⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ THE CORRUPTION BEGINS WITH THE MOUTH, THE TONGUE,

— THE WANTING.

RECENT WORKS:

THE FIRST POEM IN THE WORLD IS ‘I WANT TO EAT.’ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

theo!!!!!😻 anything for you bbg

i’m open to ideas for a part three as i’m a little stumped on where it should go after this. i could look into an alternative part two which we talked about on my last blog - i had a whole probably 2k words written in my drafts that are now gone 🥹 so id have to start over

there’s also the idea of simon’s pov after part one, where he goes back to his bunk. i’m leaning more towards this idea because i think it’d be hot af

open to suggestions!

no wasn’t me sorry darling!

are you kidding me !!!!!! literally crying in the clerb over this !!!! first of all i just want to say thank you sm for sending me this im so glad you’ve found me again darlin!! never feel bad about spamming my asks with ideas i had sooo many i kept for when inspiration struck. i dont remember all of them now but know i appreciated them so much and if you were wanting to send me some again feel free to do so!! even a dm would work 😊🤍

jerry rigged hahaha i’m so sorry!!! im glad to be able to repost those for everyone i didnt realize how much people enjoyed that lil series. i’m literally honoured and so thankful for all the love it has gotten🥹!!

as for your requests, yes i can definitely repost the hc’s!! i actually found a reblog of them a few days ago so i have them ready. i will definitely repost my longer fics for the guys too - i believe prices was “you’ll get used to it” and i had a few for simon, engineer!reader and then wreckage of ruination. i still have so many little blurbs i want to repost too. 😊

i didn’t get too far into writing for kinktober unfortunately. this year i hope to do way better!!! also my mouth is finally healing - no more pain but still stiffness in my jaw and can’t really eat anything hard or crunchy yet which is super annoying. but thank u sm darling fr!!!! so much love for you!!!🤍🤍🤍

okay damn you can lock me in your attic anytime tbh. then i wouldn’t have to goto work 😂😭 thank you for much for reading!!!! so so so glad you enjoyed that little series 🥹🤍

almost immediately into dating, simon riley would buy you a gun.

probably a 9mm. matte black, no frills, utilitarian. nothing bigger than needed. comfortable enough to hug your palm, heavy enough to remind you of the implications of what you carry.

and really, it wouldn’t come as a surprise to you.

you knew he was a soldier, knew he kept closets full of gear and could disappear without a sound — appear the same way too. you knew how he moved, how his eyes never slowed until they met yours. knew there was something unsaid about his skill level, redacted parts he left out on purpose. but even above that — you knew the truth of him. under the mask, under the muscle, under the scars of his past. the boy who grew up with vigilance as his only defence. you know enough to know you don’t survive what simon has survived and come out normal.

you come out disciplined. dangerous. prepared.

simon doesn’t believe in luck. won’t leave his trust in the cavalry showin up in time when that’s already failed him many times before. simon doesn’t deal in safe.

he deals in preparation. for the worst. for even the most unlikely.

love comes in many forms. and maybe for simon it’s not candle lit dinners or couch cuddling movie nights (though of course you bribe him into those anyways. he’s never quite been able to say no to you) it’s making sure he does everything in his power to make you capable.

and he does it with all the patience he’s got to offer. there’s no expectation no pressure no timeline — god knows simon isn’t expecting you to become a super assassin overnight. he takes you out to some half-forgotten range an hour outta the city, tucked in nice between the pine and fog. sets up the targets and has you aim at them empty, watching the way you hold tension in your tendons. teaches you how to force it out through breath. how to work the weapon like an extension of yourself.

the rundown is quick and simple. caliber, kickback, magazine release. then he steps back and tells you to shoot.

you exhale the breath like he taught you and pull. when you miss, he nods once and says again. you go through three full mags and miss each one. it isn’t long before your palms burn as bad as your cheeks do with the humiliation of it — but it’s all forgotten when you land just a tap off the bullseye and simon walks over with his hands up.

“that’s how it starts, sweet’eart.” he murmurs, smirking against your mouth.

simon riley is a man of many talents, but his greatest achievement yet is loving you. and maybe it’s not always voiced by ‘i love you so much baby.’ — but instead it’s running you through drills around the crooked ikea furniture in your living room until the sun has set and the moon is out. or blindfolding you and telling you to unload and reload the mag. or leaving sticky notes with unlikely scenarios scattered around the house and quizzing you on your answers while youre cockdrunk against the counter.

you’ve learned his language by now. hes protective and realistic and a little bit cynical. but god does he make you feel alive for it.

you know by him teaching you how to use this gun it’s his way of saying i will do everything in my power to keep you alive because im in love with you and i wouldn’t survive a fuckin day if i lost you.

working on simon x therapist reader. 😇

“i’m goin’ home to fuck my wife.”

and those were the last words john uttered before slamming the palm of his hand down against his desk and leaving. spoken the way most things he says are - gruff and final, with no room for argument - stunning the room into silence until the door shut hard behind him.

everyone just looked at each other, dumbstruck.

“should we wait for him to come back?”

“what the hell does that mean—”

“is that code for something?”

“wait, he’s married?”

price didn’t hear a word of it - by that point he was already halfway down the hall, boots pounding concrete with purpose, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, everything else dissolving into white-hot static behind his eyes.

he can take a lot of bullshit. does it daily. but fuckin’ hell - they wouldn’t stop. wouldn’t stop talking, hovering, circling him like crows. clipping questions at him in endless fucking rotations.

what now, captain? what’s next? what do we do about makarov? do we move now or wait for shepherd’s greenlight? have you seen the updated file? should we pull soap and gaz back? do we burn the safe house? double-tap the asset? what’s the protocol—

jesus fuckin’ christ.

it’d been too long. john’s mentally checked out and he knows it. doesn’t care. he didn’t want to be in that room. didn’t want to sit at that table. didn’t want to give another goddamn order with five pairs of bloodshot eyes looking at him like he’s meant to have all the answers and none of the doubt.

he needs a break. not a debrief. not another satellite feed. not another fucking decision.

he needs to go home and fuck his wife.

needs to put his hands on something solid, something that he doesn’t have to second guess. something that’d let him burn off all the static and pressure and noise building between his temples without asking anything much in return. his sanctuary where he can fall apart and come back clearer. reset his head before it spun off his shoulders.

so he peeled out of the parking lot before he’d even properly put the car in drive, and sent you one text:

‘take off anything you value and put away anything breakable. i’ll be home in 15.’

y’all should i continue reposting all my old works or should i just start fresh lol?? idk what the best play is here 😭

i’m happy to tell you that you’re safe from all embarrassment because YES! lol 🤭🤭

sundowning will always be my favourite album it is so incredibly special to me.🥹🥹🤍🤍