriel sighs. He reaches over and places his hand back on Noah’s bandaged one. “Not yet. They don’t know how long he’ll need. Something about the swelling on his brain going down first.”

Martin nods. “Do you know what happened?”

He knows Martin must have drawn the same conclusions as him. That he must have assumed Noah had a wreck until he saw his injuries. The way they don’t line up with those of an accident.

“Not really. I haven’t heard from him in weeks. Thought he was out your way.”

“He was. Left a few days ago, said he was heading this way but, you know-”

Gabriel does know. Noah has always been bad at keeping him in the loop. He knows he’s even worse about doing so for Martin. “Thank you for coming, by the way.”

Martin smiles at him, and for a second he understands why Noah was drawn to him in the first place. He has a warmth to him, a steadiness that is sorely lacking from Noah’s life. He feels like a rock, sitting beside Gabriel like this, even as he’s clearly going through a lot in his own head, he projects an outward calmness that does a lot to soothe Gabriel’s worries.

“Thank you for calling me. I’m grateful for you letting me know. God knows he’d never call me himself.”

Gabriel huffs. Doesn’t he know it.

“I figured he’d want you close, when he wakes up, even if he would never admit to wanting either of us here.”

The cowboy deflates. “I hope so. I hope I’m not overstepping, I never quite know where I stand in all this.”

Gabriel feels a stab of sadness for the man. He clearly cares so much about Noah, and true to form, Noah is making loving him as difficult a choice as possible.

“He would want you here. I know he would.” It doesn’t feel like enough, so he adds. “He never stops talking about you, you know.”

Martin looks over, eyebrows raised. “That true?”

Gabriel nods. “I think I could name every single one of your chickens by now.”

That makes Martin chuckle. Deep and hearty. “He loves those birds.”

“He sure does.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a while, just the beeping of the machines filling the room. It’s getting later in the day now. The little bit of sunlight hitting the far wall through the curtains is golden against the stark white of the walls.

Gabriel sighs. The sound drawing Martin’s attention. “I need to go see if I can track down his bike before it gets stolen, if it hasn’t been already.” He stands up, wishing he had thought to bring a jacket with him. “Call me if anything changes, yeah?”

He gives Martin the pin code to Noah’s phone and shows him how to find his name in the contact list. It’s obvious the guy has never held a smartphone before, but he figures it out quickly.

“Go.” He says, when Gabriel hesitates in the doorway. “That bike is his whole damn life.”

And isn’t that the truth.

Gabriel spends the next two hours scouring the streets of the downtown area for any sign of the bike.

He knows from the nurses where abouts Noah was found, but it was down a back-alley in an industrial area. Far from the usual kind of place Noah might haunt. And not an easy area to get a motorcycle into. He opts to rule out the more likely places first before trying his luck there.

He checks the streets around every single bar and pub and club he can find, peering into alleys and side streets with no luck.

Next he checks the local motel parking lots. No bike.

Every time he sees a parked motorcycle on the street his heart skips a beat. But it's never Noah's.

He’s about ready to give up and head back to the hospital when he decides to finally go look at the area Noah was found in. He just feels the need to see it for himself. Like maybe it will clear things up somehow. Give him some answers.

Finding the exact alleyway isn’t hard.

There’s police tape all around it. It’s a full on crime scene.

Gabriel doesn’t go beyond the tape. Scared to disturb anything that might be important to finding whoever did this to him. Even if he knows the investigation will inevitably end up closed before anything comes up. It’s not worth the resources. Not for some homeless biker with a track record of petty crime and picking fights.

Standing at the mouth of the alley, leaning over the tape, Gabriel looks down into the darkness between the old buildings.

He doesn’t even need to bring his phone’s flashlight up to see the pool of blood on the ground.

There’s a pallet by the wall that’s splintered, like something impacted it. Fell on it maybe, or was pushed. Between it and the pool of blood lays a rusty old steel pipe.

It paints a picture well enough.

Gabriel turns away before he makes himself sick. He knows he should head back to the hospital, but he can’t bring himself to go just yet. He feels like a failure, both for not having found the bike, but also for not doing more to prevent this from happening in the first place.

He should have been a better friend. Should have talked Noah out of this kind of lifestyle, kept him safe.

Not that it would have done anything except push Noah further away from him.

He walks down towards where he knows the river will be. The old docks are silent around him. The only sound the humming of the lights illuminating the area, and the occasional seagull looking for a place to hunker down for the night.

He’s getting dangerously cold. He’s been walking around for hours, having left his car back at the hospital so he could ride the bike back if he found it. Now it’s looking like he’ll be walking back too. He’s not dressed for this. He should go before-

He almost doesn’t see it.

He’s following the river back into town when he passes underneath a bridge. The rumble of traffic above him loud enough to drown out his thoughts.

It’s pure chance that he glances up and into the darkness underneath the cover of the overhanging structure.

It’s Tansy.

She’s tucked up against a massive support beam, half covered by Noah’s trusty old tent haphazardly pitched against her side on the asphalt.

Noah’s things are all there, by some miracle. His backpack is hidden inside the tent along with his helmet, and upon closer inspection, his saddle bags are untouched.

Gabriel shakes his head at Noah’s luck. It’s always a theme with him, luck. He seems to have endless amounts of it, always working in his favor. Even now, stuck in a hospital bed with injuries bordering on incompatible with life, yet he’s facing decent odds, if the doctors are to be believed.

Pure luck, they’d said, that he wasn’t worse off.

Gabriel swallows down the bile in his throat and starts taking the tent down to pack it away.

Noah’s keys feel good in his hand when he pulls them out of his pocket, and he feels a surge of pride and relief when he turns it in the ignition and kicks the bike to life.

Tansy starts up just as willingly as she always does.

Gabriel lets her idle while he puts Noah’s helmet on. It’s far too tight on him, and he can already tell he’s going to have a banging headache by the time he makes it back to the hospital.

“Did you find her?” Martin asks as soon as Gabriel comes through the door. He’s sitting in Gabriel’s chair now, pushed up close to Noah’s side.

Gabriel holds the helmet up in answer. “Pure luck. But I did, in the end.”

“Good. Here, I’ll-” He goes to stand up, but Gabriel stops him.

“Sit. It’s alright. I’ve been with him all day.” Martin looks unsure, but he nods and sits back down. The way he takes Noah’s injured hand in his own is so achingly tender Gabriel has to look away to keep himself from letting his already worn thin walls crumble.

He’s exhausted, emotionally and physically drained, but he can do this. He can hold it together for a while longer.

toxic ex bf simon who sends you sweet lil vidzz

pt. two

your heart perks, before soaring into the depths of your stomach when the soft pad of your thumb hits the light gray button. and the video starts, playing for you like a record on command.

it’s him. simon. but he’s not his usual dark, brood stature of a man. no he’s laid back, hand wrapped around the pretty base of his cock, pinky and ring finger laid over the soft of his balls.

“i want you,” he speaks, muted slightly from the distance he sits from the phone, eyes trained on the camera. “i miss you, baby, please?”

and his begging comes to a close, hand smoothing up the skin of his girthy length, and his chest shudders, muscles contracting as he pleases himself just for you.

and you’re watching in something of awe and disgust. taking in the video, studying him, his body. there’s new gashes, bone noticeable beneath his thick skin. he’s dropped pounds, face looking something of a tired wreck.

“i can’t move on, honey, i need you.” he huffs, voice strained as if he can barely even begin to speak the words. it’s like he’s reeling through the phone at you, hitting you in the heart and between your sweet legs with his fuzzy words.

“fuckin’ miss you so bad, come back to me, cmon, baby,” he’s gasping, thick fingers working their way up and down, up and down his cock in a quick, steady pace.

and when you look closely, you can see the crystaly tears that drip down his cheeks, glinting and sparkling beneath the dim light. it has you reaching into your panties, has your knees shifting together in a race of goosebumps.

“call me, baby, lemme talk to you, promise im different, ill be better for you, sweet girl.” and when you hear the grit of words, your finger swipes, before tapping the lil phone button on the top to send him a call.

we all been here?

would stone go to a bar IF the 141 went there too?

and if he did, how would he react to the (tattooed) bartender!reader flirting with him?

So Stone has gone to a bar with the 141, exactly once, and it did not end well. Like he got drunk and tried fighting a squirrel and Ghost got injured by said squirrel while trying to pull Stone off the squirrel. Price decided to never invite him out to a bar again, but for this scenario, let's pretend Price did decide to make an exception because they had survived what had considered a suicide mission.

Stone was sitting at the bar, waiting for the drinks while the rest of the 141 were at the booth waiting for him. He didn't like to drink at bars, partly because he did stupid shit while drunk and partly because he was slightly paranoid of someone drugging his drink. As it was, he didn't eat anything he didn't prepare. But he made an exception, since he could watch you make his drink.

He was so busy watching where the your hands went, that he didn't realize it looked like he was staring openly at you. A heavily tattooed bartender who was rather handsome, but that was not point.

"Normally, I'd charge people extra for staring so intently at me," you joked, your voice oddly soothing to Stone's ears. "But I'm used to the stares, you like the tattoos?"

It took everything in Stone to keep his cold brown eyes on your hands, because he absolutely refused to take his eyes off his drink. "I'm not looking because of the tattoos," he said coldly, albeit too eagerly to brush off the assumption that he was eyeing you.

You raised an eyebrow, which he couldn't really see, but you didn't falter in making his drink. "No need to get defensive there, mate. I don't mind if you were looking," you replied, sliding Stone's finished drink to join the other drinks that Stone had put on a tray to carry them all. "I like what I see."

"Right, well..." Stone's cold and stoic demeanor wavered just slightly, almost falling when he had gotten off the bar stool. He cleared his throat and picked up the tray. "I wasn't looking."

He left to get back to the 141, but despite his words about not looking, he insisted on coming to the bar each time the 141 wanted refills even when he had switched to water. You could tell he was getting flustered with each flirting comment you made and normally that would make you relent, but underneath it all, you could tell he was preening at the compliments.

He looked like a tough guy, with his scars and cold demeanor, but you could tell there was more to him. He melted too cutely at your attention to not have there be something more to him.

When the 141 was done drinking for the night, he was the one who closed out their tab. And you gave him a slip of paper with your phone number on it. That made him very flustered and he scurried away without saying anything, but he took the piece of paper with him.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and talk or request something! (SFW requests only, please and thank you)

to the person who wanted a continuation of soapgaz from this, here you go <3

truthfully, you weren't that mad at johnny.

yes, it hurt, but could you fully blame him? he looked like he was getting his brain fucked out of his head, having no choice but to take the cruel thrusts his lieutenant was laying on him. you swear he slurred out a few apologies before simon stuck his fingers in the poor man's open, drooling mouth, and then you couldn't process anything other than your tears and the overwhelming urge to kick simon's head in.

but just because you weren't too pissed at johnny, that didn't mean the other two members of the team were okay with it. after all, this was his punishment just as much as simon's. what good would it be if he got away with every little thing he did?

"take good care of 'im, will ya?" price hums, patting kyle's back. the latter nods obediently and mutters a hoarse yessir, already eager to get his hands on the bastard and ruin him.

—

johnny doesn't know how long they've been at it; he only remembers kyle giving him a very brief, sweet kiss before he was pushed down on the bed and his pants were being tugged off, long forgotten on the floor of kyle's room.

"garrick, fuck—" he wheezes, fighting against the urge to roll his hips up. he received a slap to his cock along with a harsh hair pull when he first tried that and had no choice but to take kyle's snarled warning to heart. fuck, he's sweating so much, globs of pre-cum and lube creating a filthy, sticky mess all over his lap and the bed as kyle works his hands over his weeping cock.

"can't keep it in your pants, eh? jus' had to let this cock o'yours think for you," kyle teases, drinking in the way it twitches and spills in his hands. "and you upset the poor bird—sweet thing was all dewy-eyed. that what you were going for, tavish?"

before johnny can deny his words, the fist that holds his cock in an iron grip begins gliding up and down, and he just about chokes at the feeling of kyle's palm sliding over his sensitive tip.

"c— cannae take it, garrick, please—"

"i asked you a question."

"nae, for fucks sake!" johnny cries, letting out a pitiful little whine when the latter squeezes tight, almost too painful for him to handle. he whimpers out a soft sorry and grits his teeth when kyle clicks his tongue, shaking his head.

"behave. should be thankful 's me and not the cap, or even ghost." kyle huffs, loosening his grip just a little. "better hope he's nice to you at training tomorrow after his lil meeting with the captain."

tears clump johnny's eyelashes together as he's denied yet another orgasm, thighs shaking and chest heaving when kyle removes his hands right before he can peak, cock twitching uncontrollably on his belly. "'m sorry, kyle, jus' wanna cum," he groans, loud and unabashed. his hands itch to grab onto the other, but he's not allowed to touch, so he settles for putting on a pathetic display of rolling his hips, poor cock bouncing against him. the movement feels good, but it's not enough, and he swears he'll get himself off if kyle denies him again.

"you solid?" kyle's sweet voice melts away the heavy feelings swirling in johnny's chest, and he nods, forcing his hips to still. "need words, mactavish."

"i'm fine." johnny musters up what he hopes is an acceptable answer, not keen on being edged any longer.

kyle hums, sliding his hand over johnny's thighs, eyes trailing down appreciatively at the mess they've made. "i could let you cum, but..." he sucks in a breath—at the same time, johnny lets out a soft groan, warm hands working his cock again. "i'm a bit offended, soap. was i not good enough last time we shagged? is that why you went after ghost?"

"yer wrong, gaz, it isnae my fault—"

"shut it," kyle snaps, squeezing a fist around the head, fluids coating his hand as johnny thrashes against the bed. "i thought i was a good lay, apparently not. or are you that much of a slag?" kyle croons condescendingly, chuckling lowly at the sounds tearing through the other's throat and the desperate shakes of his head, denying it.

his poor cock's not helping his case, though. it throbs intensely at the dirty words and drips all over kyle's pretty hands, balls aching for release.

"is that it, johnny?" he purrs lowly, sliding up next to johnny on the bed, hand still wrapped tightly around his cock. he leans down to kiss him, swallowing all the sweet little sounds spilling out johnny's mouth. his hand moves a little faster, granting the smallest amount of relief, but it's just not enough.

when they break apart, johnny grits out his denial. he knew that simon had a sweet thing at home, but he was told that she was okay with it. he's not totally at fault; it's all simon.

gaz just tuts when he attempts to explain.

(johnny does feel guilty, though; he didn't stop his lieutenant from ravaging him right in front of you or shy away from your gaze. in fact, he became even more shameless, shoving his hips back and whining out barely coherent apologies. he hopes you'll let him make it up to you properly some day. preferably between your legs.)

"nah, i think you're jus' greedy. is it cause i'm not taken? that why you said yes to ghost?" kyle huffs, cruelly twisting his fist around the head of johnny's cock. the pretty smile on his face sharpens into something mean at the broken sob he gets in return.

johnny doesn't know anything anymore; he can't even decipher left from right. all he can process is kyle lifting his hand off a second too late and the unsatisfying feeling of a ruined orgasm rolling over him in ferocious waves, not nearly enough to satiate him for even a moment.

kyle shushes his heavy sobs, whispers promises that he'll let him cum next time as he slides down the bed, and picks his sensitive cock back up. this time, kyle actually puts his mouth on him, searing hot and so soft, and johnny's seeing white.

the simon and kyle blurb?!!! hello?!!! I rarely see this duo together and it’s so unfair 😣

Sugar and spice is the best way I can describe being sandwiched between Kyle and Simon.

Just imagine the sexual tension between them and the reader and how it just... comes to a head.

It's you three, shooting the shit, and the conversation somehow veers over into shotgunning. Next thing you know, you're in Simon's lap, Kyle's scooted a little bit closer and they teach—demonstrate, rather—the basics of shotgunning.

Which turns into Kyle's tongue down his Lt.'s throat.

Which then turns into Simon's tongue down your throat.

Which THEN turns into you sandwiched between the two, you and Kyle making out, your tongue down his throat, and Simon leaving hickies on your neck and groping you wherever he can.

Cheers, darling.