#john goode

[picturebookshelf]

Tiny Tyrannosaurus and her Fierce Teeth (1998)

Story: Paul Flemming -- Art: John Goode

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

👀.

[naomistares]

harrow soup comic! harrow soup comic!

took some creative liberties with the structure of it all otherwise it would've been 20 pages long... love u tazmuir and all your words but i removed some for my sake... enjoy...

[thebookbutterfly]

fanfiction isn’t enough, I need to chew on him

[verkomy]

some more fem crowley

you can get a print here: inprnt!   

[yooo-lets-go]

Now that i think abt it. Does ghost know abt the Ghostbusters groupchat. Does he know he's being mocked everyday.

I don’t think he minds

[stevenrogered]

Perhaps they are enjoying themselves. But how will they know each other if they do not speak?

[hattersarts]

drew some book!husbands. they feel like they've taken more traits from each other than the show.

[bluegiragi]

big d stands for big demeanour (inspired by this mini thread-fic by queeniebgalore on twitter - it is nsfw like immediately so be wary)

early access + nsfw on patreon

[a-b-riddle]

Can’t stop thinking about poly141 who get so wrapped up in their own bullshit they begin to neglect reader. So you leave 🤷🏼‍♀️

It wasn’t a big deal at first. You understood that their jobs were intense to say the least. You own a bookshop, which in itself was exhausting, but you understood how they could get carried away with work.

You had excused the many delayed returned texts or missed FaceTime dates when they were deployed. When they came home, they almost always made it up to you. Showering you with attention and quality time.

But the past two returns home have been… different.

Usually at least one of them made a beeline to your shop or your loft if it was too late in the evening. You always held your breath when it was just one of them.

“They’re okay.” Was the usual answer. “Everyone made it back okay.” It was only then that you could melt into whoever’s hands you were in.

After one of their recent returns home you had voice to Price that you didn’t appreciate several days passing after they came back and no one had bothered to tell you. He had snapped. Arguing that a mission doesn’t finish just because they land back on soil. There was paperwork and debriefing to be done. If and when they wanted to see you they would.

He didn’t apologize until later. Crawling into your bed, using one of the keys you had given them. Blaming the stress. How they had almost lost Johnny for the reason of his outburst. What else could you do but forgive him?

So you had given them space after that one. Not holding it against them to decompress before seeing you.

The next time was the final straw. Solidifying how little they cared about you and how much power you had given them.

Johnny had come in around 7 one evening. He was dressed nicely, for civilian standards. You were reading a book on the couch when he had let himself in. You were wearing on of Simon’s sweatshirts and panties. He took you in for a moment before scooping you up.

He fucked you absolutely stupid. Adamant on having you cum on his tongue, his fingers and his cock. You were only able to bask in the afterglow of him filling you up before he started pulling his pants back on.

“What are you doing?” There were times that you would practically need a crow bar to get Johnny detached from you just long enough to relieve yourself. You had gotten many a UTI courtesy of Mr. John MacTavish.

“Dinner with my family tonight.” He explained by the time he was already buttoning his shirt. “The youngest just graduated and ma’ feels the need to go all out.” Now came the tie. Johnny was actually wearing a tie. To go to dinner. “A fancy dinner in London.” He huffed. “Meanwhile I’m out scufflin’ with bloody fuckin’ terrorists and I get a pat on the back.” He gave you a peck on the cheek before heading out the door. Promising to call you later.

You just sat in your bed. Still naked. Almost in shocked. He had fucked you and just… left. You were close to a panic attack as you called Simon.

Simon wasn’t the one to cuddle and coddle. But there was something so soothing at the sound of his voice or even how his heavy body felt perfect laying on top of you. Yes. Simon wasn’t the time to lift you up with words, but he was your own security blanket. Just having him close helped.

“Can you come over?” It wasn't unusal for Simon to be the one to come later in the evening. Insomnia was a bitch to deal with and you could sleep through the sounds of whatever he played on the tv. Most of the times you were content laying your head on his lap as he ran his hand along your head as if he were petting you. It was a bit cringe, but it knocked you out every time.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. The low timber of his voice already calming you.

“Johnny came over.” You sniffled. “He just fucked me and left.”

“Not surprised.” He scoffed. You could almost see him rolling those deep brown eyes of his. “If you wanted to cum, I’m happy to come over and help.”

For whatever reason, that only seemed to make you more upset. “You’re not listening.” You said, trying to spell it out for him. “He left. Like didn’t even stay and cuddle just left. Fucked me and left.”

“That’s why you’re calling me crying about?” He almost seemed… annoyed.

“Yes!” You said, nearly snapping. All of the tension from the last several months coming to the surface. “I’m not just a warm body to keep a bed cozy until you assholes decide you need to get one off.” Assholes. You called them assholes. “This isn’t what we agreed to.”

“Johnny is Johnny.” Simon tried to defend, not really caring to continue the conversation now knowing that you weren't in any sort of physical harm. “He wanted his dick wet and from the sound of it, that’s what he did. Don’t hold it against him because he had other things to do.”

“It’s not just Johnny leaving.” Your throat felt like it was tightening. A telltale sign you were close to crying. Whether from sadness or anger you weren't entirely sure. “The only time any of you want anything to do with me anymore is to fuck.” You missed date nights and lunches. You missed texting any and all of them about your day, about theirs. About new books. You had been trying for months to tell them over dinner one of your books got picked up. Yours was being traditionally published.

None of them had bothered to even try penciling you in.

“You got yours.” You heard the popping of a can top. Simon was settling in for the night. Once he popped a top at home there was no getting him out. He wasn't coming for you. “I don’t understand what you’re bitchin’ to me about. Yeah, in the beginning we indulged ya a bit? Dressed you up, took you out. But you should have known spreadin’ them legs of yours wouldn’t end with one of us puttin’ a ring on your finger.”

You didn’t know what to say. What could you say? These were the men that pursued you. Initially, individually, but when tensions became to much they offered a solution. All of them. Four times the attention, of the affection.

Four times the love.

But also four time the neglect. Four times the amount of heartbreak and disappointment. Loving all of them meant putting yourself in a position to let each of them hurt you in their own way and they had.

John's constant state of snapping at you as if you were one of his men.

Johnny swinging by as if you were just a fuck buddy. Not even bothering to give a peck before leaving.

Kyle essentially ignoring you for weeks now. Ghosting you for hours or having to cancel on date nights last minute or claiming that he really did forget that the two of you had planned to meet for lunch.

And now there was Simon. Telling you that all you meant to them was what was between your thighs.

Spreadin' them legs of yours wouldn't end with one of us puttin' a ring on your finger.

None of them ever intended on making this into something more. That much was clear now.

You didn't know what to say to Simon. You couldn't think of a witty retort. You couldn't find the proper insult to whirl his way. You couldn't convey just how much his words had hurt.

So you did the only thing you could.

You hung up.

[hamsterdads]

hs beta kids in my little pony <3

[ang3licsins]

SFW: ᯓ★

olderbf!simon: who fixes things around the house that needs fixing but only asks of you to help decorate since he doesn’t know shit about interior decoration. (because if so: he’d have guns hung up in every room of the house.)

olderbf!simon: who gets confused about tiktok trends so that one trend where you set your phone in front of him and say “can you guys watch my boyfriend for me? thanks” he just stares at the phone with those big brown eyes and just stares deep into the camera and starts randomly talking about new things he’s recently bought— (guns, knives, weapons in general, etc.)

olderbf!simon: who is rough and tough around the edges but after a long deployment, he just wants to be in your arms and forget all about his time away from you and home.

olderbf!simon: who loves your body no matter if you’re chubby or skinny. he loves you for how you are and he’ll haul you up and toss you over your shoulder like you’re as light as a bag of feathers because he adores you and sees you as the most precious thing on earth. (because in his eyes, you are!)

olderbf!simon: who kisses you randomly because he feels like he doesn’t show you enough love and needs you to know that he loves you because he doesn’t want you thinking he doesn’t love you whatsoever. (because, again, you’re his precious angel.)

olderbf!simon: who wasn’t too fond of kids until one time on deployment, a little girl came up and tugged on his pants leg and made ‘grabby hands’ which he grimaced at it but swallowed his pride and picked her up and she tugged on his mask numerous of times. (you eventually got a picture from price of the scene with a message along with it stating: “aye, seems riley has tha little one intrigued.”) but after that, simon came home from deployment and was blabbing all about wanting kids because he now has baby fever.

[danascullysjournal]

“Oh, Archivist.”

It’s finished! Nikola Orsinov kidnapping Jon sent me spiraling so I had to paint it. The horrors he endures😵‍💫🥺 poor Jon. I don’t think the creators meant to have the wax figures melting but that’s how it is in my head

Detail below:

[pippynsworld]

It was a long day...

[thunderbottle]

late night at the june egbert birthday party <3

[andstuffsketches]

finally watched Reign of the Supermen