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➥︎ masterlist, requests closed (rules)

• feel free to send in ideas though ❤︎

➥︎ 18, bleu, enfp, american based. she/her. this blog is 18+

➥︎ IMPORTANT CW: my writing occasionally handles dubcon themes- if you are sensitive to it, beware of the warnings or avoid my blog entirely.

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↬︎ recently…

venus, frankie avalon

↻︎ ▶︎ ↺︎ ▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎.▁︎▁︎ 2:22

⁎︎‧︎༚︎ day dreamin… western themes, show girls, bikers, poetic erotica, ww1 analysis, ancient royalty, ww propaganda, old men, ect ect

⁎︎‧︎༚︎ runway obsession…. dior spring 1998

↬︎ works

• captain john price- scapegoat/tucked tail you and your boss, smoldered under cigar ash and a horrible day, get trapped in an elevator.
• captain john price - where the aster grows. in her absence, your grandmother leaves you a floral shop, the house above, and a neighbor.
• johnny ‘soap’ mactavish- unraveling careful threads- johnny finds you where he needs you.

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thanks for being here, much love ❤︎

on my shit recently for posting stupid stuffs, anyway johnny and ropes.

if you try and strap a military operative with the patience of a young toddler and biceps thrice the size of your own with skimpy ropes- it will go south. quickly.

especially when you ride him like you are now. thighs trembling as they try and spread across his own. hands bracing above his knees so you’re leaned back, revealing your pulsing cunt. chest rising and falling sporadically, breath coming out in uneven bursts that occasionally sound like his name.

but what frustrates him the most is how you won’t touch yourself. his hands uselessly behind his head, watching your clit swell with no friction, chilled in the evening air and begging for relief.

it will not come, because you aren’t doing it right.

his resolve and the ropes break when you’re cunt pulses without release, and you sob.

his hands are there immediately, guiding you through it, slamming his hips harder up into you, thumb working over you’re sensitive clit as you scratch at his back.

“aw c’mon nae baby, i ken you can, jus’ needed ah littl’ help, mm?”

and then you’re nodding into his shoulder, cumming over his cock and shivering in the come down. he keeps you on his lap, laughing into your neck and he ruts slow and deep into you.

“maybeh ah’ll stick to tyin’ ta knots, yeah?”

team- bad news. WTAG will be going on a hiatus for an undisclosed amount of time.

good news. new series dropping extremely soon.

after johnny’s death, you never got used to the switch from present to past.

because on the days when the flowers he clumsily helped you plant begin to sprout in the backyard, or when you sleep with his dog tag in your palm, it feels like he is more than he ever was.

your friends wince, when you slip up. the look in their eyes spells a pity you hate, and queues your abrupt exit at brunch. walking outside and swallowing the air johnny makes-made you lose when he’d crack a joke.

most people don’t get the grief of loosing someone so quickly you don’t have time to recognize they’re really gone.

but simon does.

he lets you talk about him like he’s still here, and part of you think it helps him, too. sitting with you over tea, making an extra cup ‘just in case’, talking like any second, johnny will walk through the door and ask “what’r ye sayin’ ‘bout meh, ay bonnie?”

he won’t.

but simon gives you a strange hope- that even if he doesn’t, the cup will stay warm. that he continues to live in between the spaces he used to occupy.

the friends and lovers he left behind.