must read before interacting!
cod, top gun: maverick, the bear, marvel works below.
RMH

ellievsbear

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Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
almost home

oozey mess
🪼
One Nice Bug Per Day

#extradirty
wallacepolsom
Misplaced Lens Cap
Xuebing Du
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taylor price
todays bird
h
$LAYYYTER
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Product Placement
seen from Brazil

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@rassvetsky
must read before interacting!
cod, top gun: maverick, the bear, marvel works below.
“i thought i’d weird you out” you weirded me in, twin
The Anatomy of a Weapon | Part 3
part one | part two | part three
simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader
He turned his head slightly, gaze dropping to your face. “But the coffee’s better here.”
You felt a sudden, sharp flutter behind your ribs at that, swallowing, trying to keep your eyes locked with his. “Just the coffee?”
Simon didn’t look away like you expected. “No,” his voice dropped to a rough, honest whisper. “Not just the coffee.”
[4k] ayooo they're flirting your honor! body language as communication, first-aid as a love language, soap mactavish to the rescue, slowburn, mutual pining, healing, implicit trust, delicious in my honest opinion
(“We’re just best friends,” you insist- both of you, every time- when the lads catch Johnny’s arm slung heavy over your shoulders or when your parents laugh about the way you finish each other’s sentences like an old married couple. You say it easy. Practiced.
You’re just childhood best friends who swapped secrets, who fought over the last slice with elbows and sharp fingers, who fell asleep in a tangle of limbs during movie night with your cheek on his chest, his hand in your hair, the credits rolling blue over both of you in the dark.)
Childhood best friend Johnny who now has you bent over the kitchen table with two thick fingers buried to the knuckle inside you from behind, curled against the spot he found years ago on a drunken night when comfort turned into his hand between your thighs on the couch you grew up sharing. Your slick audible around his knuckles. His cock grinding slow against the curve of your ass, hard enough you can feel the twitch of him through his joggers.
Childhood best friend Johnny who pulls his fingers free and replaces them with the blunt, swollen head of his cock, pressing, catching, sinking, stretching you open on the same table where you used to race him through after school snacks, elbows knocking, mouths full, laughing.
Childhood best friend Johnny fucking you hard and graceless, one fist wound tight in your hair and pulling just enough to arch your spine, the other hand reaching around to find your clit with the pad of his thumb, rubbing in the exact tight circles he knows collapse you fastest.
Childhood best friend Johnny who has your body memorized after years of late night hookups that started with movies on the old couch and ended with you shaking apart on his tongue or his fingers or his cock and neither of you acknowledging it in daylight. Who knows the precise angle to cant his hips and drive up into you until something white hot fractures behind your eyes and your legs give and you’re clenching so hard around him you can feel your own pulse.
Childhood best friend Johnny who catches you before you buckle, who wraps your legs around his waist and carries you down the hall with his cock still inside you, each step a shift that makes your breath hitch, who pins you against the wall of your childhood bedroom.
(The same room where you built blanket forts out of bedsheets and played games until sunrise turned the curtains gold. Your wrists caught in one of his hands above your head, pressed right next to the poster that’s been thumbtacked there for years, curling at the edges now.)
Childhood best friend Johnny who’s hips snap forward, deep enough to ache. He knows exactly when to grind against your clit, when to set his teeth into the tendon of your neck, when to speed up until you’re sobbing his name into the humid space between your mouths and coming so hard your vision dissolves to static.
Childhood best friend Johnny who lowers you onto the bed the two of you used to sprawl across after school, uniforms still on, shoes kicked off, talking shit about teachers and lunch hour drama until one of you fell asleep mid-sentence.
Childhood best friend Johnny who settles between your thighs now, pushing in slow, incremental, until his pelvis is flush against yours and there’s no space left between you that isn’t heat and skin. Forehead pressed to your forehead. Blue eyes half lidded, the color of them almost swallowed by black.
Childhood best friend Johnny who rolls his hips in a lazy rhythm, savoring every flutter and clench of your walls around him, kissing you slow and open mouthed, sliding his fingers through yours, lacing them tight against the sheets. Who murmurs against your lips, breath warm and accent thicker than it gets in daylight, “Look at ye. So pretty like this. Takin’ me so well.”
Childhood best friend Johnny who buries his face into the curve of your neck as he spills inside you because he’s not wearing a condom. Never wears one. Not with you. Tempting fate every single time.
Childhood best friend Johnny who doesn’t pull out right away. Who stays buried inside you and rolls onto his side with his arms still locked around you, pulling you with him so you’re tucked against his chest, his heartbeat hammering against your shoulder blade, settling by degrees.
(The same position the two of you defaulted to as kids, limbs tangled, breathing synced, your face pressed to his collarbone like the years between then and now are just a fold in the fabric.
“We’re just best friends,” you tell anyone who asks.
But one of these days the two of your are going to have to stop lying to yourselves).
i love the anatomy of a weapon. i love how you wrote readers struggles in the first part. i love how ghost forced himself out of his ckmfort zone to explain himself but readers self doubt became doubt toward ghost. i love how he just said forget it and became his ghosty self again. love love the drama. any sneak oeeks into part 3?
THAAAANK YOU this means everything to me <3 i really enjoy writing this story. i'm not very experienced with ptsd or military or anything so i'm not a very good military propaganda maker like them cod devs but! i like that these two are just digging themselves into a deeper hole!
part 3 is in the works and i am not happy with how that first draft is looking now haha but i can say that johnny is gonna stomp his feet and say "enough with you two!!"
your account is still listed as "mature" which might prevent you from getting as much traffic from tumblr users :( i've always loved your stories and i wish i could reblog them and all that but i've deleted all my posts and i have zero followers🥀
I mean, I would assume that if it wasn’t something I see happening to everyone
I think the core problem is that a lot of people have recalibrated how they interact with content bc of TikTok and then applied those habits everywhere else. TikTok, arguably the biggest social media platform right now, runs on likes. Like something, the algorithm pushes it out. The more likes, the wider it spreads.
But for tumblr, likes don’t do shit. The only way content moves is through reblogs. If you have five followers and each of them reblogs your post, their followers then see it and if those people reblog it, it keeps spreading. That’s how something reaches hundreds of people from a blog with a tiny following. But if everyone just likes it? Your followers’ followers never see it. They’re not following you, so it never hits their feed. It just dies in the internet void.
Then you get content creators who create banging fucking work and never get the attention they deserve because nobody ever pushes it out for other people to find. People get discouraged and stop writing/drawing/creating that way.
The Anatomy of a Weapon | Part 2
part one | part two | part three
simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader
Worried.
The word rolled around in his mind, unfamiliar, like a foreign language he’d forgotten how to speak. Simon didn’t get worried. Worried was a civilian emotion. It was an indulgence for people who had the luxury of a future, people who weren’t already ghosts walking among the living. He knew fear, he knew rage, and he knew the cold, dead vacuum of indifference. But this? This soft, gnawing irritation at the back of his mind that demanded he ensure your safety?
It confused him. It pissed him off. He stared at the scuffed leather of the bag, jaw tightening. He didn’t know what to do with a feeling that didn’t have a tactical purpose.
[2.8k] simon tries to figure out what he feels, johnny is a menace, and it all comes crashing down because i am a sad bitch. hurt no comfort (for now), angst, emotional incompetence, miscommunication, ghost is bad at feelings and needs a big big hug, ghoap banter tho
domestic simon . i don't really know what I want cuz I'm new here but I'll like anything from you
idk if this is domestic to you but its domestic to me alright. grr. don't say stuff like ill like anything from you or ill kiss you on the mouth. also this was supposed to be a short blurb but uh. yeah.
Calculated Risk
simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader
Simon took that moment to take a sip of the mug of coffee you left on the counter next to you, and made a face of exaggerated disgust just to hear you giggle. “Tea’s completely dead,” he muttered, “Tastes like leaves and a pinch of disappointment.”
“Good thing I didn’t make that for you, then,” you whispered, still a little breathless, your chest vibrating against his ribs as a chuckle got to you.
“Dreadful,” he said, a ghost of a smile playing at his lips, though the thumb tracing your jawline was incredibly gentle. “Next time, try coffee. Or water. Hard to botch water.”
[2k] domestic!! simon comes home to his wife, shared baths, and the promise of something more! size + height difference if you squint, implied sexual content, scars, touching as a love language <3
reblog and/or like for a kiss, feedback is much appreciated! not proofread.
The quiet of the suburbs always felt a little too loud to him at first. Out here, away from the constant, low-frequency hum of base generators and the distant thud of rotors, the silence had a weight of its own. It often made him hyper-aware of his own mass— a massive, scarred shape cutting through the soft, cream-colored hallway of the house. Between the crocheted works and plants in pretty pots, Simon barely felt like he fit in. Unless he saw the smile his existence brought up to your lips, he wouldn’t belong.
requests are so fucking open baby
The Anatomy of a Weapon
part one | part two | part three
simon "ghost" riley x reader
“You’re thinking too much,” he muttered, fabric of his balaclava shifting slightly as his jaw set. “Can hear it from here. The ticking clock in your head. The bottle or the blade you’ll use to quiet the noise when all that tips over.”
[1.5k] angst? guilt, ptsd, all that, mental breakdown, lieutenant riley saves the day by literally just being there, self deprecating themes, hurt and comfort i think, i don't know, i haven't written anything in like 4 years, this was the hardest thing ive done
reblog and/or like for a kiss, feedback much appreciated! not proofread.
so uh i am alive actually
Weighted blanket is not enough I need someone to do this to me
Do you have any Bob fic recommendations?
did you say... bob floyd fic recs? well... honey, I am sorry not sorry but I will give you the link to every bob floyd x reader fic that I have reblogged and loved. you are very welcome my sweet!
first I must be egocentric and rec my own bobby fics; first frost, first snow and best friend! 🥰 (gif made by me)
bolded are smut. I urge you to explore all of these authors masterlists for more! I've probably missed some really good ones, but these were the ones I could trace back in my own (really bad) tagging system!
please let me know if you want any more recs! 🥰
i am not apologizing for the person i will become when the 2nd season of the bear comes out
DID YOU KNOW I RECENTLY HAD A BROTHER DIE, TOO?
the bear / phoebe waller-bridge / lilly dancyger / david byrne / dan pearce / suzy kassem / toni morrison / joseph fink / rabbi joseph telushkin / emily dickinson / richard siken / lone twin network / aanchal malhotra / frank ocean / gabrielle calvocoressi / maurice sendak
the end of an era 🥺