To The Person Who Wanted A Continuation Of Soapgaz From This, Here You Go

The thing with living with a man like Simon, who's been through so much, is that you pick up habits to help the both of you. There is no tiptoeing through the house, no jumping around corners. Not like you could anyway. He's got a habit of keeping you in sight most of the time.

When he's deployed, you leave a note on the fridge saying where you've gone, in case he comes home without telling you. Sometimes you leave more information, like what time you should be home, which of your friends you left with. Sometimes its just the location and a reminder to take care of himself.

You started doing this after the first (and only) time it happened. You had been out with friends, when he'd returned home from deployment. Home to an empty house. Your car sat in the driveway (you'd carpooled with your friends), and Simon assumed the worst.

He'd torn through the house, desperately trying to find some sort of evidence that you were still there. That you hadn't been kidnapped, or left him. His search ended empty handed, and he'd had a panic attack in the bathroom, reliving the events of losing his family.

You came home thirty minutes later, almost giddy when you'd seen his truck in the driveway. That feeling quickly evaporated, when you stepped inside the house. It looked like a tornado had swept through, living room torn apart, all the kitchen cabinets thrown open.

"Simon?" you call, setting your bags down by the front door.

You've never been scared of Simon, never had a reason to be. But when he came out of the bathroom, staring you down, eye black smeared across his face, looking more like Ghost than Simon, you suddenly understood why people gave your boyfriend wide berth.

"Simon?"

He doesn't respond, backing you up against the door. When he reaches out to gently caress your face, you notice his hands are shaking.

"Thought something happened to ya," he whispers, voice hoarse. And then he's dragging you into a hug, crushing you against his chest, arms like a vice around you. It takes you a second to realize he's shaking all over, that there's tears in his eyes.

"No, baby. I was just out with friends," you reply softly, gently running your fingers through hair, nails scratching against his scalp. Guilt eats at you, feeling horrible for causing him this kind of distress. You hadn't expected him today, didn't think to leave a note or something.

"I'll leave a note next time," you promise. And that's stuck since then.

do u think the cod men would wanna be pegged that’s crazy who said that

They all be in the showers putting fingers in each others BUTTHOLES man sometimes as a prank sometimes as… uhh…. Uhhh

Gaz will bring it up if he’s playing with your ass and you flinch. “Let you play with mine if you want, love. Hell, I’d let you fuck it.”

Johnny has been joking about it since before you were even having sex. He might be a little blush and squeamish when he has to put his money where his mouth is, but he’s so into it.

Ghost initially says no because he’s terrified of being put in such a vulnerable and emasculating position— he’s insanely guarded. But if you bring it up… he won’t be able to stop thinking about it.

Price is bringing it up, in sincerity, on date 5. He already has all the supplies and his ass is ready.

König like. Is not comprehending the appeal of what you’re asking— on either side. Not sure what you get out of it, what he would get out of it. Just play with his hole a little when you’re giving his head.

Nikolai— see Price’s response, but change it to date 2.5 (Casual breakfast after spending a night together)

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.

me and the grown man who whimpers when i call him a good boy

i will not lie, friends in my phone, i have been imagining affection from time to time

(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

price with reader who never got much attention as a kid/growing up??

very self indulgent but hear me out. price is a lover man. he takes his time for his partners, gives them what they need, even if he's busy. you on the other hand are simply used to being put aside, people only listening to you half heartedly, not looking at you and getting distracted when you talk, other things were always more important than you and you felt that. you got used to it, it's normal to you.

but when you're with price he's the total opposite. he looks at you intently when you talk (if not hes leaning his head towards you so he hears you better), putting things down when you ask him something - hes attentive. he listens. and its absolutely strange to you, it makes you feel flustered, kinda watched. at some point you ask him why hes looking at you like that, the tv running in the backround. he furrows his eyebrows at you, with a confused chuckle. "what do you mean, love?"

"you're starin' at me." you accuse him, your cheeks getting hot.

"you're talkin' to me. where else would I be looking?" he jokes with a soft chuckle, wondering what the hell you're on about.

"your show's on." you say, gesturing to the tv. he looks at you like youve got three heads.

"I'm listening to you, love."

falls to my knees crying THAT FUCKING COUCH SNIPPET JM GOING TO EXPLODE

guys. I miss them. I miss harmless fun

I eat up harmless fun crumbs like nobody’s business

— puppy teeth 🦷 anon

I miss them too

Gaz who frequents your flower shop

I think he’s a big believer in getting ephemeral gifts. Things that are so so good that have a short window of time to enjoy. Fresh fruit, freshly baked breads, flower bouquets.

So he’s at your place for almost every occasion. Promotions at work, birthdays, holidays— even if it’s just a single rose, fresh flowers always brighten things up, don’t they? He thinks it’s a tradition that needs to make more of a comeback.

Anyways, one Valentine’s Day, one of your busiest days (full of rush orders from rude people whose romantic relationships apparently hang in the balance, and probably for good reason), you see Kyle coming in around closing. For anyone else, you’d say you’re afraid you’re closing up for the day, but for him? You can stay open a little while longer and do a quick arrangement.

Only he’s already got flowers in his hands. Beautiful ones. You recognize the work and the signature filler— it’s from an extremely nice shop. Not a competitor— because it must be at least a 3 hour drive from yours.

The bouquet is dwarfing the little teddy bear that’s got its arms wrapped around it, backdropped by the satin ribbon on what looks like a beautiful chocolate assortment. You smile, a little puzzled.

“I’d ask for your order, but it looks like you’re already kitted out for the holiday, hm?”

He almost looks a little nervous.

“Well, I— these are for you, love. I figure you spend the whole year making romance come alive for everyone else, I wondered if someone thought to get you a little something…. Then again, maybe you have a boyfriend and I look like a right prick right now,” he says with a little smirk, realizing he kind of just assumed you’d like the gesture. “Or maybe you’re a bit tired of flowers, hm?”

You take them gratefully from his arms into yours, the sound of the cellophane and tissue gently crinkling. “I… I don’t remember the last time someone got me flowers.” You look closer at the arrangement. Smell them. Bleeding hearts— an appropriate choice, but not very popular in the arrangement world. “Would you… would you want to come back to mine? Help me pick a vase to put these in. In my line of work, you tend to accumulate them, and it becomes so hard to choose. I can make coffee,” you offer hopefully. He sighs in what can only be described as elation and relief.

“I was hoping you’d say something like that.”

More angst

Ghost who lives after Johnny dies, Ghost who wishes the bomb went off so he didn’t have to face a world without his Johnny. The one he didn’t get to tell he loved, foolishly believing they’d both make it back when it seems neither did truly.

Or angstier:

The same Johnny he wanted to marry, the ring burning in his bedside drawer in his room in the barracks. He had made a plan after this mission he was gonna propose to Johnny, he even asked for Price’s blessing, he was even going to ask him to officiate their wedding? What he wasn’t expecting when cleaning out Soap’s room? An engagement ring with their initials cause of course Soap’s sappy like that, a note that had written down Johnny’s plans, how he was gonna propose, how he was gonna get Price’s blessing besides definitely already having it and oh no..just like him Johnny was planning to ask Price to officiate their wedding, so now, weeks later Ghost wears a chain with two rings on it, Johnny’s plans in a picture frame so Simon Ghost never has to forget how he wrote, his handwriting, cause he despite knowing he wouldn’t ever forget, also didn’t think that mission was gonna take Johnny away and yet it did, and he refused to let the world take one more thing of Johnny away, or his memory away.

(So post is on main)