#and Buck was the one who had a moment with him???

[alchemistc]

Found this in my drafts and decided to finish it up, written before the Abby reveal so we're just pretending that never happened, have some outsider pov of the alt timeline where Tommy and Buck met before Buck was at the 118.

Tommy is being weird. That's the only way Hen can describe it. He's been quiet on calls, none of the usual banter and posturing she's used to; he's been quiet in the station, prone to staring at the space between his lap and the dinner table even as Chim spouts off some ironic quote that would have had him cheesing it up a few weeks previous; he's been quiet as he packs his shit and heads out for his truck. Each afternoon since he'd quietly announced his transfer to the 217, he's been quiet, and it's weird.

Hen's not entirely surprised. Tommy's nothing if not protective of his own feelings - years and years of Gerrard all hanging over their heads even though he'd admitted a few drinks deep one night that he was pretty positive his professionally scathing complaint about Gerrard was very likely what tipped the scales ("Could have been Sal's, though," he'd said with a shrug as his eyes drifted to the head on his beer.). From what she's gleaned off Chim, there's a good chance he'd been an ass in part to protect himself from feeling too bad about losing someone, too (again) - not that that's any type of excuse for the shit he'd had a hand in putting her through. An excuse for the things he's said, in the heat of the moment, in the quiet caverns of life under a shitty captain.

(Stumbled apologies, serious expressions on a face softened only by the shots he'd been buying all night, words said and unsaid between them and the gaping maw between a Chim happy to accept and move on while Hen downed her tequila and waited for the other shoe to drop.)

It's been years since then. Years and years winding between them all, a dozen captains and more than a few transfers of good firefighters away from the 118, and something good and warm and special brewing in their house with the arrival of the captain who'd made family dinners a daily occurrence.

She'd sort of expected Tommy might finally open up, when those family dinners kept going and Nash kept staying and things started to settle into something closer to friendly instead of the soldiers of war camaraderie they'd grown so used to. And maybe he has, to someone who isn't Hen - who'd taken his little efforts to change at face value and refused to put in more work than that for a colleague who'd made mostly bare minimum efforts post-Gerrard, always accepting the new status quo, refusing to make waves. She respects Tommy. Trusts him on the job, and sometimes off of it when they've had a shitty shift and need to decompress before they go home to the people in their lives who can never really understand losing someone to the heat of a fire, to blood loss and blunt force trauma. Doesn't care for him the way Chim seems to, doesn't really desire a closer relationship than the one they've maintained through the turnover of captains and the 48's they pull on occasion.

But Tommy's being weird, and Hen's pretty sure she's the only one who sees it.

She waits until she's sure Chim has a date to hit up Tommy for an after shift drink, and his eyes crinkle around the corners in suspicion because he knows just as well as she that she's putting them in an awkward position without the buffer zone of an extra coworker to fill in the blank spots of the things they don't say to each other. He'll be gone in a week. There's not a single fucking reason for her to try to get to know him better now.

"Sure thing, Wilson," he says, and when he offers to drive them both Hen makes up some excuse about needing her car in case of some Denny related emergency.

---

She expects it to take a while. Ply him with a few drinks, figure out what it is about Howie that always puts Tommy at ease so quickly when they're out like this and try to replicate it - he keeps things close to the vest but Hen has ways of weaseling things out of people once she's got them where she wants them.

Tommy sighs and picks at the label on his bottle. Thins his lips, and stares at her sideways. "I'm seeing someone," he says, in an undertone, and Hen hasn't even taken her first sip from the bottle he'd ordered for her, too, while she scrounged up one of the smaller booths. His eyes dart, like he's checking to make sure no one else is listening, that no one here recognizes him, and Hen - Hen knows that look. She just can't square that look with Mr. Toxic Heterosexuality himself.

Hen takes a sip. Forces herself not to vibrate out of her own skin because - because - because she's gotta wait this shit out. Could be he's found himself attracted to some weird goth chick, or a woman with meat on her bones, in which case he's in for a big ole smack to the head or one of the looks she reserves for when the boys get a little too caught up in their locker room talk.

He darts his gaze up. Meets hers, steady on, for the first time in...weeks, actually, now that she's thinking about it, and the guilt there in his eyes sure is something to behold.

"He's younger," Tommy says, and Hen rolls her tongue over her teeth so she doesn't do something stupid like hone in on that pronoun with either glee or full-on righteous anger.

Hen narrows her eyes instead, and is surprised that he keeps her gaze. She's expecting - unnecessary contrition, or maybe a ducked head or excuses. He chews on the inside of his lip and chuffs out a self deprecating laugh.

"I don't have a fucking clue what I'm doing and he still lives in a frat house."

Hen's mind goes somewhere inappropriate, and she has to stop herself from making a truly horrible hand gesture because he can't possibly mean -

He rolls his eyes. "I know where to stick it, Wilson, that's not the issue."

She has about half a million questions queueing - things she's not sure they're close enough to ask, things she doesn't actually want the answer to but stick there in the back of her mind anyway, things she'd never ask someone who'd been kind to her from the outset. "How'd you do it?" he asks, and Hen remembers the way he'd stood, arms crossed and face blank and something sad and vulnerable in his face while she lectured from her red and chrome pulpit. Jesus. He's known. He's known a while.

"I've never exactly been passing," she tells him, and winces at the aggression in her voice, in that statement, in the very existence of the idea. He shoots her a bitchy look that's far more familiar, in line with their normal dynamic. It has her rolling her shoulders back, has her sitting up a little more in her seat. "Is that - are you asking me how to come out?"

Tommy shrugs. Tips his head. "You're the one who wanted to get drinks."

"And if I hadn't asked?"

She knows the answer. The dumbass would have transferred out of the 118 with no one the wiser. Probably fallen off all the group chats, squared with himself for however long it took, decided one way or another who to tell from there. But he's here now, talking to Hen. Telling Hen, the person he's probably the least close to.

Hen sighs. Takes a longer drag off her beer this time while Tommy folds up a piece of the label he's ripped off. She's not gonna be his fucking gay guru. They're not anywhere approaching that close.

He could have lied, though, is the thing. Seems like he's maybe been lying for a while, if the uncharacteristic fidgeting is anything to go by. She knows him under stress, knows him when he's walking through literal fire. Figurative fire is an entirely different matter. She doesn't know that Tommy.

The words that fall out of her mouth aren't the ones she's aiming for. "You and Sal." she says, and then bites down the rest of that sentence like it'll burn them both. His eyes dart up. He shifts in his seat.

"The only reason I'm saying a word is because the answer is no," he says, and - yeah that's fair. Everyone has the right to come out of the closet in their own fucking time.

"So this kid," Hen says, moving on, and - oh. There's that look. It's a little dreamy-eyed, the way he's been getting sometimes when he's looking down at his phone and trying his hardest to keep a straight face. "What's the deal there?"

"He's new," Tommy says, and Hen can feel her brow tic up of it's own accord, because he says it with the authority of someone who isn't new. Hen has to wonder exactly how many times the perpetually single Tommy joke had been made while Tommy was less than single. God, that had to have stung, hadn't it? "He's - apparently he didn't realize he was flirting until I kissed him about it."

That's remarkably brave for a man who isn't out to a single person he and Hen are mutually acquainted with. At least as far as she knows - Chim can't keep a secret to save his damn life so at least she knows he doesn't know.

"You know you didn't have to tell me any of this."

His expression is wry. He bites his lip, curls his tongue over his teeth, shakes his head like he's clearing cobwebs. "The transfer isn't the only thing I had on the docket for major life changes."

Karen's gonna be pissed if Hen doesn't get the dirt, she tells herself as she leans forward, so she throws a teasing edge to her voice as she quirks a brow. "This life change have anything to do with your baby gay or is that just a natural progression of the coming out process?"

Tommy's posture eases, just a little. He gives her a look that she's more familiar with seeing when Chim's in the booth next to him, or they're elbow deep in shit-talk at the station.

"Happy accident, actually," he says, and Hen leans in to listen to him dish when his eyes go all soft and gooey.

___

She's known Evan Buckley a total of six hours the first time he mentions his boyfriend. There's a nervous edge to it, like he's still testing the word out, like the syllables are unfamiliar, and he glances down at the phone in his lap right after he says it, like he's double checking something. Hen wouldn't have pegged him for it, for all that she tends not to make assumptions. It's just. He's so.

Hen shoves back against the stereotypical bullshit and throws him a bone, because he looks like he's fucking desperate to share information on the fact that someone cares enough about him to let him call them his boyfriend. She lobs a layup, something relatable about 'my wife, Karen'.

"Yeah, Tommy said you were married."

Hen pauses. Wonders if she can turn her head like an owl so that she doesn't have to shift her weight to look behind her at where Buck is happily washing dishes, elbow-deep in sudsy water. There's no one else up here with them - most of the shift is working off dinner downstairs.

"We never have meals like this at home, I'm lucky if the guys I live with don't steal my last packet of ramen before I can get to it," he'd said, and she remembers Tommy grinning at the memory of this Evan he'd been seeing being inordinately impressed by the fact that Tommy could grill a steak. ("Jesus, Kinard, are you sure you're not robbing the fucking cradle?")

Hen shifts. Eyes him a little more carefully as he turns his head to meet her gaze, and - holy shit, she's actually feeling a little protective of Tommy Kinard right now. "He know you're out here sharing his business?" It's not the tone she's going for - admonishing instead of exploratory, but Buck just grins at her over his shoulder, like he's pleased Tommy has someone watching out for him. Shit. She'd been a little concerned that Tommy was in over his head, stuck up on the idea of being out out and clinging to the first boy that batted his lashes, but it feels like maybe there's more to it than that. She can't square that with what has to be at least a decade of years between them, but -

Love is love, and all that.

"We, uh. We've been talking about it."

Hen raises an eyebrow, because that's not actually a green light to air Tommy's business.

"He - well last night we talked about it again. So. I mean it's not like Facebook official or anything. But he said it was cool to talk to you. A-all of you. He's - everyone at Harbor knows me."

It hurts a bit to know that Tommy's been there less than six months and felt more comfortable being himself with a bunch of strangers, but...

It's good. That he has that. That he's not walking the world just shoving bits and pieces of himself away.

Hen watches him rinse his arms and square his shoulders and shift to face her. "How'd you two meet, anyway?" she asks, because Tommy had been so stuck on the trying to figure out how to have an honest relationship piece that she'd never gotten around to asking.

Buck's expression could be easily mistaken for a solar flare, for the way it lights up the whole loft.

[cryptwrites]

It started as a joke.

A few of us, sitting around a cheap card table in my crumbling apartment, brainstorming ways to pay rent without actually working. The scam was simple: create a fake religion, prey on the gullible, and rake in some easy cash.

We called it The Order of Cythra, a name pulled out of thin air by my roommate, Toby, who thought it sounded “cryptic and legit.” We scribbled down some nonsense about Cythra being the god of renewal and hidden wisdom, created a website, and bought some dollar-store candles for the “rituals.”

At first, it was harmless fun. A few Reddit posts here, some vague TikToks there, and suddenly we had people donating. Not much—just twenty bucks here and there—but enough to cover bills and groceries.

Then things got... strange.

It started with the emails. Testimonials flooded our inbox from people claiming Cythra had spoken to them in dreams. A woman wrote about how her chronic migraines disappeared after chanting one of our made-up prayers. Another claimed their barren garden had suddenly burst into bloom.

We laughed it off at first. Toby even joked that we should hire a PR agent.

But then the dreams started.

It was always the same. I stood in a vast, desolate wasteland beneath a broiling, blood-red sky. A towering figure loomed in the distance, its body shifting between forms—human, deer, shadow. Its voice echoed in my head, not in words, but in feelings: hunger, anger, and something worse.

One night, I woke up to find the word Cythra carved into my arm, not by my own hand but by something else. I confronted Toby and the others, but their faces were pale. They were worried, like I had done something to them.

We tried to shut it down. Deleted the website, pulled down the TikToks, and stopped all donations. But the followers didn’t go away. If anything, they grew more fervent. They showed up at my apartment, chanting in unison, their eyes glassy and strange. They called me High Priest.

Then the first miracle happened.

One of the followers, a man in his sixties, collapsed on my doorstep during one of their late-night vigils. His heart had stopped. I panicked and reached out to him instinctively, yelling for someone to call 911. The moment my hand touched his chest, I felt a searing heat shoot through my arm. His body jolted, and his eyes snapped open.

The followers fell to their knees.

I slammed the door, trembling, my palm still burning. When I looked, there was a black symbol etched into my skin—a sigil I’d never seen before but somehow understood.

Cythra was real.

The days that followed were a blur. The followers proclaimed me as their leader, and no matter how much I tried to resist, they wouldn’t leave me alone. More people came to me for healing, and each time, the sigil on my palm burned brighter. I didn’t know what I was doing, but it always worked. Broken bones knit together. Tumors withered away. One woman even claimed her blind son could see again.

But with every miracle, I felt a piece of myself slipping away.

The dreams became more vivid. Cythra spoke now, its voice a low rumble that made my teeth ache. It demanded more worshippers, more faith, more sacrifices.

One night, I woke to find Toby standing over my bed, a knife in his hand and a vacant look in his eyes. He muttered something about “offering blood to Cythra.” I fought him off, but he slit his own throat before I could stop him. The followers found his body the next morning and cheered.

They said his death would “bring Cythra fully into our world.”

I tried to run. Packed a bag and fled to the nearest bus station. But as soon as I stepped outside, I saw them— hundreds of followers, all chanting in unison, their faces lit by the flickering of candles. The air was thick with the smell of sulfur.

The ground beneath their feet began to crack.

The last thing I remember before everything went black was the sky splitting open, and a monstrous, shifting form descending from the heavens.

Now I sit on a blackened throne in a temple I never built, my body barely my own. The sigil on my palm has spread, covering my arms, chest, and face. I can no longer close my eyes without seeing its form, nor speak without its words spilling from my mouth like black, molded bile.

I am the High Priest of Cythra, a forgotten god reborn through my foolishness.

And I know, deep down, that when it is finished with this world, it will consume me too.

You started a scam religion for a quick buck. You begin to panic when your fake god was actually a real forgotten one awakened from new worshippers, declared you it's high priest, and granted you the power of healing.

[emacrow]

The villains had been 'mildly' concerned about their fellow villain, scarecrow by emacrow/creator

He haven't been to the annual monthly meeting in 6 months after his quiet muttering that how he beat The Mistress of Fear plotting by destroying her psychology.

Only for him to stumbled a bit in the door with a heavy limp, a marriage ring that was a gem bejeweled carved in the shape of pumpkin head on his ring finger, his scarecrow pants inside out, his jacket was missing, revealing several black and orange lipsticks marks and hickies on his shoulder, his sack mask has a new decoration of a childish scribble doodles of a ghost and a stitches of a carved pumpkin with glowing emerald eyes that was the Mistress of Fear symbols on the backside with his curly hair longer then it usually was, sneaky a bit out under the sack.

He look like someone who got their soul devoured in one go during a one night stand,

He ignored the obvious stares and snickering of each and every one of the guys watching him sit in his personal seat.

"So did you found what Mistress of Fear plotted against you, Scarecrow?" Harley was the speak first, a chuckle on how Scarecrow glared sent her way, fixing his mask.

"Oh, I think he found it alright." Penguin snickered.

"Fuck, now I owe Cat lady 1000 bucks."

"S-shut up! Scarecrow growled back if he wasn't struggling with his legs so much being weak in the knees.

"I still don't believe that The Mistress of Fear married this guy when she as tall as Killer croc and he like-." Riddler emphasize the height between Mistress and Scarecrow.

"He survived the other dozen times he fought her. Hell, Joker is still in the isolated cell for extend time after what she done to him the first fight, but seeing this. I can see she pretty much destroyed the poor guy to the point of bedrest." Bane spoke quietly, which cause the roar of laughter to begin in the meeting table.

"Bet she had many treats and tricks for our poor scarecrow to be walking like baby deer like that."

....

....

....

Jonathan wanted to blow up the entire meeting with his newly tested extreme fear toxic bomb so badly, but he held his anger and embarrassed down tight, considering half the thing they were gossiping were the truth.

They didn't have a clue what he went through personally.

He could barely hold a shiver trying to rise up his back after what was his honeymoon, along with learning some deep dark secrets Lilith had in her closet after he tried to snoop into.

Her endless, glowing green otherworldly filled of the damned souls that the soulshredder hoard closet that sucked him in for what felt like eternity when it was only 5 minutes in there before he passed out from terror.

No wonder she wasn't afraid inhaling the damn fear toxic when she had a goddamn portal to hell in her bedroom.

What he got forced into marrying her was to destroy her, but he was now playing against the unknown element that Lilith was a mistress of.

He doesn't want to remember the Training schedule she set upon him, but the lessons..

Oh the lessons of learning about fear essence in souls, Jonathan was drooling like he was starving for every single word that Lilith was speaking during that entire session, not cause his heart was skipping a beat with how she grin about a certain topic in fear or how his palms drench in sweat and face burning hotter then lava watching her show him a tiny water drop size of Fear essence in her hands.

He never was sexually attracted to anyone women or man, much less desire to touch or have affection for, but at that moment seeing that sparkle of flaming interest and desire in lilith's eyes showing him that made all the blood in his head went south for the first time in ever was the most embarrassing thing in his entire life.

He was fucked.. even literally in the sense.

Previous pt 1 link<- pt 3 link here<-

[notashadowbutawave]

finally talked my wife into watching 8x06 "confessions" with me and WOW there's quite a lot going on in this breakup scene in buck's apartment (and the infamous glee scene for that matter) that I haven't seen discussed much on this website (though maybe I'm just not finding it?) like this show is always yelling the themes in your face but...

first of all I think it's somewhat intentional that Buck is being written as kind of regressing. So far in the show, he's gotten his confidence in romantic relationships by fulfilling the role with the person that he thinks he should fulfill. with Abby, Buck had just learned about serious adult romantic relationships and how they work and was trying to Be A Partner in a complete speed run. But he learned that no amount of devotion is a substitute for functionality. with Taylor, he was trying to Be A Functional Partner - and he learned that being a partner Has To involve trust, and that trust comes from somewhere else other than just our actions - it has to come from our hearts.

Tommy is the first person he's ever dated where he doesn't know what the next steps are and that's because this isn't something he has a blueprint for - being a Partner and a Functional Partner for somebody who sees right through him and sees exactly what he's trying to do, to make Tommy never leave. Abby was completely clueless (sorry I really dislike Abby) and Taylor didn't realize that an adult man could behave so badly without utter malice in his heart. Both of them kind of make the mistake of being vulnerable to Buck's charms.

Tommy is of course vulnerable to Buck's charms but Buck is more transparently himself with Tommy as well - and what Tommy sees, then, is a person who is deeply insecure and may be trending in the right direction but ultimately still thinks there's a lever he can pull to make Tommy stay and never leave him. He doesn't know that he's not done cooking yet because every new thing he learns about the world or others makes him feel brand fucking new.

So yes, the glee scene:

Josh was absolutely gagged that Tommy was Abby's ex fiance

Buck's first instinct is to see the situation from Abby's side and go into protective mode which is adorably loyal to be fair but also like ; get a grip

I actually love Josh's framing of "you care about this person and if you want a future in a queer relationship you need to learn that we don't all come to this the same way"

Did they need a cultural reference? No. Were they going to self referentially congratulate Ryan Murphy for inflicting it on the world? Yes.

And regarding the breakup itself:

What is wrong with this fandom's sense of humor that I haven't seen a gif of "I'm the himbo" ??? Like yes babe u sure are come here

Buck is really working so hard in this scene to make sure Tommy knows that he's serious. He's like... this freaked me out but I've decided I'm cool with it. She changed my life but not like you !!!

Like bless his heart, Buck thought he was really doing the right thing by telling Tommy about Abby BEFORE ASKING HIM TO MOVE IN WITH HIM. like MY CARDS ARE ON THE TABLE??? SEE??? LOVE ME FOREVER !! it's adorable and it's also cringe as fuck.

I think the real sin of the writing here is making Buck so completely clueless that this is the wrong move. Like he's kind of an idiot (Eddie Diaz's words not mine) but moving in with someone after dating them for six months in your 30s is WILD behavior and I don't think even Evan Buckley would fail to realize that this is a bit much in this moment.

But idk being in love makes one do stupid things? I did all of my messy bitch relationship shit before I turned 30 but I guess it is buck we are talking about

I completely understand why Tommy reacts the way he does in this scene and bless Lou Ferrigno Jr for acting it with such nuance, much more depth than the scene frankly deserves. What a heartbreaker. Like you see him tense up at Buck's request

"I'm not saying let's get married or engaged, even though we would have the right, thanks to the brave people who came before, including you." such an insane thing to say to your boyfriend. Whoever approved this script was trying to take me out like with a gun.

You then see the absolute grief in Tommy's eyes like oh god this kid is killing me. He's so sweet. He's so cute. He doesn't get it. I love him. He doesn't get it.

As an aside, Eddie being stalked in the juice bar by the hot priest was absolutely incredible.

I didn't hate this episode but wow the writing does suck shit, however I fully believe it makes sense for them to break up here and get back together in the future ??? because Buck DOES have some shit to figure out. Like moving in with someone is a lot of fucking intimacy REALLY fast and baby boy sometimes you NEED to pump the brakes a little ESPECIALLY when you think someone might be THE ONE and you just figured out you like guys six months ago.

I get it and yeah the writing is tragic and the inclusion of Abby in general is just unhinged and unnecessary but like I don't hate the broad strokes here. how else does the blorbo learn if not by ritual torture by the writers. Lou is too good to not have back though. My god what a treasure.

end bucktommy endgame truther transmission

[xhazzz]

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Strawberry-grilled cheese

warnings: make out, kissing, nudity (not explicit smut), coursing

summary: first night together

a/n: ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LENGUAGE so feel free to correct me if there’s anything wrong :)

masterlist || request’s are open

READER’S POV:

The past few weeks had felt like a dream. Jake and I had been seeing each other almost every day—going to the movies, having dinner at home, spending Friday nights at The Hard Deck with the gang, and even sneaking in visits to the base when I brought lunch to my dad. Nat teased us constantly, saying we looked like a high school romance.

“So, are you finally going to spill the tea?” my friend asked, raising an eyebrow. We were chatting comfortably on one of the bar’s couches while the guys were betting on who could beat Hangman at darts. “Is Hangman as good in bed as he brags?”

“God, Phoenix,” I laughed, blushing. “We haven’t even slept together…”

“What?!” she laughed, clearly shocked. “Respect, girl. You’ve got Hangman eating out of the palm of your hand, and he’s completely celibate.”

“Stop,” I rolled my eyes and grabbed a fry from the table. “It’s not like we don’t want to, but we always get interrupted. Last Friday, I almost stripped in front of Coyote.”

“Wasn’t he supposed to be on a date with the girl from the control tower?”

“He was supposed to be,” I sighed, glancing at my boyfriend as he grabbed another round of beers from the bar. “Luckily, Jake managed to cover me with his uniform.”

“Damn, girl…” Nat chuckled.

“Freakin’ Hangman,” Rooster said as he joined us with our drinks. “The idiot made me lose fifty bucks.”

“It’s not my fault you suck, Bradshaw,” Jake shot back, sliding into the seat next to me and draping his arm over my shoulders. “I told you I’m the best there is, didn’t I, Y/N?”

“Oh, you wish, babe,” I laughed, playfully hitting his chest. “You definitely need an ego check.”

Bradley and Nat booed him, laughing, while Jake pretended to be offended.

“What I need is a quiet night with my girl, without any interruptions,” Jake murmured, leaning into my ear and kissing the top of my head and then my chin.

“You two are disgusting,” Roo said, throwing a fry at Jake. “Get a room.”

“I think we will,” I said, settling into my seat and patting Jake’s leg.

“Hell yeah!” Jake exclaimed, jumping up and grabbing my hand to pull me along.

“Are you serious?” Nat asked, raising an eyebrow. “Right now?”

“Right now,” Jake said, grabbing his jacket. “Hey, Coyote, you’d better not come home tonight. I’ll change the locks if I have to.”

“All yours, man,” his friend replied with a wink, clearly occupied with the blonde sitting next to him.

I let go of Jake’s hand for a moment and walked over to Penny at the bar.

“Penny, can you put it all on Rooster’s tab?” I grinned. This was payback for getting free drinks all week in exchange for my number.

“You got it, sweetheart,” she smiled, glancing at Jake and me. “If I see your dad, I’ll let him know not to wait up.”

—————————————————————————————————————————————

As soon as we got to Jake’s apartment, he pinned me against the door, cradling my face and kissing me like there was no tomorrow. Our lips fit together perfectly.

“Damn, you taste so good,” Jake murmured, barely pulling away. “You taste like strawberries.”

He began leaving soft kisses and gentle bites along my jaw and neck as I started unbuttoning his shirt, one button at a time.

“And you smell amazing, sweetheart,” he added, sliding his hands down my hips, squeezing my ass, and lifting me by the thighs so I could wrap my legs around his waist. “You smell like vanilla.”

I let out a laugh, wrapping my arms around his neck as he carried me to the bedroom. He gently laid me down on the bed and pulled back just enough to look at me. I finished unbuttoning his shirt, and Jake shrugged it off, tossing it somewhere in the room. His dog tags were the only thing left on his chest. I grabbed them, pulling him closer to kiss him again.

I slowly ran my hands down his toned abdomen while he kissed my neck again. His hands moved from my thighs to the hem of my shirt, slipping under it to touch me softly. His touch sent shivers through my body. His thumb grazed the edge of my bra before cupping my breasts in his hands, squeezing them lightly, making me moan.

My hands moved down to his belt buckle, and I quickly undid it as he pulled my shirt over my head.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, starting to undo my pants. Clothes disappeared in a matter of seconds, and the temperature in the room kept rising. The only sounds were our moans and soft murmurs.

Jake was leaning back against the headboard while I straddled his lap, my head tilted back from the pleasure he was giving me. His lips left wet kisses on my breasts, occasionally nipping at them, while his hands roamed my body. They traveled from my neck to my ass, giving it a playful slap as I picked up the pace.

“Damn it, Jake…” I moaned. “I’m close.”

“You feel so good, my love,” he replied, taking control and thrusting into me with more intensity. “You’re perfect, my beautiful girl.”

I moaned loudly as I climaxed, burying my face in the crook of his neck. A few moments later, Jake followed, holding me tightly with both arms as we caught our breath and let our heartbeats steady.

“I don’t know what you’ve done to me, woman,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead and tracing soft patterns on my back with his fingertips. “But I’m crazy about you.”

We stayed like that for a few minutes, wrapped in each other’s arms, with him still inside me. I left a trail of kisses along his chin and neck before resting my head on his chest, closing my eyes and listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“As much as I love holding you like this, let me take care of you”, Jake said, lifting me slightly and pulling out carefully before laying me back on the bed and heading to the bathroom. His sheets smelled like his cologne. “Here you go, baby.”

Jake returned with a damp towel and gently cleaned my legs. When he was done, he pressed a kiss to my ankles.

“Do you want some water? Are you hungry?” he asked, sitting beside me.

“What I want is for you to lie down with me again,” I sighed, patting the spot next to me on the bed.

He wrapped his arm around me and pulled me close. We lay in comfortable silence as he ran his fingers through my hair, untangling it. We talked here and there, about trivial things, laughing and stealing kisses as if there were no tomorrow.

“Are you sure you don’t want to eat something?” Jake asked again. “I can make you a fantastic grilled cheese sandwich.”

“That sounds amazing,” I laughed, propping myself up on my elbow and kissing his lips softly.

We both got up. Jake slipped on a pair of boxers and grabbed a Naval Academy shirt for me. He picked up my panties from the floor and tossed them to me playfully.

“I like these,” he teased with a grin. “Maybe I’ll keep them.”

I rolled my eyes, laughing, and got up to put them on.

“I could leave them for you as a souvenir,” I teased, walking toward the door.

“I love that idea,” he said, following me and giving me a playful slap on the ass. “But don’t worry, sweetheart, I like the thought of you wearing them and me being the only one to take them off even more.”

[achilles-rage]

Hii can I request 18) complicated sex with an ex from the smut list with buck

sorry this took a while, my mom wanted to watch the beetlejuice movies with me lol. but i'm back, and i'm gonna post a couple more before i go to bed!!

number 18 from this post: "complicated sex with an ex"

you remember the last time you saw evan.

you were both 19, and he had just told you that he was dropping out of college and running away from pennsylvania. you had been dating for almost a year, and even after you begged him to stay with you, to not leave you, he had told you that he had to.

with that, he was gone, and you hadn't seen, or heard from him, in 10 years.

until today.

you had recently moved to los angeles for work, and when your building was doing a routine fire drill, you saw the man that you were sure you'd never see again. one that had left you when you were 19 and had you questioning every relationship you've been in since.

"evan?"

your voice travels through the crowd and hits his ears, and his stomach drops.

he knows that voice. he knows it will too well. and, the last time he heard it, it was practically screaming at him, telling him that he was abandoning her, and that he didn't love her as much as she thought he did.

when his eyes meet yours, both of your expressions are the exact same; jaws slack, and the look in your eyes a mix between disbelief, joy, and a tinge of regret.

"what are you doing here?" he asks as he closes the distance between you two. he wants to reach out to you, to pull you into his arms and never let go, but he holds back. the last time you saw him, you were crying, and yelling, telling him that you hated him in the heat of the moment.

"i live here." you reply, your voice light and airy, as if you still don't believe that he's standing in front of you.

"me too." he tells you, a smile making its way onto his face as his eyes travel down your soft figure. you're still the same as 10 years ago, although you look older. he's missed your kind eyes, and you pretty smile, but he also misses your plush body, the one that he's been thinking of for years.

he's torn from his daze when he feels your palm hit his chest. it's not hard enough to hurt, especially with his gear on, and when his eyes meet yours again, he sees anger and hurt replacing the disbelief in your eyes.

"how could you?" you whisper-yell, still aware enough that you're surrounded by people.

he opens his mouth to speak, then closes it, then opens it again, but no words come out.

those years were some of the best of his life; he got to travel the world and meet so many people, but they were also the hardest. he knew you wouldn't go with him, and he didn't want you to either. he knew how important college was to you, and he didn't want to make you decide between him and your future.

as he looks down at you, head still spinning with both disbelief and relief that you're finally back, all he can say is "do you wanna go out with me?"

"what?" you ask, brows furrowed and a slight frown on your face. this is the first time you've seen him in how long, and he's asking you out?

"please let me make it up to you. i was a fucking idiot- i still am. please let me take you out." he pleads. he knows you've never been able to say no to his puppy-dog eyes.

"okay." you say with a sigh. at the very least, you’ll get the chance to tell him how he made you feel.

evan, who you've since learned goes by buck now, is still as charismatic as ever, and by the end of the night, you felt yourself, against your better judgement, forgiving him for everything.

it’s how he get you here; in his apartment, in his bed, completely bare and pinned down under him.

his thrusts are slow and deep, and you can feel his hot breath on your ear as he moans lowly into your ear. he was good at sex when you were dating, but you catch yourself thinking about how the hell he got so good since then. he’s hitting that spot inside of you that has you seeing stars, and it’s making your back arch and your eyes roll back in pure ecstasy.

“fuck, i’ve missed you so much, baby.” he rasps in your ear before bringing his lips to yours, kissing you so passionately that your head spins.

all you can do is moan in response, gripping his shoulders tightly as you feel yourself clenching around him. when he parts from the kiss, he looks down into your eyes as he trails one hand down to your cunt, fingers finding your clit and rubbing lazy circles around it.

you whimper loudly, tightening your legs around his hips, and as you get dangerously close to the edge, all the doubt you had of him disappears.

he makes sure you both cum at the same time, and he holds your head in place so he can look into your eyes, groaning as he shoots his seed into your cunt. he continues his movements for a few more sloppy thrusts, letting you both ride out your highs, then kisses you deeply, savouring the feeling of you back in his bed again.

he buries his face in the crook of your neck as you both catch your breath, and as you stare up at the ceiling and listen to the steady sound of his breathing, you feel tears form in your eyes. you’ve been thinking about evan for years, and you were angry for so long, and now you feel an odd feeling between shame and relief that you’re back with him.

he left you, and you fell into his bed so quickly. all it took was one dinner and a few apologies. you remember telling yourself years ago that you’d never forgive him; that he had broken your heart and doesn’t deserve a second chance.

“woah, hey, are you okay?” you hear him ask when he finally pulls back from your neck and looks down at you. he can see the tears in your eyes, and the small frown gracing your lips, and his heart shatters.

“please don’t leave me again.” you whisper, a few tears finally falling down your cheek as you look into his eyes. you can feel your throat tighten as you fight back a sob, and you blink slowly, trying to blink away the tears threatening to follow the first few.

he sighs at your words, bringing one hand up to cup your cheek. he gives you a sad smile as you lean into his touch, and then he leans down and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“oh, baby. i wouldn’t dream of it.” he reassures you, and he means it. he never wants to be away from you ever again.

[absolutelybifurious]

i really do struggle with wanting eddie to be hyper dommy/controlling/brat tamey like that man has been through so much, he tried to drive his mom to the hospital when he was like ten years old bc no one was around to help... he had a kid when he was still a kid, i know people love what they love but for me its so counterintuitive to the character because eddie has been hands clenched holding the brittle cracked vase of his sanity and life together for SO long like... the idea of buck finally letting him let go? buck? who's fought his entire life to be taken seriously?? thats GOOOOD SHIT.

one of the first key moments of connection between them was the intro of carla which gave eddie a little bit of reprieve. that man does not need to tame any brats or pick out anyone's outfits - he's been doing that his whole life, i don't get the fantasy of making him do it more?

i guess to me it feels like more of an objectifying viewpoint than an empathetic one. and i get my interpretation isn't fact. this is a fictional dude, but you know, speaking my truth i guess

[brotherwtf]

Hi, about the fluffy prompts

Lately I’ve been thinking about insomniac gale who develops a habit of falling asleep on John. Maybe it’s post war buckies, maybe it’s modern AU, where they are roommates but what if gale, who is tortured every night, accidentally falls asleep on John’s shoulder and is absolutely mortified after, but two days and another sleepless night later, Buck sees Bucky on the couch, watching some movie and his shoulder suddenly looks so inviting. “It was an accident, there’s no way I can fall asleep again” but he does and suddenly John becomes his favorite pillow. And John is more than happy to help because he has always been worried about Gale. Oh and what if one night, Gale’s initial plan was to sleep in his own bed, but torturous hours later, he knocks on John’s door, shifting uncomfortably, embarrassed. John takes one look at him and goes “come here”

oh my God this is so cute!! I always hc that Gale has hella sleeping problems, maybe even before the war, and like just CANNOT sleep when the war is over, just plagued with nightmares and sleep paralysis every night

he can't sleep in a bed anymore, as soon as his head hits the pillow he's thinking about German guards rousting him from his sleep, or an officer coming to shake him on the shoulder and tell him he's flying a mission, so he often tries to sleep on a chair or the floor as to not arise those memories, it often doesn't work, whenever he closes his eyes he's reminded of flames and fire and burning men, he hasn't had a restful night in god knows how long

he's a little jealous of how easily John seems to sleep, knows he must be plagued by nightmares as well but never seems to show it, always seems to be rejuvenated and refreshed every morning while Gale still feels like he's dying

he has moments of peace though, what if John came to visit him and Marge before Gale left her and they're both sitting on the couch, dutifully staying out of Marge's way while she makes dinner

maybe Johns just reading or something and Gale can feel his eyes droop with exhaustion in the late summer afternoon, doesn't even realize he's fallen asleep on John's shoulder until he can feel John rustling his shoulder

"didn't wanna wake you, Buck, but Marge says dinner is ready," John whispers and Gale's absolutely horrified by the position he's in, his face tucked into John's shoulder with his body curved into John's

it's the evening, Gale realizes, and he must have slept for a couple of hours, at least before he was woken up, and he realizes that's the longest he's ever slept uninterrupted

it haunts him, that oh so relaxing sleep on John's shoulder whenever he sleeps fitfully in Marge's bed, and that paired with a bunch of other shit (namely the feelings he has for his boy best friend), he decides to leave Marge and find John

and he shows up on John's doorstep, desperate and pathetic like a stray dog, asking for a place to stay because he left Marge, and John, always so fucking kind, allows him into his home

Gale banishes himself to the guest room even though John says he can take the master, and hopes that just being in John's proximity can help him sleep, but he's still awake to the long hours of the night with nightmares and curses to himself, why isn't this working?

and then they find themselves in a similar position again, sitting on the couch while the radio drones a baseball game or some music and Gale can't help but think that John's shoulder looks like a much better pillow than anything Gale's ever seen, so he lets himself lean over, and John's arm comes around to wrap around Gale's shoulder and pull him closer, and Gale sleeps for six hours in John's arms

it must be an accident, it can't be that Gale can only sleep in John's arms, so he tells himself he's going to sleep in his bed, still thinks it's only John's presence that's making him more relaxed, John had always been that sort of relaxing force for him, but when he jolts up in the night again after hours of fighting sleep, he curses to himself and quietly pads to John's room

he hopes he can just slip into John's arms without waking him, will slip out just before the sun rises and John will be none the wiser, but he can see John's body shifted towards him when Gale quietly opens the door and Gale curses to himself again, hoping he didn't wake John with his foolish ventures

but John just reaches his arm out, beckons with his fingers for Gale to come closer, and it's like John has a string attached to his heart because he can't stop his feet from moving towards the bed

"come here, Gale" John whispers, voice hoarse with sleep, and that's the final push for Gale to collapse in John's bed with him

and John so easily wraps his arms around Gale's waist, tucks his face into Gale's neck as an invitation for Gale to do the same, and it's almost as if John's blocking the nightmares and the restlessness with his touch and for the first time in years, Gale sleeps through the night

loved this prompt I love an excuse to make Gale a little pathetic with it 😔

[hazeystar]

love (you), actually

Evan was standing in front of his door with a stack of white poster board in his hands, the first one saying 'Tell them it's carol singers.'

It's two months after the breakup, and Tommy opens the door to the romantic experience he's been waiting for his whole life

because tommy is our resident romcom lover and he deserves his moment! also s/o @bibibievansbuckley because this was born from one of our very late night ramblings because all we know at this point is tevan

wc: 2187, below the break and also on ao3

The knock at the door draws Tommy out of his thoughts. 

He was sitting in his living room, doing the only thing he really felt like doing these days: watching romcoms. Today’s pick was Notting Hill and he didn’t even have enough energy to stop himself from putting himself as Hugh Grant and Evan Buck as Julia Roberts. 

It was weeks since he walked out of that loft for the first time and he didn’t know what to do with himself. He knew it was stupid, in hindsight, the entire night almost reads like a fever dream. They were supposed to be going on a date and Tommy left heartbroken and empty.  

Really, he should have reached out by day two, maybe ask Buck to coffee like he did all those months ago but he couldn’t do it. He asked him to move in and Tommy basically took a sledgehammer to the idea and nuked his own heart in the process.  

Day ten was when he dragged himself back to therapy. At the time, he didn’t know why his gut reaction was to tell Buck no, but now, he realised it was self-preservation. Years of pent-up trauma were cause to this, especially from hearing that ‘my first isn’t going to be my last’ from not one, but two of the boyfriends he had in the years since he’d moved to Harbour. 

And then he threw those words right back into Buck’s face. Evan, the human embodiment of sunshine and a golden retriever, who stumbled over his words but managed to ask him to move into the loft (the fucking loft, which ends up being a 10 minute rant with his therapist because why in the hell would tommy move into a loft when he owns a house, what would they do with the cars, his Muay Thai set up, the garden that’s finally starting to look decent in his backyard-, he found some more underlying issues there as well, but also was told that particular thread was not his fault) and Tommy felt like someone had poured ice water on him. 

He’d seen this path before, only twice but two times is enough to leave a mark. The first time was probably enough as well, but the second time just dug a knife again into a wound that had just barely healed. So he did what he thought was best: act proactively. If he got ahead of the problem, if he got away from Evan before he could fall in love, then maybe it wouldn’t be as disastrous.  

How absolutely wrong he was. 

It felt so bad when he was walking away that he genuinely considered the possibility that it would have hurt less if he and Evan were living together for months and then they broke up. 

He wanted to go back, apologise, tell him he didn’t mean it but- Buck said he admired him. And it was those words that were on replay as he drove himself home. 

He admired him. Tommy, the guy who was so scared about being gay that at age 30, he was engaged to a woman. Tommy, who gave his heart out to the world because he wanted to feel like he was in Love, Actually, that he had someone who wanted him back just as fiercely and was sorely let down every time.  

So he let himself down this time. Better that than be hurt by Evan. Of course, by doing it this way, he hurt himself and Evan, but he could bounce back. He was young, and your first isn’t your last. 

It took two different sessions to beat that idea out of him.  

Sometimes, your first isn’t your last. But sometimes it also is. It just depends on when you find your person. 

Tommy found his person. He just didn’t realise it until he nuked the entire relationship. 

Two months later, he still didn’t reach out, not really sure where to even start. Evan didn’t reach out either, so maybe it was just a case of right person, wrong time. 

That was fine, Tommy could just imagine him in every romcom he watched. 

There was another knock at the door, this one a little more insistent. 

Right, the door. Tommy stood up, running a hand through the mess of curls on his head. Evan had liked them, was always sad when he cut his hair or weighed it down with gel. In the initial weeks of the breakup, he couldn’t find it in himself to get it cut, and then eventually he started to like the curls. Now they were here to stay. 

He opened the door and was not at all ready to see Evan Buckley on the other side. 

Two months had passed, and he still looked gorgeous. He looked tired; there was stubble along his jaw, bags under his eyes that were more prominent than he’d ever seen, even after a rough round of 48s for a week. His hair was curly, like he had the same idea Tommy did about letting it grow out. His eyes were still their clear blue, albeit a little sad but dancing with something else- hope maybe? He was wearing the hoodie he recognised from that first coffee date (so that’s where it went) and was holding poster board- 

What? 

Evan was standing in front of his door with a stack of white poster board in his hands, the first one saying, ‘Tell them it’s carol singers.’ 

Tommy blinked. “Ev- Buck, there’s no one el-” 

He shook the stack hard, giving a pointed look down at the cards before back up at him. There was a speaker set down next to him and the boards in hand... The entire scene felt familiar. 

There was no way- 

Evan wanted him to play along, he’d play along. He looked back over his shoulder, to the TV that still had Julia Roberts on screen. “It’s carol singers.” 

He turned back to Evan, who has fiddling with his phone until music began pouring out of the speaker. Silent Night started playing and Tommy felt tears prick the corner of his eyes. 

He knew this scene by heart. 

Evan dropped the first card, the second one reading ‘I’m sorry.’ 

He opened his mouth to speak, Evan didn’t need to be sorry, Tommy was sorry, but another look from him promptly shut him up. He nodded, Evan smiling back. 

The card dropped. ‘It’s been over 2 months since you walked out of my loft.’ 

‘So I’m saying sorry and I’ll say it again.’ 

‘Sorry for jumping right to moving in without properly talking.’ 

‘And saying to move into the loft (that was stupid, you have a house, we’re at your house).’ He let out a laugh at that, and got another smile out of Evan. 

This was really happening. Holy shit, Evan was standing in front of his house in the middle of August, blaring Silent Night from his speaker and holding up cards to give a whole silent speech. 

It was Love, Actually in real life. For him. Evan was doing this for Tommy.  

Tears were rolling down his face now, and he hastily wiped them away to read the next one. 

‘I’m sorry I didn’t reach out sooner.’ 

‘Or talk things out better.’ 

‘And I know you’re thinking that I’m saying sorry too much, and that you’re also sorry.’ 

He was, he so very was. And the look in Evan’s eyes told him he knew, he saw it. 

‘I know you are, and I forgive you.’ He met his eyes again, mouthing a very watery ‘I forgive you, too.’ 

Evan had tears in his eyes as well, as he smiled back and mouthed ‘I know.’ 

He itched to move closer, to pull him back into his arms, to hold him. But Evan still had a stack in his hands, and Tommy was touched and curious and seen. 

‘I know ‘admire’ wasn’t the right word to say back then.’ He sucked in a breath, remembering the whole speech vividly. 

‘Even though I do admire how you got to where you are now.’ 

‘I don’t admire you, Tommy Kinard.’ 

‘I love you.’ 

Tommy let out a sob then, knees almost buckling as he clutched the doorframe with one hand to stay upright. Evan loves him. 

He moved to take a step forward, but Evan took one back, shaking his head even though he looked like he wanted nothing more than to be closer to Tommy as well. He still had more to say. 

Tommy nodded, letting the tears run freely down his face. Evan loves him. 

The next card was full of writing and Tommy could barely read all of it. It was numbered though, and when Tommy dragged his eyes across it (cleft, Muay Thai, hands, beer knowledge...) the last number went to 50. 

50 things Evan loved about him. 

The card dropped and Tommy almost thought it was a repeat until he saw the last number. 

100. 

His jaw dropped, a broken sob leaving him. 

Evan wrote out a list of 100 things he loves about him. About Tommy.  

He ran because he was scared, that Evan was jumping the gun by asking him to move into the loft, that he didn’t actually love him, that he was just a place holder until he went and found something better. 

But here was Evan, standing here in the middle of August with cards that listed out 100 things he loved about him, reenacting his favourite movie of all time. For him.  

‘I love you, Tommy Kinard.’ A fresh wave of tears flowing from both of them. 

‘And for the love of God, please call me Evan.’ 

“Evan, please can I move now?” He whispered, watching as he dropped the last board and stood there, almost sheepishly. 

Silent Night was still playing on loop, and Evan was standing there in his hoodie, and he’d never looked more perfect in his life. 

He nodded, and that was all Tommy needed before he went rushing forward, wrapping his arms around him tight. 

To his credit, Evan only stumbled back a step, his own arms immediately circling around Tommy’s waist. 

It’d been two months too long. He wanted this every day. He wants this for the rest of his life. 

Tommy didn’t believe in soulmates, not really. He didn’t believe that there was someone out there with the other half of his soul. But then Evan showed up in life on a hurricane and everything afterwards just felt so right, like he was missing something before Evan came in. 

Evan was his person, through and through. He didn’t just love Tommy, he knew him. He knew that he was a romantic at heart, the soft soul he kept hidden away, and came out with the biggest romantic gesture anyone had ever done for him. 

“Thank you,” he whispered into Evan’s curls, feeling his arms tighten to pull him impossibly closer.  

“I love you.” He said it like a promise, a prayer, and Tommy melted. He pulled away just enough to look Evan in the eye. His face was splotchy and red with tears and Tommy had no doubt that he looked the same, if not worse. 

Evan Buckley loved him. 

He pressed their lips together, hard and desperate and passionate. Evan kissed him back like a man starved, and if he had any doubts about how he felt even after the board display, he didn’t have any now. 

They pulled apart to take a breath, and Tommy stared at his face. The one he knew by heart, the one he knew no amount of time would ever make him forget.  

“I love you.” The smile he received was blinding.  

Once it’s out in the open, it’s all he can say. It’s all he wants to say.  

He pulled Evan into the house, casting a look back at the speaker and the large pile of cards still sitting on the walkway up to the door.  

Evan brought him back into a kiss the second the door closed. His hands tangled in his curls, pulling Tommy down just a hair. This one was less desperate, and Evan was guiding him over to the couch.  

He fell back first, Evan settling on top of him. He broke away for only a moment, whispered “I love you” against his lips before diving back in again. 

This is the conversation they should have had two months ago. Tommy’s felt this way since the hospital wedding, hell, maybe even before then.  

And if the way Evan kissed him said anything, then he wasn’t alone in that feeling either.  

He pulled away this time, staring into Evan’s blue eyes as his thumb ghosted over his birthmark. There wasn’t a need for anymore conversation right now, Tommy will make sure to give his own apology later. 

But right now, with Evan as a comforting weight on top of him, a smile on his face as he moved impossibly closer into his touch, there was only one thing that needed to be said. 

“I love you.” 

[totallynotasimp67]

Edge

I’ll be honest, it shocked me that I wrote this, but I guess asexuals write good smut, I do apologize for any spelling errors I’m minorly dyslexic

Tags: smut, 99% smut, edging, p in v, trans 09’ Ghost, smut then fluff, Soap 100% has a praise kink but he doesn’t get off on being praised he gets off on praising his partner, post top surgery pre bottom surgery Ghost, after care fluff

09’ Soap keeping 09’ Ghost on his lap, Ghost begging to touch his Captain or himself or for Soap to touch him, something, anything, but Soaps hands were placed firmly on Ghosts hips effectively pinning Ghost to his thigh, arms bound and placed around Soaps neck

Soap relished in watching his little Ghost squirm, begging for stimulation but unable to do anything,

“Please sir,” Ghost begged “I’m getting your pants wet”

“that’s fine,” his eyes felt predatory to Ghost, but not in malicious way, in a way that made Ghosts body tingle

after a few agonizing minutes for Ghost, Captain MacTavish finally removes a hand to begin fingering Ghost, who moans at the stimulation he finally received

“You aren’t allowed to cum yet, not until I say so”

A command Ghost wouldn’t, no, couldn’t ignore he wanted to please his dear Captain, Soap not satisfied with out an answer asks “what do you say”

“Ye-yes sir” Ghost stammered

Satisfied, Soap removed his slick covered fingers and moved them to his mouth, making sure to look Ghost in the eye while he licks every ounce of the slick coating his fingers

“Such a good boy for me, aren’t you Si,” praising Ghost for being so good and listening to orders, licking his lips “mmhmm, I think I want some more”

Inserting his fingers in Ghost once more relishing the moan Ghost let’s out, this routine of edging and praise goes on for what feels like forever to Ghost, begging for Soap to do more

Soap knew what Ghost wanted, he wanted it too, it was getting unbearable to not be doing more, his hard cock begging to be released from the confines of Soaps pants and plunged into Ghost wet pussy, in one smooth moment Soap pulls his pants and underwear down, revealing his cock, hard and leaking pre cum

Lifting Ghost off his lap as if he weighed nothing, moving them to the desk in front of them he laid Ghost on the desk, lifting his bound legs over John’s shoulders, moving Ghosts shirt up and over his head, giving Soap access to Ghosts chest, kissing, biting and groping Ghost, eliciting moans, Ghost bucking his hips, begging for Soap

Soap wanted to, no it was more that that

He needed make Ghost his, mind and body, heart and soul,

He needed to mark every inch of Ghost,

He needed to let everyone know Lieutenant Riley was his, and no one could take that from him

Soap he knew he couldn’t mark all of Ghosts body so he’d have to settle for a few locations, his inner thigh, chest and neck

Slowly, at first, inserting himself into Ghost elliseting a loud moan from Ghost, Soap wanted to Simon to feel everything slowly. He started by going from tip to base, in and out, every time he slowly pulled out to the tip, nearly pulling out completely every time, then thrusting quickly back in, every thrust had Ghost moaning, arching his back, bucking his hips, clawing at Soap’s back, and all the while Soap was loosing it little by little, each thrust getting harder and harder, kissing and biting the tender skin of Ghost chest and neck harder than before

“Sir, please,“ Ghost pleaded “I can’t take much more”

One last thrust shakes the desk from its strength, Soap removed himself from Ghost, making him wine in discontent at the loss of his Captain’s cock

“Last as long as you can” Soap teases before dropping to his knees, biting Ghosts inner thigh getting closer with each bite to Ghosts sopping pussy, teasingly licking around his lips, once, twice

Licking Ghosts clit has him moaning and arching his back, making Soap grin, finally plunging his tongue into his pussy, Ghost grabs Soaps hair shoving his head harder into his pussy legs squeezing Soaps head, it’s not long of this when Soap needs to breathe but Ghost hasn’t cum yet, and he refuses to stop until Ghost cums, and he’s still being held in place by Ghost’s thighs and hands, squeezing harder pushing his face farther into his pussy, dying like this would be an honor, a passing thought as Soap moves his hands, grabbing at the soft flesh of Simon’s thighs, moving one to play with Simon’s clit, the other providing extra stimulation to his pussy

Grip tightening on Soaps hair, moaning “sir, I-I can’t,” Simon cries “I’m gonna cum”

Soaps neglected cock aches as his lover cums, he tries to lick up as much cum as he can, not wanting to waste a single drop of this heavenly elixir, Soap is finally released from Simons thighs, his hands releasing their grip on his hair

Soap stands, leaning over Simon, eyes full of ecstasy and love, basking in how his lover looks in the after glow, looking Simon in the eye,

“You taste like heaven”

“Ca-Captain,” Ghost pants “let me, please let me pleasure you too”

Untying Ghosts wrists and ankles, kissing up and down his arms and legs, praising how good he did, how good he tastes, eventually he’s sat back in his office chair, aching cock, neglected in favor of his lover, Simon weakly gets off the desk and on his knees resting his head on Soaps inner thigh

“Please, let me help you”

A curt nod from Soap is all the confirmation needs to start, licking the pre cum that leaked from base to tip, licking once more from base to the tip has John shivering at how good it felt, kissing around the tip Ghost wants to go slow, show his Captain how much he loves him, he wants to show John as much love as he received and more, more pre cum leaks out, Ghost licks it quickly, enveloping the head in his mouth, licking the slit more, bringing his head down Ghost envelopes more of Soaps cock in his mouth, pushing to the base

“Your mouth feels so fuckin’ good Si” Johnnys head fell back as he moaned, hands gripping the arm rests, resisting the urge to grip Simon’s hair and keeping his face pressed flush against his pelvis, Simon continues bobbing his head from base to tip occasionally removing his mouth entirely to kiss and lick the tip, relishing the state he’s put John in, head thrown back, chest heaving, hands gripping the arm rests so tight his knuckles turned white

Simon knew he could draw this out for a while if he wanted to, teasing Johnny sounded like fun, he wanted to hear the desperate moans fall from his lips, see him squirm because of him, Simon removed his mouth completely much to John’s dismay, his head moving to look Simon in the eye

“Why” he panted

Simon only smiled remembering what John had said only minutes prior “I wanted to look you in the eye when I said this, I wanna hear you, so last as long as you can”

This made John’s heart beat faster, his breathing hastening, cock leaking more pre cum, god, he thought using my own words against me grip getting impossibly tighter, when Simon licked the pre cum John let a moan escape

“yeah,” Simon teased “just like that”

With that Simon enveloped John’s cock completely in one go, making him moan, pleasure coursing through his body, Simon kept bobbing his head up and down John’s cock, every movement make him moan and pant louder, soon though John can’t take any more

“I-I can’t take much more Si” he pants “I’m gonna cum”

Simon doesn’t stop, he wants to swallow everything his Captain releases, and he does with fervor, swallowing every last drop, not letting any thing go to waste, when he’s done he rests his head against John’s thigh once more both their eyes glazed over, once heavy breathing calming down, when John leans over and picks Simon up to sit on his lap, holding him close, kissing him tasting himself on his lovers tongue

———

Johnny picks up Simon, out the office, through the master bedroom and into the master bath, a heater already going making the whole room warm and comfortable, John set Simon down on counter but not before putting a towel down, he didn’t need his love being sat on a cold counter without pants or underwear

Softly, John speaks “I’ll start a bath, and we can clean you up yeah”

Not waiting for a reply he separates from Simon to start the bath, being extremely diligent to make sure the water’s temperature is perfect, once done he returns to Simon, holding him close, kissing up and down his neck while the bath fills

Simon had already been stripped butt naked, so when the bath was ready John put him in, but John still had almost all his clothes on

“You gonna join me?” Simon’s head lulled to the side to face John, pleading eyes he couldn’t say no to, not that he wanted to at this moment

“Aye, give me a sec” with that John undresses, he grabs a wash cloth before getting in behind Simon, head resting on his shoulder, large arms wrapped around the smaller man’s torso, kissing praises into said shoulder

Diligently, John starts to wipe Simon down, starting with his inner thigh, extra careful around the bite marks, but still ensuring they get clean

Simon sighed, content, leaning further into John relishing the moment

“You’re so good to me Johnny”

Pausing a moment as John processed what Simon said, “you’re so good to me, Johnny” why wouldn’t he be, in his eyes Simon deserves the world and John would do anything to make it happen, why would he think he deserves anything less

“I only give you what you deserve” John hummed “now, let’s get to bed, I want to hold you”

Should I cross post this to Ao3? I kinda want to.

I might

[goldenhand9107]

Buck, Actually’s tragic old gay men emotionally destroyed me, i am absolutely bawling rn

[buddiesmutslut]

I’m genuinely so fucking sick of the “you all would have loved it if it was Eddie who made that comment” take.

First of all, Eddie wouldn’t have made comment then, bc he knows how hard it is for Buck to talk about his emotions, & is REALLY good at giving him the space to talk about them, even if he does make jokes, they’re not out of pocket (the coming out scene, anyone? Breaking the tension with a joke & still being supportive without making a joke of his feelings.)

Secondly, even if Eddie DID make that comment, I’d probably still roll my eyes, but I’d be more willing to accept it. Do you wanna know why???

Who was the person that knew the details of what Buck was talking to his therapist about during their emergency session before the Buckley’s visit? Who is the first one they show at Buck’s side when he gets stuck in the warehouse trying to pull Saleh out after learning about Daniel?? Who is the one who was pacing downstairs in the station & making sure Buck was okay after the warehouse, and the one who warned him about his visitors??

Who was the one praying at Bobby’s bedside, right next to Buck in the hospital?

(I’ll give you a hint, it’s not the dude that’s had 10 minutes of fucking screen time that everyone forgot about post s1.)

It wouldn’t have been the same bc TOMMY AND EDDIE ARE NOT THE SAME. They are not on the same level of knowing Buck & understanding when to make jokes & what jokes to make. Your best friend, partner & co-parent of 6 years and the man that you haven’t even called your boyfriend yet are not on the same level of familiarity.

I get that you’re pissed that Tommy is being compared to Buck’s previous love interests (which would be the case, even if he wasn’t just as shitty & uninterested in Buck as a person as they all were) but if you genuinely think that he’s anywhere near Eddie’s level, EVEN PLATONICALLY, then I fear that you have been watching another show entirely, & I encourage you to watch more than just s7, bc that’s the only explanation I can come up with for why this fuck ass take exists.

[tommygotwrittenoff]

i really hope buck like embodies that "i'm your first, not your last" and is really weird about with eddie. like post mutual feelings realizations, buck is all "eddie, i want to be your last, and i can't be your last if i'm your first." and eddie is just like, "buck, i want you to be my first. i want you to be my first because i know you're my last so why would i try with anyone else when all i want is you?" and then buck cries

[softestepilogue]

the constant disregard and erasure of the impact hen and chim had on bobby to help him during season 1 is really wild and exhausting

[khioneee]

simon knew it was over the moment he realized just how freaky you are.

simon knew he was massive—he always had.

it was a quiet fear that followed him, the thought that if he lost control for even a moment, he might hurt you. his touch was always careful, deliberate.

his hands were wrapped around your neck, not tight, but gentle—just enough to feel the pulse beneath your skin. his thumbs rested softly against your throat, his grip light, careful not to leave a mark. but when you started frantically grinding your hips against his, rolling your body in desperate need, everything shifted.

a low, guttural noise rumbled from his throat as his body responded on instinct. without meaning to, his hands tightened, gripping your neck for leverage as you moved against him. he froze for a second, startled by his own strength. but then—

it happened.

you clenched tighter around him, your head falling back as a broken moan escaped your lips. you were crying out, completely undone, lost in the moment. your hips bucked harder, desperate for more, and it hit him like a bolt of lightning:

you liked it rough.

you, his innocent, angelic girl — the one with soft smiles and bright eyes, the one who blushed at the smallest touch — had been hiding it all along.

he stared at you, stunned, as you begged with your body, your innocent exterior cracking to reveal the wicked, burning desire beneath. his angel wasn't just soft and sweet

—you were freaky.

a low growl rumbled in his chest as he leaned in, the ghost of a grin tugging at his lips. “you've been holding out on me, haven't you, lovie?” he murmured, his voice dark with amusement and something far more dangerous.

[tonycries]

Long Overdue!

Synopsis. Just cóckwarming? Funny, you’ll see who breaks first - him or your poor pússy.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, cóckwarming, creampíes, puníshments, REALLY NÉEDY BOYS, breéding, MAJOR overstím, slight exhíbitionism (Toji’s), spítting, they bég, pússy-slappíng, cúmplay, absolutely ruíning Ryomen Sukuna, marathon séx, chokíng, jealousy (Toji’s side), mean Geto, spànking, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.9k (sowwy)

A/N. I would say have a lovely week but then I remembered that leaks are coming out so…<3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - 47 min.

“B-but, doll…” Toji’s groaning in that raggedly sweet tone, voice cracking ever-so-slightly when your plush walls gift him with another unabashed squeeze. Still unmoving. Torturous. “You’re actin’ like I can’t feel the way that needy pussy of yours is just cryin’ f’me.”

It hasn’t even been an hour, and oh god - Toji had absolutely no idea how he was going to make it out of this alive. No clue as to how he was going to break out of these extra heavy-duty handcuffs customized for him. To fuck up into your heavenly cunt the way you deserved. 

The way he deserved. 

“Sh-shut up.” you scoff, looking down at where you had him pinned down messily on the silken sheets. “Before I put a muzzle on you, too, after that stunt you pulled-”

“Anything.” he’s cutting you off. Syrupy mind just a bit too hazy with the feeling of his weepy tip kissing up against your g-spot and being able to do nothing about it. “Anything oh anything- muzzle me, tie me up- ngh fuckin’ call that loser coworker of yours and make me apologize for all I care. Just needa-” 

Toji’s breath hitches when he squirms pathetically underneath you, biceps bulging when he pulls at those fuzzy pink restraints tied to the bedposts. 

“Jus- want you to- fuckin’-” You’re squealing when you feel his thick, muscled thighs flex to plant his feet flat on the plush mattress, toned pelvis rippling. Body bowing up, up, up- “-move!”

It’s barely even a half-thrust, a grind - nothing in comparison to those long, thorough drags of Toji’s cock that you were used to. But the feeling of your every corner being stretched out so full after staying still for so long has you huffing and puffing in a way that has his swollen cock growing even girthier. 

“It’s been ngh-” you reach blearily for the phone at your bedside table to look at the time. “-47 minutes! Y-you don’t get to act this way, y’know. Not after you were so rude to my coworker when meeting him earlier.” But it comes out more breathless than you intended. 

Toji quirks a proud brow, cockiness seeping into his words now that he had you exactly where he wanted after so long. “No, I wasn’t.” 

You’re babbling needily when your boyfriend’s reaching up to kiss at your bruised lips. Soft and licking at the seam of your petty complaints. “You told him to ‘fuck off’ right to his face, Toji! N’ after he was just being nice.”

“Just nice”, his ass. Toji saw the way he looked at you - and he didn’t like it, not one bit.

So in response, all you’re getting is another buck of his hips like such an animal. Once. Twice. Body curling up into yours to stuff your snug channel full. He’s waiting just until you keen and arch back for more before halting so agonizingly still, letting his painfully hard cock mold your plush walls. 

You have to take a moment to collect yourself at the sensation of his prominent veins rubbing up against those hidden sweet spots only Toji could reach. To stop yourself from fucking back desperately. 

“Dontcha think I’ve hah- already learned my lesson now, c’mon. Look-” Greedy eyes locking down at where you straddled him, your pretty pussy lips spread obscenely around his thick shaft. So so angry, covered in a mouthwateringly glossy sheen of your sweet sweet juices. “-bet she wants to be fucked like the slut she is.”

The force of his sharp pelvis has you tumbling face-first first into his chiseled pecs, just enough that Toji’s latching his bullying mouth onto one of your hardened nipples. Smug scar grazing against your sensitive areola, “Besides, is it really my fault?” Another ram, another crash against your ravaged g-spot, pumping in and out like he was addicted to the soft tug of your clingy walls back - now past just cockwarming. Way past. “Please, s’my right to be jealous, doll.” you watch his lewd smirk turn into something grittier. Something that definitely didn’t bode well for your poor cunt. Muffling out, “Sick bastards gotta know when to stay away from my woman.”

Before you’re opening your mouth to retort - or maybe threaten him with tying his legs up, too, so he’s left with only another 40 minutes of cockwarming - a sharp ring of your phone cuts through that heady, hypnotic air. 

Toji only has to angle his head towards the flashing screen on the forgotten phone still dangling limply from your hand, and then his eyes are lighting up with such dangerous delight. “Answer it.”

“Wh-what?” you sputter. “Who is-”

Your coworker. 

“Answer it.”

It’s the slow, sultry push and pull of Toji’s hips that have now got you in such a cockdrunk daze, a soft ah! ah! ah! leaving you with every rhythmic grind. He’s using the handcuffs as leverage to arch his hips off the bed, inching you closer and closer to puff out a feverishly sweet kiss onto your forehead. Whispering gently, “Answer it f’me, doll.”

And no sooner is the soft pad of your shaky thumb swiping across the screen, that tinny voice of your coworkers blaring through the speakers that-

“Hello?”

SNAP!

The handcuffs are hitting the hardwood floors before realization hits you - and in all of three seconds, Toji’s hulking frame is set free. Two rough palms sliding to your hips and just slamming you down the entire length of his throbbing cock. Burying so deep inside your heavenly cunt that you could feel the scratch of his public hair against your clit, Toi’s heavy balls twitching against your ass. And his voice - low and rumbling with need when he’s pulling your whole body weight up, up, up to kiss at his leaky, pink tip. And down. Again. And again and again and-

“Let’s show this fucker how sorry I really am, huh?”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - As long as you want, darling.

“Are you sure, my love?” Nanami whispers in your ear in a low, satiny purr. The hot water from that candlelit bubble bath he’d lit sloshing around just a bit when two large, rugged hands of his come down to massage your shoulders gently. “S’been a long day.”

And, really, it has. A long day of overly picky clients and an even pickier manager - a long day that your lovely husband was slowly crumbling away bit by bit. Chest rumbling behind yours, legs intertwined with yours in the water, thick cock stuffed deep in your cunt. 

You’re slowly nudged back into reality when he’s planting a lazy, heated trail of open-mouthed kisses down your shoulder. “If you want to sit in silence we can do that, too, darling.”

“No, s’okay, Ken.” It’s all you can do to manage out a hazy shake of your head, looking up from where your back was pulled flushed against his hard, sculpted front. Grinding the curve of your ass back to drag against his abs, skin-on-skin. “Want you.”

Fuck, that has him twitching like a man starved inside you. And the stretch, oh - it made your toes curl in depravity, head spinning at just how much your gummy walls were being molded to the exact shape and size of him. Memorizing every little curve and pattern of lewd throbs along your pussy. 

A low rumbling sound in the back of his throat, heavy balls so so ready and squeezing painfully at your obscene words. 

“But- you know if I go rough on you-”

You kiss his sharp jaw, licking languidly along the long column of his milky throat. Drinking in his heady, masculine scent to murmur, “And I want you now.”

And, well, how could Nanami Kento ever deny his pretty lil’ wife?

Which is why, in all of three seconds, the man himself had you reaching across the bathtub on all fours. Knees weak and shaking like a newborn fawn where he held you up easily by your hips, swollen cock still angry and splitting your poor cunt apart from behind. 

“Whatever my love wants-” you hear Nanami breathe out shakily, moving from the first time since he carried you inside the bathroom to reel every long fucking inch of his girthy cock out, out, out from your sloppy hole. And if you angled your head back just right you could catch that messy glisten of your slick down his shaft. All the way until his fat tip was smearing all over your glossy folds. Waiting. Greedy. “-she will get.”

And his words were so sincere - solid, thorough, just like the dizzying thrust he was gifting your poor cunt with. Stretching that first rim of muscle so wide, feeding your pussy every inch he could give. 

“O-oh-” you moan brokenly, your thighs already shaky with the stimulation of having Nanami squeeze his fat shaft down in bullying thrusts just to fit his mean cock inside. “Oh my god, Ken s’already so much-”

“M’not even halfway in.” he’s hushing away your pretty cries with a line of kisses down your arched spine, finally settling to crash his lips against yours. Bare chest rippling with muscle, “You can take it. You’re my good girl, right? Gonna take my cock until you forget all about that hngh- bad day of yours?‘

It’s like clockwork the way you’re nodding so dazedly, not even sure what you even agreed to until Nanami’s pushing in proud, powerful rams of his hips. Tip so hefty, leaking so much precum down your cervix - down the corners of your sopping slit. 

“You’re so big-” you whine, ass stinging with the harsh smacks into his front. Screwing your glassy eyes shut, “S’too much, ngh-”

“Hey hey, now.” your husband tuts against your ear, the damp metal of his ring cold when he swipes softly at your cheek - refusing, for even a moment, to take off that evidence of his pure devotion to you. “Keep those gorgeous eyes of yours open, my love. Just look-.”

Coaxing those cockdrunk eyes of yours open exactly the way he always did, Nanami only smiles when your kiss-bitten lips drop into a shocked oh! 

Because fuck, it didn’t matter how many times you took him - Nanami was always so massive. So unapologetically obvious when he was inside you. Your puffy folds spread shamefully, that bulging divot of his fat head peeking out, showing you in real time exactly how harshly he was crashing against your g-spot. Bruising. Sloppy.

Over and over and-

“Takin’ me so hah- well.” You mewl at the never-ending gush of praises, every lingering thrust of Nanami’s hips increasing in pace. “Wish you could feel- how wet you are.” He’s sliding a palm down your water-slicked skin, cupping the mess made of your cunt. “-how tight. How-” Body convulsing when you feel Nanami’s wedding ring so chilly against the heated part of your clit. Being rubbed into it over and over when he’s rolling the pad of his thumb in slow, sleazy circles. “-perfect. How perfect you are f’me.”

“K-Ken-” you’re whining, and Nanami already knows what you’re about to say - of course, he does. Immediately pinning your two arms behind your back with one of his much bigger ones, holding you upright to fuck into your dripping cunt harsher. More calculated. “M’close- m’close m’so-”

“So cum f’me.” he hisses, letting your fingers dance up to tug and graze his undercut all you pleased. “Cum f’me like a good girl.”

You don’t even realize it when you do - too caught up with every crashing kiss against your bruised g-spot. Every spike of white-hot pleasure when Nanami’s massive cock massages your walls so right. Fucking you over and over through your high. 

Until all you can do is scream out his name, until all you can do is kneel there and take it while he’s absolutely ravaging your cunt - no thoughts of whatever bad day at work on your mind now, only filled with Nanami and the need for more, more, more-

Until you’re turning to hum deviously, “Your turn.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - HOURS

Times like this, Geto Suguru loved to tease you, loved to push the limits and see exactly what would make that pretty lil’ mind of yours tick. 

Times like now - when he had you laying so peacefully on top of him, your lolling head moving gently up and down with his heavy breathing, his legs dangling off the other end of the couch, eyes firmly trained on the shitty action movie playing on-screen.

It would be almost wholesome, if it wasn’t for-

“Sugu…”

Ah, there it was. 

“Yes, gorgeous?” Geto tries to hold back that dark glint in his voice. A smirk curling the edges of his strained words when you clench your clingy walls around him as a sort of punishment, shifting desperately. “Don’t like the movie?”

You’re hissing out through firmly clenched teeth, tugging on his skin-tight shirt to get your beloved boyfriend’s attention - but, alas, it doesn’t work. “The movie’s not the problem-” And lo and behold, you’re fucking your trembly hips back so deep against where he’d buried himself inside you about half an hour ago. Ass shifting on top of his heavy balls, clit throbbing on top of those neat tufts of black, your familiar movements trying to get him to massage his fat, weepy veins against your sweet spots again. “-it’s your fuckin’-”

“Ah ah, language, my girl.” he’s whispering, still not sparing your cockdrunk self a glance. Despite the way his achy head nudges in desperation against the bullseye of your g-spot in a way he knows will have you keening. Leaky divot meeting your bundle of nerves making you go insane after cockwarming him for so long. “S’jus’ getting to the best part.”

Fuck, you didn’t care - didn’t even remember the name of the movie you two were watching at this point. 

But what you did remember was the way this exact scenario played out last time - when Geto decided to really pull out and continue with the movie marathon as if nothing happened. Just the memory has your needy pussy twinging in annoyance, trying even harder to suck him up depravedly. 

And yet, all you can manage out is a few grumbles about “getting him back soon” and forcing your eyes back on the screen. Only gives occasional nudges and grinds down to nestle him cozier against your plush walls.

And you succeed.

That is, almost. 

Until it gets to that erotic scene. A hazy blinking up at Geto told you he already knew this would be in the movie, high cheekbones flushed, watching your every single reaction from the corner of his dark, dewy eyes. 

You’re teetering precariously on top of him when his achy dick twitches even harder in interest. Your slick coming down in hot oozes that soak his entire bottom half. Glistening in the light of the tv and helping you slide your sloppy pussy across his fat length. 

“Suguru…”

Full name? Damn, he was in some trouble.

But, like the absolute bully he is, Geto only lets out a low whistle. A large, soft palm coming down to knead at the fat of your ass, stretching and pulling to help you hump your pussy even deeper. “Some awful actin’, huh?” he grunts, eyes still locked on the movie. Hips stuttering up as if unconsciously - primally, “Bet we could do a whole lot better.”

But, two can play that game.

“We could.” you whine syrupy and pitched higher than normal with lust. “Such a hngh- shame, though, right?” And at his surprised look of confusion, you’re plowing on smugly, “Because you’re on a sex ban for the next month.”

The reaction is immediate - pained eyes snapping onto yours, his pretty pink lips dropping into a shocked oh! and Geto’s spouting out unabashed, “Awww, c’mon, gorgeous don’t be like that. Wasn’t serious, wasn’t—” Panic veiling his actions when you bluff moving to get off. Yet, he plays right into your hands, heavy fingers sitting you back down on his cock to meet in a shallow thrust, molding at your elastic walls. Claiming, “-as if I’d ever deny you, gorgeous.”

And you can’t get another word out before he’s steadily using all those hours at the gym to his advantage to bounce you along his lap in a steady fucking. Slamming right up to where your pussy lips smashed into his hip bone.

“You’re so weak, Sugu–”

Hell, so what if he was the one that broke first? 

Oh, he can’t deny though, the way just how needy you were - how you were pouting up at him with those sultry, beautiful eyes of yours to “just fuck me right” - has him throbbing achingly inside your heavenly walls. Stretching out that gummy channel to its limits, until you could feel every ridge and curve along his massive length. 

“Mhm, m’weak.” Geto rasps, arms tightening around your waist to hover your entire body up. “But- only for you- ngh, only for-” And he’s barely even stuttering his hypnotic cadence before spreading his legs firmer, moving his quick, bullying thrusts enlarging your filthy hole. Geto’s abs burning, thighs straining. “-you n’ this pretty cunt, y’know.” Like a - very overdue - little apology for toying with you so much, one of his deft hands dip down to roll and tweak your puffy clit between two slender fingers. Promising. Faster. Flashing a look in your eyes that told you he was about to make it so you couldn’t walk for a week, at least. “So you better not think of hah- something stupid like a sex ban.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - 13 min.

Choso couldn’t tear his greedy gaze away, couldn’t stop aching for more and more of that delicious stretch of your gummy walls around him. Feeling so lecherous with every beat of silence spent devouring the pretty sight of you. 

The way you were splayed out like such a slut for him on your once-fresh satin sheets, bent into such a mean mating press he didn’t think himself capable of. Laying your boneless body out in that obscene pool of cum and slick, only spreading farther and farther with each twitch of his poor, overstimulated balls. 

“Ch-Cho!” your honeyed, broken gasp him blinking back those big fat tears of sensitivity. And fuck he swears he could feel that lewd slosh of his seed coating against your gummy walls in a sticky sheen. “Cho, why are you- ngh! Getting hard again? It’s only been about ten minutes-”

That has him looking down in surprise, ravaged raw lips falling into a fucked-out oh! at that sight of your puffy folds being spread further and further with the way all the blood in his body was rushing to his achy cock. Bulging. Slobbering down your slit to coat him all glistening and ready to slide in again. 

“One more. Had enough of waitin’ around.” Choso rasps, words slurring out so quiet that you almost think you imagined it. “O-one more time, baby–”

He’s leaving no room for you to answer - for you to even think, to breathe before giving your sopping wet cunt an experimental thrust. Dewy eyes falling half-lidded and dangerous when he watches the way his cum gushes down your thighs in warm dredges at the simple gesture. 

“I thought-” your nails rake down his toned back to leave red, angry lines of pleasure. “I thought you said we were jus’ gonna hah- cockwarm right now, Cho? To make sure it takes?”

And it was true, he wanted to make sure you don’t waste a drop of his seed, to have you painted white with him for as long as he possibly could - well, maybe partially out of your boyfriend’s own perverted desire. But, really, what’s the harm in a little self-indulgence?

“Please! Please I know I know, baby.” he’s pleading. Ignoring the ringing in his ears, the dizziness in his vision to kiss the glossy pout of your candied lips so soothingly - missing, a few times with how utterly wrecked you had him. “But you can hngh- take one more, right? Just one more, f’me? Please?”

One more - he’s whispering out that little manta over and over with each gifting, filthy crash against your g-spot. Fat tip so soaked with all the mess of your juices that it slides a thorough line right across your bruised cervix. That makes you keen, it makes you cry, it makes you just arch your back off the mattress to push you even deeper down Choso’s swollen cock. 

You mewl when he’s licking a long, languid stripe up the sultry teartracks down your cheeks, “Yes, but- but Cho you should rest-”

As if that would stop him - not when every shred of his sanity is dancing away from him to the smooth staccato of his rolling hips. 

Choso hisses when his bruised lips are crashing against yours, entire body jolting because the sheer stimulation after only this long since cumming is driving him insane. Too much. 

You buck your hips wildly when he’s angling his toned pelvis just right to smack that divot on his thick head onto your already-raw sensitive spots. Convulsing uncontrollably to let out a few wispy globs of cum that fill you up from the bottom of your pussy - an orgasm you don’t think Choso even realizes. “F-fuck- did you just-”

The pool grows even wider.

“Yes- no.” he gasps, before immediately reeling his hips back and forth again like a man starved. “Maybe. But one more- just one more, baby. Please.” Your sloppy make out is now tinged with the salty taste of tears - both yours and his. Because with each slow, cautious drag of his cock marking your elastic walls, a fresh wave of sensitivity hits him. “Please- wanna cum. Need to cum. Please please please one more- please.”

He didn’t know who he was begging at this point - you or him. Holding such a vice-like grip on the easy curve of your hips to keep you from running away while he fucks you into the mattress for the nth time tonight. 

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck can feel you in so deep.” you murmur hazily, bringing a hand up to draw an invisible line around the middle of your stomach. “Can feel you right in here-”

“Oh yeah? That so?” he’s smirking uncharacteristically. “Soon ‘nough m’gonna have you hngh filled all the way up until-” He drags a thick, lazy index finger of his right up the sensitive bud of your clit. Up, up, up to wrap a large palm at your throat, “-here.”

And you can’t help but think he looks so pretty - so absolutely wrecked with his dark hair untied, sticking in stray strands to his forehead. Flushed to the absolute roots from the apples of his cheekbones, his droopy eyes. Biceps bulging out attractively when he squeezes around your racing pulse. 

Somehow, you manage to choke out, “Do it then.”

That’s all it takes for your poor, absolutely ruined boyfriend to cum. Cumming and cumming so hard it was like he couldn’t stop - didn’t want to stop. 

Greedy gaze falling shut so sensually when your gummy walls squeeze the soul out of him, drinking up every single rope after rope of his hot seed. Sticky, oozing globs that thin out into nothing but blanks - and he’s still fucking your heavenly cunt through his high. 

Still in the throes of his orgasm when he whispers, “Baby- my baby, are we really sure it took?” Fingers squeezing tighter around your gasping throat, “Maybe we should try one more time.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Honestly? 1 hour 26 min.

“Hngh-” you’re hiccuping, the front of your drenched panties leaving a lewd smear of glossy slick all over Sukuna’s abs. Dragging out his name in such a honeyed, needy whine, “Sukuna—”

With a growl, he’s gripping a fistful of your ass, holding your squirming hips so flush against his toned pelvis that he could feel every minute quiver of your puffy pussy lips. Every new bead of your sweet sweet juices slobbering down his front and onto the sobbing cock stuffed still inside your gripping cunt, “What, woman?”

You’re gifting him with a pouty kiss, the kind he’d never admit makes his painfully tight balls squeeze in depravity, “Don’t hafta be so mean.”

“M’not.” he grumbles, and yet gifts the mound of your cunt with a sharp smack! of his large palm. Soothing over the burning brand, “S’jus’ that someone decided to- hngh-” Muscled pecs rumbling with the memory from just a few hours ago, “-make me miss my morning meeting by being such a slut, hm? Just crying to ‘feel, tha’s enough.’”

That work meeting was long done now, having finished about half an hour ago from what he could spy from that clock across your bedroom. Doesn’t matter, as CEO he could miss all the fucking meetings he wanted - having a softer spot for you than anyone, anything. 

But that didn’t mean he’d stop teasing you - toying with you until you were begging for twice as long as that meeting was supposed to last.

“So, really-” his voice cuts through those needy little grinds of your hips. Mindless, slow - trying not to draw attention to yourself as you rocked yourself slowly up and down Sukuna’s fat hilt. Caught red-handed, it’s all you can do to squeal when he’s digging those long, black nails into your heated skin, holding you so agonizingly still. “-m’jus’ doing exactly what you asked, brat.”

The way you kick and wrangle your legs have him leering even wider, “What? Heh, got a problem with that?”

“Yes!” you’re keening, tightening your legs around his waist until you could feel the balls of your feet digging into the tiny dimples at the back of his spine. “Wan’ed you to ngh- fuck me- not- not-”

His tip is swiping across every inch of your sweet spot, pressing in so hard but doing nothing about it. Teasing you with such feral twitches against your tight channel, “You jus’ wanted me inside you n’ this cockwarming s’all you’re gonna get.” 

“Please?”

This earns you another rough slap on your bulging pussy, the pads of Sukuna’s five fingers branding onto your stretched-out swollen folds. Lingering a bit too long around your neglected clit. Assessing. 

And, suddenly, you know it means that smug façade of his is crumbling bit by bit - right along with his sanity. Gruffing out a ragged, “I said-”

And then you squeeze - oh, you’re clamping down your snug walls in such a way that has Sukuna cutting himself off with a throaty moan. The greedy gaze of his darkened red eyes flying open, head thrown back when his hips traitorously buck into you.

“Fuck- fuck, you little minx.” he spits into the soft kiss you’re planting on his lips. Glaring at you despite the way his weepy tip coats your cunt in an appreciative glossy sheen, “You think you’re sooo fuckin’ slick, huh? You think you hah- won this? M’still not movin’, woman.”

Batting your lashes up so deceivingly innocently, “I have no idea what you mean, Kuna–” 

Shit, the syrupy sweet sound of that sinful nickname sends wracking shudders all down Sukuna’s hulking body. Biting his lower lip to hold back a raspy moan, “Don’t.”

You’re only pressing your bare chest against his even closer, draping yourself all over like a second skin. Blowing a feverish puff of hot air down his steadily reddening ears, “I have no-” Pressing a chaste peck right at his cheek, his forehead. “-idea-” On the edge of his pink locks - exactly where you knew he loved but would never ever tell you. “-what you mean-” Before finishing off with the final blow, to thumb open his angry mouth. Eyeing in amusement at how easily he’s letting his tongue loll out already - pussydrunk and all ready for you to spit a steady glob of saliva once. Twice. Wiping off those intentional splatters at the corner of those pretty pink lips, “-Kuna.”

“You’re gonna fuckin’ regret this.”

As if to prove his point, Sukuna is immediately pulling out - taking only a split second to flip you over to press your back against his broad chest. The bed creaks in protest as he sheaths himself inside your gooey cunt in one, harsh thrust. 

All of it - making sure you swallow every thick inch by fucking inch of that same cock you’ve been begging for all morning. He doesn’t waste a second before spreading his knees to smack those sharp hip bones against yours again. Doesn’t even wait for you to adjust. 

“You’re such a slut when you- hah- beg f’me, y’know that. Don’t know why you bother with that good girl act but-” Slap! For a moment, you wonder whether he smacked you - only to realize it’s the sheer power of his thrusts. Unforgiving, long drags in and out to fill you up in places you didn’t even know existed, bruising your flesh. “-at least I ngh- get to bring out the nasty bitch in you.”

Fucking you so relentles now. Your brain’s too fuzzy to even call him out on his little insult, managing out only choked up, “F-fuck you’re so- s’too good- Kuna.”

Those moans have him drunk, one set of thick fingers reeling you in by your pretty throat. So thankful he chose this position, because now he gets to fully let the ecstasy take over his face. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, face tinted a delicate pink, so fucking hot where he buries his face into the crook of your neck. 

“J-just shut up and take it, brat.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - 2 min. (and 15 seconds!)

“F-fuck-” he breathes out unsteadily. Blue eyes falling shut as he throws his head back in pleasure, and his lips have that freshly-kissed look to them when he’s groaning. “Fuuuck, m’sorry m’sorry. You’re gonna be the hngh- fuckin’ death of me, sweetheart.”

Now, the great Gojo Satoru already had an inkling about this fact by the time you’d caught him rifling through that batch of chocolates you’d been saving up for a week. Brows furrowed, foot tapping in anger. Whoopsies. 

And he already knew it’d be true when you’d shoved him down on the nearby couch and scolded him in that stern, sexy voice of yours that went straight to his aching dick. Toying with your glistening pussy while you straddled his toned lap, telling him to dare not move “or else.”

And fuck, he swear he saw the gates of heaven open up right then and there when you actually took him. 

But shit, now, Gojo didn’t consider himself a weak man - far from it, actually, he was the strongest and he knew it. And yet he’s never felt so utterly fucking helpless with his throbbing cock enveloped deep in your cunt where he couldn’t see, freshly leaky, angry tip hitting down that familiar path to your g-spot. But staying there. 

Unmoving.

So fucking agonizing that even you’re noticing the twitch of Gojo’s fingers on the plush of your hips, the way his jaw is clenching so tight. Raising an amused brow, “Toru?”

“Y-yes?” he yelps, voice a few octaves higher than normal. Jolting - and the movement is enough to cause a slight shift inside your dripping wet pussy. Tremors running down his spine at that sinful little taste of what he’s been craving so badly.

“Toru, you’re already such a mess.” you manage to giggle, purposefully grinding down in smooth gyrations that have his fat head drawing wet circles over and over around your sweet spots. “N’ I just put it in.”

“No!” Gojo’s whining hotly, big fat tears of sheer need pricking at his eyes. “No no no s’been more than long enough-” Gliding two large, pale hands to smooth over the globes of your ass, groping you to shove even more of his angry inches into your swallowing pussy. Ragged breaths coming out in gusts, “-please. Please.”

His words are breaking so sluttily at the end, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down his pale throat when he’s lifting his impatient hips off of the couch - once. Twice. Desperately searching for some friction.

“Satoru, if you can’t handle cockwarming for more than two minutes…”

“Please!” And he looks so pretty begging like this, gasping out wet pleas into your open mouth. “I’ve hah- l-learned my lesson, my girl. Don’t hold out on me now.” Powerful hips stuttering up like he was hesitant on pissing you off any more. “Said m’sorry- see?”

You whirling to look down at where Gojo was lolling his head down in such a pussydrunk way, only to be met with the lewd sight of your snug cunt being split apart by his massive cock. Glossy lips spread, bulging - struggling with the effort to accommodate his girthy, pulsing shaft. The stretch.

The sight is something that makes you squeeze your clingy walls to take the shape of him - so tight that Gojo swears he could feel his breath being cut off. 

He hisses, words coming out so pained. Eyes half-lidded in wonderment at the way that tiny hole of yours gets stretched so obscenely around his thick hilt. “Ohh, fuck yeah. Thought you’d like that- yeah- yeah, just like that.” And you’re barely getting the chance to brace yourself before his hips are bucking up wildly. Like he was out of control - like he didn’t even know what he was doing right now. “S-sorry, said m’sorry. Fuck, m’sorry- sooo fuckin– sorry.”

Every breathy apology is punctuated by a heavy thrust, now fully forgetting that little punishment of his. IMean now. Pushing past that feeble resistance to fuck you all the way till you could feel that upwards curve of his dick branding against your cervix, your lungs. Over and over and- 

“Hngh- ah, Toru!” you’re squealing when he dances a long hand down to rub over your pretty clit. Soft palms wet with a gloss of your slick with each tight circle. Again. And again and again and- “Y-you’re still not forgiven, y’know.”

It wasn’t very convincing - not when your greedy hips are limply bucking down to try and meet his rough cadence. 

“I know.” he grits. “I know I know- fuck, I know.” Spitting straight into your sagging open mouth, he’s swiping at the lewd mess, “N’ I’ll buy ya more- buy ya the hngh- whole fuckin’ ch-chocolate store if you want.” Heavy balls smacking against your ass, pushing in powerful rams of his tip into your g-spot. Rambling drunkenly to himself now, “Just wanna- wanna-”  Tears of sensitivity are streaming down his face now, as wet as the mess he was making of your poor pussy. And it takes only a few anticipated, purposeful thrusts before- “-cum.”

You barely have the time to even register those thick, hot globs f cum being stuffed into the very bottom of your pussy. Filling you up with Gojo’s sin when he’s throwing his head back to moan, hips bucking up, up, up to paint your deep core white. 

“No no no no- no-”  he’s babbling, still shooting up sticky streams of seed inside you. Fingers so erratic on your cunt now,  Back arching up off the cushions to ram into you like some little ragdoll, from the very tip of his goading cock. “You have to cum- need you to cum, sweetheart.”

You’re just milking him, clinging onto him so tight it’s hard to crash his ruddied, sobbing tip even harder into your g-spot. 

It’s almost like he’s forcing it out of you, wrenching out a hazy orgasm where you’re seeing stars behind your eyes. A loud whine of your boyfriend’s name leaving your swollen lips when he’s fucking you through peak after peak-

“Is this a good time to tell ya I ate those leftovers you were savin’ up, too, or do I hafta beg for forgiveness again?”

“...”

A/N. Listen, I know that Sukuna would be a TYRANT CEO but it’s for the aesthetic ok.

Plagiarism not authorized.