Best Friend!simon ‘ghost’ Riley X Single Mom!reader

cw: death

overlooking the coffin of your mate is an experience most military men share.

not johnny though, no. johnny was immortal. in simon’s mind, at least. reluctant to admit it, simon imagined growing old with johnny. maybe going back to johnny’s family farm and living off the land.

it’s so odd to see him in this state, livor mortis. lord knows johnnys family couldn’t afford the luxury costs of a good mortician so his skin maintains the lifeless, gray look he died with.

he’s still. quiet. very unlike him. it’s eerie. an uncomfortable feeling crawls up simon’s back. the sounds of johnnys mother weeping rings in his ears. a kind woman, she is. always was inviting when johnny suggested the two of them going up to the highlands on holiday. simon never accepted though… he wish he had.

members of johnnys expansive family intermingle with the somber military crowd. they all stay under a the tent. lush green grass spreads across the cemetery as light rain pitter patters above their head. some of johnnys favorite weather.

when johnny was younger his mother would have him go out in the rain. splashing in puddles, rolling around in mud, wrestling with the dogs…

everybody wears black, which is a typical choice for simon. ordinarily he’d silently commend everybody for their shared color. but now it feels wrong. like an insult.

anguish wasn’t a feeling johnny felt often and he certainly wouldn’t want his family and friends to be feeling in such a way. but johnny was a light. was. and now that light is gone.

simon takes a leave of absence from his station. the leave stretches days, which morphs into weeks, and eventually months. he becomes a brittle shell of his, already cracking, former self. he does not understand how the rest of his team could continue in this way.

simon’s behavior is unusual. when his family had died he took less than a day off. he refused to process. not even severe injuries could keep him away from work. so why now?

well, his johnny is gone. his mate, his best friend, his first and only love.

In my sights

his teeth snap, jaw grinding and nostrils flaring. tipping over that sweet heavenly bliss, had his veins coiling and nervous system running hot. he was almost angry, fingers curling into fists, and he’s sure there’s blood pooling beneath his fingernails.

“s-stop, no… n-no.” his syllables crush in a soft whimper, voice stiffening into a cutesy high pitched gasp. he can feel the tears build on his lower lash line as your hands slips up the hot length of his cock.

it feels so painfully euphoric, a winding knot that he knows you won’t let snap. he’s begging, gasping, body shivering up with every passing second. and you watch his hips, twitch, a heavy groan slipping past his lips.

and though you pull your hand off him, simon focuses, feeling his balls go taut, unaware to the stumbling, spasming of his thick thighs. and his cock jumps, pretty ropes of pearly sweet cum roping from his cock, just to land and pool right beneath his belly button.

you don’t even let him finish before you’re slapping at his cock, so so disappointed in your luvie. “i told you on my word, si.” you scowl, tightening your fists around his sensitive cock.

and he gasps, throat pulling up a broken sound that hiccups out. his legs jump, back bowing up when you pick up a quick angry rhythm. he can’t breathe, the only sound filling the room is his agonizing cries, his pathetic pleading.

“shut the fuck up,” you snap, pinching the tip of his cock between your fingers just to have him in hysterics. “this is what happens when you don’t wanna listen to me, you deserve it, ‘member that, baby?”

white boy suffering in Asia's heat....

Thinking about being a little too good at getting Johnny off. The way he grits his teeth as he thrusts into your fist, whining and begging: “Not yet—fuck—please not yet.” Brain begging for one thing, body begging for another. Hmmm

"Nobody writes of Holmes and Watson without love." - John le Carré 

Hi there! Which until dawn characters do u think that are soft moaners and which ones u think are loud moaners?

Ooooo, this is a good one! 👀

Soft moaners: Sam, Ashley, Beth, Matt, Hannah

Loud moaners: Emily, Jess, Chris

Depends on the timing or the mood they are in: Mike, Josh

literally no words can describe how much i love historical war films.

dunkirk, all quiet on the western front, 1917, hacksaw ridge, band of brothers, saving private ryan, schindler's list, and oppenheimer are all done very well.

history is one of my special interests :)

It's been seven months since she's stopped holding his hand all the time and started walking four little steps ahead. Simon grapples with his daughter's newfound independence.

She is his measure of time.

Simon makes sure to count every inch his daughter grows. How much bigger and looser it feels every time she holds his hand while they walk down the block to see what the new weekly special is at the ice cream parlor. His little bug’s favorite flavor changes every time they go – it was Lemonberry Crunch last week, now it’s一

“A scoop of the… Maple… Buttercream Delight.” 

“Two.” she corrects him, tugging on his hand. Her eyes sparkle at him, and a soft quiver hits her lips. She got that look from you. Simon doesn’t approve of it, not at all. It weakens him and makes it harder to deny you both anything, but he pushes through today with a pat on her beanie-covered head. He’s been meaning to buy her a new one after she pulled the pom-pom off.

“No, sweetheart. Jus’ one, yeah? Two’ll make your tummy upset.”

The sulking, woeful look shrouds her face in an instant. It’s fatal. Her little hand drops from his jacket to her side, and he’d buy out all the tubs of ice cream for her if he could. 

“Sorry, bug. Jus’ don’t want you gettin’ sick ‘cause o’ me anymore.” he apologizes, nodding and mouthing ‘one’ to the girl on the other side of the counter to confirm. She smiles and fills the stubby paper cup up with one scoop, and his daughter sighs and longingly looks up at it as they weigh it, tiny fingers twiddling at the edge of her puffer. 

“It’ll be three-oh-four, sir.”

He opens his wallet (the one his little girl made for him herself with zebra-print duct tape and neon-colored construction paper – incredible what kids can do) and pulls a tenner out. Before he can hand it to the young lady, his hand knocks on his thigh, smacking with urgency. 

“I wanna give it, Daddy!” she says, buoyant on the tips of her toes, hopping up and down.

“Y’do, do ya?” 

“Yes! Please!” She’s already being given the tenner, a wide smile on her face as she clumsily pushes the note into the woman’s hand. “Here y’go!”

He can’t help but chuckle a bit, thanking them before telling them to keep the change. Asks for a single pence back before they leave just because his little one’s been obsessed with collecting one from everywhere they go – she likes to tape them inside a notebook and label their source. Simon takes the ice cream and drops the coin into her waiting hands. She pockets it with a toothy grin, cheering and skipping over to their usual booth by the window.

It's been seven months since she's stopped holding his hand all the time and started walking four little steps ahead.

Simon grapples with his daughter's newfound independence.

It’s a funny thing to mull over in the middle of an ice cream shop, yet so easy to do when he watches her act so brazen with him, waving him over like he’s a servant who’s fallen behind. Not much of a difference anyway, is there?

They settle down in the chairs, and she digs into the creamy dessert. 

“Oh, this is excellent.” she sighs, nodding. He’s raised an ice cream critic. Terrible influence, he is. “Five hundred stars.”

A smile tugs on his lips again, and he folds a napkin to wipe off the ice cream she unintentionally smears on the corners of her lips, leaning over the table一

She stops him and grabs the napkin. Tiny hand with a determined grip. “I can do it, Daddy.”

The words dig at his heart. He almost frowns, but lets go of the napkin for her.

“Alright, bug.”

It gets harder every time, facing the inevitable interruption of a constant in his life. He loves to see it though. Loves to watch her grow into her own person. She picks out her own clothes一has been for a while now. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t dare to. He thinks the lion on her shirt pairs nicely with the blue camo pants anyway, topped off with the purple puffer she picked out last month, and yellow, squeaky rain boots. 

The rain is picking up, and he wonders if you’re still sleeping in. Should be, he hopes. You need the rest.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah, love.” he hums.  

“Do you want some?” 

“No, sweetheart.” he chuckles. “M’alright, thank you.”

She eats until two more spoonfuls are left, not bothering to hide the unpleasant expression on her face from a full belly. Simon finishes it for her before they leave to walk it off, and again, she’s prancing ahead.

Her feet land her in every puddle she can find, her voice says a seraphic ‘hello’ to everything they pass (even the lonesome squirrel she spots at the park and the jogger with headphones in), and she’s dancing in the rain like a little drunken man with no worries or doubts in the world.

“C’mon, bug, up,” He lifts her up, sitting her on his forearm and pulling her hood over her head. “Gotta ge’ ‘ome before it starts stormin’.”

She lays her padded head on his shoulder, and he pats her back. She’s stopped gluing her hand to her father’s everyday, but she still burrows into his chest like a kitten. It’s the safest place she knows.

“Can we all huggle when we’re ‘ome, Daddy?” 

“Y’wan’ a huggle, love?”

“Yes, with Mum an’ Chunky. When it rains, it’s the… the best time for a huggle.” Chunky, her beloved toy gorilla. Simon recalls catching her bathing the poor thing in the soapy water-filled sink. It took him half a day to figure out how to properly dry the toy without permanently damaging his daughter’s cherished friend.

He presses a kiss on her dampened, plump cheek.

“‘Course, sweetheart. All four o’ us.”

Please enjoy this smutty little scene based on a discord convo I had earlier today about sex after IUDs. Unedited and abrupt - if you know me, no you don't 😌

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x Reader

*As always, 18+, Minors DNI*

When you'd gotten your IUD a few months back, you'd been prepared for the worst. You'd heard so many horror stories before you'd decided to bite the proverbial bullet and get yours, and you thought you'd prepared yourself for every eventuality.

But you'd never heard anything about the increased sensitivity afterwards.

"C'mon hen, keep your hips up."

When you'd met Johnny, all you'd been expecting was a quick fuck. It was supposed to be a one night stand, the perfect way to test everything out, a practice run before your next longterm relationship. That was before he'd gotten you on your on your tummy, legs splayed wide around his hairy thighs as he slid into your aching center.

You'd struggled against it at first; it had never been your preferred position with past partners, especially ones as... blessed as Johnny. Most of the time, it hurt, your cervix too sensitive to last long as they pounded into you.

However, in between your last partner and your current situation, something had changed. Rather than the sharp pain you'd been expecting, there was a soft, dull ache where Johnny rested inside of you.

"You're so warm - feels like heaven inside ye."

You couldn't stop the whimper that bubbled up, and you were grateful he couldn't see your face; you were sure you were blushing. As you began to rock back, your hips pressing into his, you savored the new sensitivity, the ache adding to the pleasure starting to build. Your movements became frantic, both of you pushing towards your own orgasms.

You crested as you heard him curse behind you, his hips flush with yours as he pulsed inside you. You couldn't stop your hand from creeping between your thighs to press gently on the skin over your womb - the dull ache lingered for a moment, gently pulsing with the last aftershocks of your orgasm.

Oh yeah, you could get used to this.