I Love The Paradox Headcanon Of TF141

another gaz study ehe

obsessed with the idea of onlyfans model! reader x Simon

Maybe you’re one of the biggest creators on the platform and you’re very well known after doing it for a few years. Except, you only do solo content, despite your peers constantly asking to collab or getting requests from fans to see you getting fucked.

Then, one day you post a video showing off some new panties and Simon’s tattooed and scarred hand just appears, squeezing the meat of your ass, claiming and possessive. A subtle message he’s sending to your audience as he spreads your cheeks apart, sliding your panties to the side and shows off your pretty pussy dripping with his cum.

simon dating a pornstar? 18+

simon got shoved onto the dating app because of johnny, soap would not shut up about it and simon did it. he didnt really use the app for a good few weeks just allowing it to fester and that one bored friday night he went on it.

he got a match, a cute little doll like you giving him a heart eyes text. his texts were brief but yours were suprisingly detailed and funny. the gentleman that simon (sometimes) was asked you on a date.

you didnt open his message for a day or two, maybe it was nerves because dating apps were fun and for your latest shoot not because you were into the guy. and maybe you were slightly curious of the size of his dick. but nonetheless!

you did reply and tell him your occupation, scare him off early. sending that text to him while he was at work aswell didnt help, as a tent began to grow - thank the lord he was in his office.

your first date was at the local restaurant, something casual nothing too special.

it was extremely awkward until you finally addressed the issue of you being a pornstar and he was suprisingly interested in why you do it. once that had happened conversation flowed extremely well.

dates went on like this for a while before the first time he stayed over at yours. it was steamy and passionate. you were obviously good at it and it had him moaning like never before. the fact you could actually take his dick had him fucking you for the entire night. then once more when you both woke up.

he wouldnt say he was in love but when your cunt took his entire cock and came just from his size? he wouldnt deny that he did have a little moment of ‘i have found my soulmate’ so.

you guys started dating, simon struggled with the idea of you doing porn shoots with other men, he didnt care if it was other women or by yourself but other men? really ticked him off.

he brought it up and you very bluntly said ‘well i have to fuck guys so who else? you?”

the next day ghost was on set getting ready to fuck you on camera. anyone on set could tell this was going to be a good shoot. he said his corny little lines before you did too.

simon riley became an overnight success, the camera showing as he talked you through it, fucking you with such lust and such passion. women everywhere were waiting for their turn.

anyway lets just say simon loves his little pornstar but him being one full time wasnt what he wanted but every once in a while he would.

omg imagine soap finding the video and watching it before realising its his lieutenant, i cant

masterlist

not friends not lovers but a secret third thing

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

Price

Found this on an old flashdrive and you cannot tell me this isn't Captain John Price coded. Like could you just imagine John has been home for a few months, meaning he hasn't been working out as much, his stomach becoming a bit heavier with all the foods you've been cooking.

And you just can't get enough of it. Don't get me wrong, no matter how he looks, John's body is incredible. But there's just something so...domestic about him when he starts looking like this.

On domesticating Simon Riley.

Simon knows people, knows how to read them and how to get what he wants out of them, in a general sense. He also knows women, their bodies and how to handle them. How to pick one out that wants the same thing he wants, how to approach them and then how to cut and run.

What he doesn't know is how to stay. How to let someone else know him, even see him. What makes a home.

So you're going to have to teach him.

He has the most minimal wardrobe you've ever seen -- a few pairs of jeans, a handful of t-shirts, a couple of hoodies and one pair of boots. After a few weeks of watching him lace up those boots every time he takes out the trash, you check them for his shoe size then order him a pair of crocs to wear around the house and when they arrive, you leave them by the door, where he keeps his boots.

"The fuck are these?" he grumbles that evening when he goes to grab the boots while you're cleaning up after dinner. They're too big to be yours, but he knows they're not his.

"I got them for you," you answer, coming to stand beside him. "Just something to wear when you need to step outside for a minute or if your little feet get cold and you wanna wear something around inside."

"I don't have ... fucking hell," he says, pointing down to the shoes. "They've got holes all in them."

"That's so you can accessorize!" you say proudly, pulling out a little bag full of charms that you picked out for him.

It's ridiculous. It looks absolutely absurd. But he wears them anyway, because he's learning that when people care about each other, they make little gestures like this, and if there's a way that he can wear your love for him around like a badge of honor, then no matter how goofy it looks, he'll be proud to do it.

Simon chews his fingernails down to the quick, a nervous habit that he's had for as long as he can remember. After catching him with a couple of bloody fingers after one particularly bad evening, you tenderly pull him into the kitchen, wash his hands and dry them, then sit him down at the kitchen table and leave for a moment, only to come back with nail polish.

"Really, love?" he asks, looking up at you with a smirk. "Gonna give me a manicure?"

You roll your eyes, pulling one of the chairs closer to him and reaching out for his hands, replying, "What, too manly to have your nails done?"

"Yeah, that's what it is," he smirks, all sarcasm, then says, "Why though?"

"It's the taste," you explain, shaking a bottle of black polish before taking the cap off and carefully leaning in to start on his right thumbnail. "The idea is that when you go to bite your nails, the polish will make it taste bitter so you stop."

He can't help but smile a little to himself as he watches you work. He doesn't care one way or the other about his nails, but it's cute, watching you so focused on him. Still, something about it nags at him, because while it feels good, having you care, it doesn't quite feel right, not all the way. Not just yet.

"Not hurting anyone with biting them," he says quietly, his eyes on his hands as you finish up.

You give a little sigh, capping the bottle before meeting his eyes, and you tell him, "You're hurting yourself. And that's not ok, not with me."

He doesn't do birthdays, not his anyway. Not in a dramatic "I hate my birthday" way, it's just not something of note to him. He knows the date, acknowledges it to himself when it comes just as a reminder that he's 40 now, not 39, nothing more. The first birthday he has with you comes after you've been together for several months, and you only hear about it after the fact.

"My sweet boyfriend," you coo at him one night in bed, a little tipsy from the wine you'd had with dinner. "My beautiful, beautiful boyfriend."

He chuckles, still marveling at how much you seem to marvel at him. Your hands are on him, gentle and doting, and he hears you giggle as you ramble on.

"Sweet and kind and handsome and strong," you say, running a hand through his hair. "He always watches out for me. He always takes care of me. My favorite person."

"You're drunk," he points out, smiling softly, cheeks red.

"Am not," you reply. "Even if I am, the truth is the truth."

You go on, praising him for everything you can think of. Pretty blonde hair, pretty smatterings of freckles, pretty dimples that only you ever get to see. It's almost unbearable, hearing how much you adore him, but in a good way. Like it's stretching something in him that's been closed for far too long.

You're breaking him in, slowly and carefully.

"Have you ever," you ask him at one point, "ever in your entire 39 years, thought that you'd get a girlfriend as thoughtful and loving as me?"

It's a playful question, but of course he's never thought that. His chest aches at the thought of just how much you've given him, and how much you let him give you in return. So instead, he dodges it.

"Not 39 anymore, sweetheart," he says softly.

Your brow furrows immediately, not understanding, and he laughs quietly, his hand on your stomach under the blankets sliding to your side to pull you closer.

"A few weeks ago," he explains.

"Your birthday was a few weeks ago?"

"It was."

"And you just ... didn't think to say anything?"

You're serious now, almost concerned, and he can't stand it.

"It's not a big deal, love," he says, leaning in to press kisses against your forehead and temple. "Just another day."

"It is a big deal," you argue, pulling back to look at him. "I would have ... I don't know, I would have gotten you something. Treated you special. Thrown a party, something."

"One, I don't like parties. Two, you treat me special everyday. Three, you've already given me more than you know, I don't need anything else."

All those things are true, but it still takes much longer than he'd like to get the frown off your face.

The next day, you ask him to run some errands for you. You need the oil changed in your car, some things from the big grocery store on the other side of town, but you need to stay home and take care of some things that need done around the house. He agrees easily. He likes taking care of you.

When he comes back later that afternoon, he goes for the kitchen, ready to put up the groceries he'd picked up, and there you are, leaning against the counter and smiling at him like you were waiting for him.

The homemade cake on the counter beside you, with candles sticking out and "Happy Birthday Simon" written in icing on top, tells him that you were.

Every time you do something like this, perform some little act of kindness that comes so naturally to you, it feels like something gets unlocked inside him. Like there have always been chains wrapped around his mind and his heart, keeping him tight and cold and alone, padlocks piling on top year after year, keeping all the hurt secure inside. But somehow you have the key, and you take your time, undoing them all.

Undoing him, completely and thoroughly, until he's open for the first time. And it's raw and new, and it hurts, but something in him knows that the pain will give way to something beautiful.

He watches as you step up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning your head against his chest.

"Happy birthday, Simon," you say softly.

He can't say anything, not now, so he pulls you closer to him, strong arms cradling you against him, and you're close enough that he can feel when the corner of your mouth turns up into a smile

Another lock coming off. Another piece of proof that he can be something different, something better, with you.

Benzo doesn't get paid anything at all to deal with this 😔

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)

I’m sorry this train just won’t stop

More Johnny and Ghost with Ghost’s selectively mute (edit; I originally labeled reader as non-verbal, but I was made aware mutism more accurately describes this!) gf

Soap loves it when Simon fingers you in front of him, movie totally forgotten, and lets him cum on your stomach when he jerks off. And seeing Simon wipe it from your pretty belly and put his fingers between your lips? Goddamn.

But you know what makes him feel over the fucking moon? When you hug him at the door when he’s heading out. When you say goodnight so, so quietly in his ear.

We all know that man is a dog. And now you’ve got him by the fucking leash. He’ll do anything to hear more of that voice.

He’s totally addicted. Now every time he meets up with the guys and you’re along, or he comes to your place for movie nights, he’s leaning down for you to whisper hi, Soap, or goodnight, Johnny. Two little words and he’s melting. And he starts unlocking more little bits— learning to prompt in ways that you’ll respond.

Instead of asking how you’ve been, what you’ve been up to, running his mouth the way his thumping heart is telling him to, he just asks “you okay?” So he can hear your sweet, quiet tone when you say I’m ok.

Makes him fucking hard. He’s never been so hard on so little before. Just two fucking words and he feels like he’s gonna pass out from his blood rushing down.