red i'm kissing ur face 🤍🤍🤍

“I hate to be wholesome on your good smut blog” is killing me 😭 but anyway, thank you for sharing your thoughts with me! i totally see where you're coming from, and i would also be thrilled to know that he has someone else he can lean on, especially in his line of work.

although i was leaning more towards soap wanting to start something with ghost (and not actually because they have their reasons), your take on it has inspired me to think about the more wholesome idea of johnny holding simon and reader in his hands like dolls and trying to make them kiss.

like johnny takes you to meet his lieutenant, and something in you dies a little when you realise just how bright johnny shines when he's with his moon. it's to be expected; they experience life together in a way you'll never have to face, and the bond they've built is so strong you couldn't untangle one man from the other even if you spent meticulous effort to undo the knots. it makes you wonder why johnny's even with you in the first place and not with the man who's practically looking at him with hearts in his eyes. despite how much he tries to mask it, you recognise the look he wears perfectly; it's the same one you sport around your boyfriend.

simon, on the other hand, is immediately enamoured with you. how did this bastard find someone so lovely? you don't seem to be bothered by his whole getup or lack of social skills in the slightest, choosing to keep the conversation light with random topics you think might interest him (he'll let the fact that you favour liverpool slide simply because he likes the way your eyes sparkle when you talk about your team). you're so sweet and funny, and simon has a painful realisation that while johnny won't ever truly be his, he wouldn't want anyone else but this charming little bird in his place.

meanwhile, johnny's about to melt in his seat because his two favourite people are finally together, actually interacting and looking at each other, and it's like his biggest wet dream ever. now, he just has to figure out a way to get you two more acquainted...

ohhhh biker!simon is so tasty, and i love baker!reader even more.

something about this big man squeezing through the door of your lovely little bakery every morning, dressed head to toe in all black with the addition of skeleton details printed on his clothing—his mask, his gloves, even his helmet. he's your first customer without fail, always nodding politely and grumbling mornin' at you before he goes ahead and orders.

i like to think he gets the same thing every single time. it doesn't matter which bakery, or which city, or which damn country he's in; he's ordering a hefty piece of banoffee pie (he pretends not to notice the vast difference in size between the usual servings and the ones you hand him) and sitting his ass down at a table to eat. i also see him grabbing anything caramel-flavoured if there isn't any banoffee. although there's something about your baking that hits his sweet spot, so fluffy and creamy and perfect when it runs down his tongue.

he always looks so content, hunched protectively over his plate as if someone would even think to yank it from him. eyes soft and downcast as he appreciates the dessert in front of him, and if you were close enough, you'd be able to hear the very quiet hums of enjoyment rumbling from his throat.

you glow with pride whenever he drops by the counter to thank you. your eyes always twinkle and your lips stretch into a pleased smile as you chirp out, see ya, grim! while he squeezes back out the door. you never fail to throw him a little motorcycle wave, and hearing the purr of his bike as he rides off has you cheesing, cheeks warm and slightly sore.

he calls you silly pet names, most of them related to food (muffin, chip, peanut), and in return you call him grim, short for the grim reaper, even though you're already aware his name's simon. you're dressed the part, might as well play it, you teased, and he griped at you to get lost, sounding far less annoyed than he was going for.

thinking about how long it would take for the two of you to stop dancing around each other and actually go out until simon makes the mistake of bringing johnny along with him one morning. growls at his sergeant to "leave it, don't say anythin' else about 'er" when the other casually mentions that he didn't see a ring on your finger. ignores the but ye 'aven't even taken tha lass oot! that's fired his way and gives johnny the bird.

(he will, okay? soon. he just has to stop freezing up every time you smile at him. and stop getting dizzy whenever he inhales the heavenly smells of pastries and sweets and you. and maybe find a clean shirt suitable for a date.)

imagine coaxing him to try other treats and now you're packing like five different things for him every morning </3

hnngnhhh just being tugged over by gaz after he's pulled out and pushed down to your knees right behind your lieutenant's dripping asshole. he's reaching back and spreading himself open for you, peeking over his shoulder with those sweet, teary eyes, silently demanding (pleading) you clean him up.

gaz has a firm hold on your nape, guiding you forward, and you flatten your tongue against ghost's balls to follow the streak of cum that leads back up to his hole. he's so pliant like this—both body and personality—as you lap at his stretched rim. whimpers real airily too when your tongue dips inside, mind still a jumbled mess from gaz's rough fucking, and you just about make the same noise when your head is pushed closer.

"atta girl," gaz sighs, replacing ghost's slipping hand with his own and spreading a fat ass cheek so he can really see how your tongue works. "tha's a good pup, make him feel good."

you're so eager—angling your head better so you can shove your tongue as deep as possible, making all these soft, keening noises, hands squeezing at his meaty thighs. you're practically making out with his hole, sloppily mopping up as much cum as you can while he rocks back, white-knuckling the desk beneath him.

meanwhile, gaz is watching intently, lazily pumping his still-hard cock as he murmurs praises to the both of you. he guides you when you get too self-indulgent (play with his balls, too, eh? simon loves it, look how much his cock's leakin'), and he prods a finger around your tongue, chuckling when ghost arches his back into a lovely little bow.

him leaning over to check on his lieutenant and smiling when he finds the bigger man damn near cross-eyed and drooling right through his mask...