#but also i look so fucking fire its RIDICULOUS

[babyboybuckley]

I went to see Waterparks tonight and I looked really hot and Awsten looked really hot and my friends looked really hot and it was just so much FUN

[gregoftom]

what do you mean you don’t think you’re gonna be buried at my side

[irenic-raccoon]

British Yaoi 👍

[monachopism]

being jewish with zero affiliation to israel and rather a generational line of activists for palestine is a hard line to walk and sometimes i wish i could just fall off

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[querenciasturniolo]

chris or matt x fem!reader please !!! i legitimately cannot choose between them for my life so you can choose :) maybe reader’s also like an influencer and they have this secret sort of relationship for a while and its all super fluffy, but fans are already starting to speculate that they’re together and stuff, and then at the end they finally go public with a hard launch and/or live and everyone in the comments ( or chat if it’s a live ) is going FERAL

p.s. also i’ve loved your works for so long you DO NOT UNDERSTAND and i’ve finally gathered up the courage to send in a message even tho it’s sent in with a request !

hard launch ⮕ m.s.

word count: 911

warnings: swearing

summary: request

a/n: STOP YOU’RE SO SWEET 😭 please don’t be scared of me, i promise i don’t bite HAHAHA, ily are you kidding me 🫶🏻😭 also this was so fucking cute, i’m obsessed fr

everything written is completely fictional. the people i write for are written with characteristics and mannerisms that i made for them, this is in no way depicting what would actually happen in real life.

Watching Matt stream always had your heart stuttering in your chest.

The theme for Hogwarts Legacy was playing as he was adjusting his camera, your eyes watching him closely and trying to fight the smile stretching across your face. You were sure the viewers could see you staring, considering you were sitting in the chair directly next to him, on camera. His eyes dropped from the screen as he grabbed his controller.

“Alright guys, so, we’re playing Hogwarts Legacy tonight, but I have a special guest with me, as you all can see.” He turned his head and met your eyes, his own smile growing and his cheeks tingeing pink as he caught you already staring. Introduce yourself, he mouthed. You turned to face the camera, grinning wider than before as your eyes scanned over the chat.

“Hey guys, I’m the guest, obviously. My name is Y/n.” You said.

did anyone else see the way she was staring at matt ? they’re in love, confirmed

she’s so real, i’d be staring too

i can’t even handle this, she’s so cute

“Basically, Y/n’s going to play while I tell her what to do. She’s never held a controller in her life.” Matt teased, his eyes flickering between the screen and the chat as you pressed the button to start the game.

“Wait, I have to create a whole character?” You asked, glancing over at Matt as he placed the headset over your ears. He chuckled and nodded.

“Yes, you have to create a whole character, is that not what you were expecting when you begged me to play this game?” He teased. You rolled your eyes and adjusted the headset, making sure the ear that was on his side was exposed so you could hear him.

“This is ridiculous, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me I had to create an entire chara—oh my God I can have pink hair, I take it back.” You rambled, scrambling through the hair colors. Matt’s laugh next to you had you grinning as your eyes flickered between the screen and the chat.

this banter is only proving my point that they’re in love

i’m so glad she’s streaming with him this is so funny

has anyone else noticed that matt hasn’t looked at the screen once

You glanced over at Matt, meeting his eyes immediately. You couldn’t help but mirror his smile as you shook your head and faced the screen again. You created your character, groaning when you realized you had to go through a thousand cut scenes, even though you were thrilled to be playing this game.

“I never understood why you can’t see those weird horse things until that dude gets eaten by the dragon.” Matt said, catching your attention enough for you to glance at him with wide eyes and a slack jaw. You sighed through your nose and shook your head.

“I forgot, you’re a fake fan.” You said, interrupting him before he could fire back. “They’re thestrals, you can only see them if you’ve witnessed death, but they’re always there.” You explained, Matt furrowing his eyebrows as you faced the screen again.

y/n being a harry potter fan was not on my docket, but i’m not complaining

her humbling matt has got to be the funniest fucking thing i’ve ever seen in my life

i love this

The entire time you were going through the beginning quests, you and Matt had bickered back and forth, your smile wide with each comeback you shot at him. It wasn’t until a knock on Matt’s door that the two of you stopped talking. You paused the game, but Matt scoffed and unpaused it.

“You keep playing.” He demanded playfully, your own scoff leaving your lips as you shook your head and continued. Chris peeked his head into the door.

“Food’s here, just thought you guys should know.” He said, Matt nodding his head. Chris left the room, and Matt turned to you.

“I’ll go get it.” He said, standing from the chair as you turned to face him. Before you could process it, he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours firmly and turned to leave the room. You smiled and shook your head before facing the screen and realizing what just happened.

oh mY GOD I FUCKING KNEW IT

DID ANYONE ELSE SEE THAT ??????

WHAT IS GOING ON MATT JUST KISSED HER ON FUCKING STREAM

You ignored the chat, trying to play it off and completely move past what happened, thinking that Matt did it on instinct. Chats were flying in at such a rapid pace that it felt as though everything on the screen was lagging. It was completely screwing up how you were playing, not only your racing heart and shaking hands on the controller.

You completely short circuited, having no idea what to do as Matt walked back into his room. He was laughing at something Chris had said as he sat down next to you and glanced over at the chat.

“Oh.”

You looked over at him and raised your eyebrows, your skin on fire as you watched his eyes scan over the rapid chats flying in at once.

“Yeah.” You said, Matt finally meeting your eyes with pink cheeks. He smiled and shrugged his shoulders, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to your nose before he sat back and grinned widely.

“I guess that was one hell of a hard launch, huh?”

tags: @strniolo , @ssturniolo , @thetriplets3 , @stvrni0lo , @gabbylovesreading , @dwntwn-strnlo , @tylerscreat0r , @toyourloves , @lvrsparadise , @angelcake-222 , @20nugs , @obsessivencrazy , @lollibumblebee , @stargirlv0id , @jellybeanbby , @idontexistman , @emssturniolo , @soursturniolo , @bernardenjoyer , @mxqdii , @leah-loves-lilies , @mattsnutsack , @champangekisses , @floofparker , @lovelysturniolo

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Help me! I'm hypnotized...

The loser roommate I got stuck with did something to my brain. I didn't think it was possible, but that pathetic fag somehow put me in a trance. I don't remember how: with a pendant or spiral; but it doesn't matter! What matters is that at any second he can say a trigger word, and I end up like this: smiling and flexing like a fucking idiot 'till he releases me.

Sure, I look like I'm alright, but I've been stuck in this pose for two hours. My biceps ache and my shoulders are on fire. Add to that a leg cramp that I cant walk off and you'll realize how awful this torture is.

I'd just been trying to finish an essay (his essay to be exact.) I might be on the football team, but this lazy geek is forcing me to do his homework for him! And even though he ordered me to do that, against my will, he calls me up and says my fucking trigger word! It's fucking ridiculous! I used to go out and party with my teammates on nights like this, but now I'm stuck being this dweeb's mannequin-on-command.

I just know he's going to boss me around when he finally gets here. He'll probably make me cook him dinner again. I'd spit in it if I could -hell, I'd probably poison it if I could- but I know I'll be stuck in my own body again. I hate it when he tells me to smile and serve him like a waiter. God, its humiliating...

He makes me workout during my free time, which I have a lot of now that I can't speak to any of my old buddies. I gotta say that my body's never looked better. I guess their is one upside to being under his control: whenever he tells me to train harder, I have to do it.

The gym is the one area of my life where I can at least pretend that I'm not someone's trained monkey. Still, the fact that I can't even shower without his permission is a pretty harsh reminder. Whenever I get back from a workout, my legs march straight to the table where I sit, flex, and smile while I wait for him to tell me what to do. It doesn't matter how tired or hot I am. Sometimes, he doesn't even let me shower. He just tells me to mop the sweat up with my shirt and then put it back on.

I think the nerd has a thing for sweaty jocks or something. The thought of this creep making me do all this to get his little dick hard pisses me off more than anything...

I applied for a job today. It wasn't because I wanted to. My roommate decided that he wants more spending money, so he turned to me and said that I was going to earn it for him. So it wasn't enough for me to be his personal chef, maid, and eye candy! I have to be his fucking ATM now too?!

The tie wasn't my idea either. He told me to go buy some fancy clothes to make sure I impressed my "future employer." He's such a dweeb, and now he's making me dress like a loser too.

Obviously I nailed the interview. It wasn't hard when he programmed me to say things like "I've always wanted to deliver pizzas," or "I want to be the best employee you've ever had!" He made me sound like such a kiss-ass for a stupid minimum-wage job. Even the guy interviewing me thought I was being a bit excessive! I got hired on the spot, and I'm already scheduled every night this week, because my roommate specifically made me ask for as many hours as possible.

Now that I'm done with probably the most humiliating thing I've ever done, I'm stuck flexing with a tie on 'till that asshole gets home...

I got my first paycheck after a long couple of weeks doing his classwork during the day and delivering pizzas at night. My roommate texted and told me to wait by the front door with my paycheck. Apparently, he's going out tonight with some of his loser friends and wants the cash now. I can't believe I'm about to hand it over to him.

"Hey, handsome," he calls, shutting his car door.

"I'm glad your home, sir. How was your day?"

I do not give a shit about his day! He ordered me to say that whenever he gets back. He's also programmed me to get up and hug him like I'm a fucking queer in love!

"Better now," he purrs, squeezing my butt cheek while we hug, "You should come with me and my friends tonight."

The last thing I want to do is be around him and his pansy-assed friends. "Yes, sir," I smile.

"We're going to a gay bar, and I think you would be an excellent wingman."

My stomach drops at the sound of a gay bar. I don't want to be anywhere near that place, and I really don't want the guy with total control over me parading me around that place like I'm his fucking slut! Where is this going? He wouldn't make me do anything gay, right? The terrifying truth is he could. He could order me to act like a stripper there, or...or worse. Fuck! I don't think there's anything he couldn't make me do. He could order me on my knees right now, and I'd do it with this stupid smile still plastered across my face. He could make me blow his tiny cock, and I'd be helpless to do anything other than enthusiastically suck! I don't want to go to that gay bar. I have to escape.

"Yes, sir," I hear my voice gleefully ring out.

[ironunderstands]

Ngl I despise stupid ass tweets like this

There is a time and a place for talking about sexualization, but like you cannot be serious.

It’s shorts. She’s wearing shorts. I know part of the reason why her thighs are exposed is because people like to look at thighs, but oh my god. For 5 seconds, 5 goddamn seconds can the people in this fandom not treat women’s bodies like they are some inherent sin? ITS SHORTS.

Based off this tweet you would assume she was dressed like THIS or something (although this one has SOME armor LMAOO)

But not just by hoyo standards, but by normal people standards, Feixiao is wearing a regular outfit, especially considering the climate she lives in is probably fairly warm, and she’s not a normal human being, so all that extra armor wouldn’t be doing much for her anyways.

Hell, this is a universe where shit like the antimatter legion exists, and I’m sorry, but a few pieces of metal really aren’t going to do much against the stuff that Feixiao might be facing, and considering how restricting armor can be, a pilot such as herself would prefer lighter clothing. Honestly if we want to have a discussion about practicality or realism, the flowy/longer parts of the outfit should be the ones under fire, but that’s not the complaints here.

And I get where this person is coming from.

I understand wanting to see an armored lady, especially considering her male counterpart seems to possess that, but this is not the way to approach it at all.

But calling it misogyny? AND SOFT PORN?? SHORTS??

SHORTS

Like do you hear yourself? You sound like a puritan right now? Honestly I’d prefer Feixiao having her thighs out over hearing someone talk about them like they only exist for gooners to gawk at.

Moreover, considering the absolute nightmare that was the copy-past female Luofu designs, I’d say that hers is a breath of fresh air

Also, if you supposedly can’t take a woman seriously because her legs are exposed.. get help dude. Please.

I don’t even think it’s ridiculous to believe that her design is sexualized, especially with the garter, but like, why like this?

Oh, and Jingyuan’s design is sexualized as well, it’s just not through exposed skin. He has a whole ass corset and thigh garter and he’s imposing and has a deep voice and glowy ass eyes and long hair and he stares at the camera in his splashart like That and you get where I am going with this because HES MEANT TO HE HOT TOO. He just has a different kind of appeal

For fucks sake his lightcone literally has him lounging in a chair legs spread eyeing a bird sleepily as the light hits him like that and his face looks like that wand you expect me to believe this game isn’t trying to present him as attractive? For fucks sake he practically has an adoptive son. This is the dilf older man fucker final boss and yet a woman with shorts is what sends you spiraling?

Don’t act like you didn’t see the TikTok comments of people wishing they were his bird when he got released. Or the master stroke jokes? Or everyone and their mothers (literally according to Cyyu) drooling over his EN voice? “I AM the reinforcements?”

If you want to talk about non-sexualized generals and pull up a picture of Jingyuan I will (and currently am) laugh in your face because to be honest more revealing clothing would make him less horny because the uniform is part of the appeal.

I rest my case

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

currently eating drywall while reading your Gaz pushup fic. I got an idea, Gaz pinning reader down under him and doing push-ups like that?

this is playing with fire anon.

1,843 / 15 / takes place immediately after doing push-ups with Gaz and distracting Gaz as he's counting reps

...

The next day, Gaz gives no indicator as to how many push-ups he's doing, and you're struggling to keep track. Your focus lies elsewhere--between his broad shoulders and muscular back; the way his t-shirt fits so tightly to his skin.

"You're not counting my reps this time, I take it?" he asks dryly.

You stiffen, in the middle of warmup stretches yourself. "Why, should I? Are you going to get distracted and miscount again?"

"I don't miscount." He pushes up. His biceps look like carved stone under the strain. "I just ignore people who try to get my attention while I'm working."

"Maybe I should lay under you this time so you can't ignore me." You chuckle absently at your own joke without fully registering the implications of what you just said. You also don't notice Gaz falter in his reps for the first time ever.

He buckles down onto one elbow. "I'm... sorry? Come again?"

Your brain catches up with your mouth just as you're trying to twist your left knee up and over your right hip. "Wait, I didn't mean like that. Or I did, but not in the way that, like, just with your chest-- wait, fuck--"

Still mid-stretch, his hand closes around your ankle.

"No, really, come again."

He pulls, dragging you under him, and you find yourself on your back, the workout mat stinging against the skin there. He hovers over you, his hands and knees caging you in.

"Lay under me?" he says. "Because that's what it sounds like that's what you're saying. Is that what you want? To be under me?"

You blink up at him. This shouldn't feel as intimate as it does. Gaz is your workout buddy. You've been closer to him. Regularly.

It's the eye contact, isn't it? He looks hungry. Your gym buddy shouldn't be looking like he wants to devour you. He leans in closer, his eyes roving over you in a way you've never seen him do before. Obviously Gaz is an attractive guy--ridiculously so. But you've never seen him look at you like this. Your whole body is tingling with awareness.

You know you can put an end to this right now with a single comment. The fact that you don't want to is what makes his closeness feel new. If he were to lean down and kiss you right here on the gym mat, you would welcome it.

As if he can hear your thoughts, Gaz shifts again, leaning further over you. "I said, is that what you want?"

Your mouth is dry. Your tongue darts out go wet your lips and his eyes snap down to watch.

Your self-control wavers.

"Yeah," you tell him shortly. "Maybe I do."

Gaz's jaw sets. His body is tensing like a coiled spring. He is desperate to touch you. "Maybe isn't good enough," he grits out. His hand slides up from your hip to your waist, slipping under your shirt. "I want to hear yes."

nsfw ⬇

Your vision fogs a bit as his fingers graze the skin under your breasts. When he dragged you under him, you realize, the friction of the floor against your clothes rolled them up. Now your shorts and top are riding very high on your frame. He sees the way you're trembling, your hips writhing subtly under his touch. You're so exposed. It's so wrong. But he's enjoying the hell out of the view.

His hand disappears and he drops to his elbows, his hard body pressing up against yours. Your breath hitches. He chuckles. His mouth strays to your ear. 

"Easy," he breathes. "I'm not asking to have my way with you right here on the floor. I'm just asking for permission to touch you a little, yeah?"

Your heart clenches in your chest, catching oddly. "Oh, right. Y-Yeah."

"Sorry, are you disappointed?" His hand drifts back up your body, going straight to the elastic band of your sports bra. "Did you want me to take you right here? In this very public gym?"

You squirm as his thumb begins to work its way under the elastic. Your hands go to his chest, a rush of endorphins surging through you at the slight give of his form pectoral muscles under your fingers.

"I didn't say that," you tell him, voice still wavering more than you want it to. "Don't put words in my mouth."

"Oh, no, I'm just thinking out loud. You really need to watch your phrasing, boss. You're gonna make me think you're not as innocent as you like to act." His thumb rubs in slow circles over your soft skin as he speaks. "I’m just thinking about how cute you are when you're all flustered. And how pretty your eyes are. And how you’re not denying it.”

"You're the one who-- ah--" Your retort dies on your lips as his hand slips under your bra. His fingers run over your nipple, the rough texture of his callouses against the many nerve endings there making you jump.

He lets out a low groan of satisfaction when you respond so quickly to his touch. His forehead falls to your collarbone, trying to focus on you, on the sounds you're making. You're igniting his whole body. He squeezes your breast roughly, unable to help himself. He squeezes again when you squeak and he realizes just how much you like this, too. He tenses more and more with every breathless little jump and squeal.

You're barely aware of your own reactions. All you register is his hand on you and the heat in your face spreading down your neck and racing to your core.

His knee slides between your legs. It tears a ragged gasp from your throat. That only seems to encourage him, and he presses his body down harder over yours.

"You're so sensitive," he breathes out.

He grinds his knee up into you even more shamelessly, and you fist a handful of his tank top. "Wait," you protest. "Someone could walk in."

"So?" He growls, his voice suddenly rough. "Let them walk in and see. I'm not going to pretend I'm doing anything other than what you want--" His breath gets heavier as he shifts again, his knee easing back. Fuck, you're right. Someone is going to walk in any second. It's incredible nobody has already. This would be a compromising position to be found in, to put it very lightly. He's a senior officer over you. It looks bad for him to be over you.

Gaz forces his hand to still and pulls it out from under your shirt, swallowing. He sits up, dragging his gaze slowly down your body before he finally locks eyes with you again. Your clothes are in disarray; your chest is heaving; you're looking at him with such a debauched look in your eye he has to clench his hands into fists to keep them off you. Jesus. He's only touched one nipple and you already look like he's been fucking you. How are you real?

He grabs your hand and pulls you to your feet as he stands. "Come on, up."

"Where are we going?" you ask as he walks across the floor with your hand still in his grip. "Why did you stop?"

"We're going somewhere private." His grip stays firm as he drags you out through the front entrance. "And I stopped," he adds, "because you're going to get me in trouble if I keep going where we were."

"Wait." You tug his hand back as he pulls you past the entrance to the women's locker room and showers. "In here."

Gaz almost trips as your grip pulls him back.

"What?" His voice is an exasperated whisper.

But at your persistence, he lets you tow him over to the women's locker showers.

"What?" he repeats, this time quieter as he opens the door. "Are you--?"

But you step in after him, shutting the door behind you. Gaz's eyebrows go up.

"I guess you are."

"A lot less foot traffic in here. Enough time for a little hands-on training, right?" you say, pulling him further into the room. You start up one of the shower heads near the door, hoping the noise will cover up what you want to do. Then you strip your tank top and bra off in one swift motion, grabbing the hem of his shirt immediately after.

Gaz's throat goes dry at the sight of your exposed chest. He drinks in your body, his eyes roaming slowly and possessively. "Jesus, your body is-- fuck."

He grabs your hips and pushes you against the wash-tile in the nearest stall. You gasp at the cold of the tile on your naked back.

He runs his hands up your waist, groping your tits unabashedly. "We're way past hands-on training, love. That's your fault."

"My fault?"

"Yeah. Yours." Gaz's voice is rough with arousal. He hefts you up, grunting in satisfaction when your legs fasten around his waist. "You started this. You're the one who suggested laying under me. You didn’t have to say that. Did you think I was going to say no?"

You give him what is--somehow, even as you're naked from the waist up with your legs around him--a shy glance. "I didn't think you'd say yes."

His hands move up your legs, massaging your thighs then moving to your hips again. The way your body grips him, the way your legs squeeze him tightly to you--he's loving every goddamn inch of you.

"What do you expect a starving man to do when he's presented with a three-course meal right on the table?"

You scoff. "You are not starving."

"I'm starving for you," he grits out. "Don't be obtuse. God damn. You have no idea how often I’ve thought about getting my hands on you.” He rubs his fingers along the sensitive skin just over your waistband. “You have no idea just how much I’ve wanted to--”

He slides his hands up your body again, his fingertips tracing smooth undersides of your breasts. Even now he's holding back and his restraint is obvious. He could have you right now, pinned to the wall.

"I wanna devour you, you hear me? Every inch."

Your stomach flutters as his palms reach your ass and squeeze. You can't believe Gaz of all people wants you like this. "Is this gonna mess up our relationship as gym partners?"

"Probably. Definitely." He bites your earlobe the same place he bit it yesterday. This time, he laves his tongue against it. His breath is labored in your ear. "If you don't want that to happen. I need you to tell me." He rolls his hips against yours, groaning at the feeling of your heat through your thin workout shorts. "Right... right now."

"Is... is it wrong that I kinda want you to ruin it for the rest of time?"

"Good." He shifts one hand to run his fingers over the crux of your thighs from behind, making your back arch. "Because I'm going to destroy it beyond all reason."

...

part 1 / part 2 / [part 3] / part 4 / part 5

more Gaz / masterlist tag

[guiltyasdave]

glitch

pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

word count: ~1k

summary: Prequel to nights are so starry, blood moonlit. How you and Javi became neighbors with benefits.

warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), smoking, alcohol consumption, able-bodied reader, a hint of dom!Javi, unprotected p in v, kinda rough sex, ass slaps, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), Javi is a menace, a hint of angst and feelings because of who i am as a person

a/n: written for @iamasaddie’s writing challenge 2.0 with the prompt "never knew you were such a freak", and since my first story about these two was also part of one of aly's writing challenges, it just made sense to revisit them :)

dividers as always by @saradika-graphics <3

find my full masterlist here and follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates!

It had started out with fleeting glances in the hallway, quick greetings when your apartment doors opened at the same time, then short conversations on your adjoining balconies, late night talks with your feet propped up on the railing and his back leaning against it, sometimes exchanging a cigarette or a light, or occasionally a bottle of beer when one of you had run out. 

Of course you noticed the ridiculously tight jeans that really shouldn't look that good on him, the way his broad shoulders strained against his clothes, and the way his shirts always revealed a little too much of his golden-skinned chest. You couldn't deny the fact that your neighbor was incredibly attractive, and that he knew it. 

You probably should have said no when late one evening, after Javi had found you on your balcony, smoking and watching the glistening city lights, he invited you to share a glass of bourbon. Together. At his place. 

He had been flirting with you, which you suspected he did with every woman he met, and you had tried not to pay it any mind, but you were well aware of how this evening would end if you accepted. 

You should have said no, and a stronger, less lonely version of you might have, but you craved human contact, craved to be touched by someone else than yourself, and if the sounds that traveled through the thin walls from his bedroom to yours frequently enough were any indication, Javi knew what he was doing. 

You should have said no, because it became clear to you very quickly that Javier Peña would ruin you for all other men.

He was more gentle, more caring than you had expected him to be and he prioritized your pleasure in a way that you had never experienced from any man before. He took you to heights that you hadn’t thought possible before, and it was addicting.

You should have said no, but you hadn’t, and now you keep coming back for more. 

You keep coming back for the way his skin tastes under your tongue, for the way his lips press against yours, swallowing moans and whimpers, for the way his fingers and his cock reach so deep inside of you that you still feel him hours later, when you have said your good nights and crawled under the covers of your own bed. Never his, never crossing the line to a different kind of intimacy.

It’s another one of those nights, a soft knock on a door, a mutual understanding passing between you, gentle touches that burned under your skin until they got more demanding, until you both gave in to that pull that kept you coming back. 

He’s already made you come on his tongue twice, until you were dripping onto his sheets, his name the only word in your mind and on your lips. You’re on your hands and knees, limbs shaking, trying to accommodate his length and the harsh rhythm that he’s setting. 

“Taking me so fucking well,” he pants, running his hands down your back and over your ass. You chase his touch, goosebumps forming in its wake, your moans filling the air as he keeps hitting impossibly deep inside of you. 

His palm connects with your skin, nothing more than a playful swat, but the sensation sears through you, lighting your nerve endings on fire as you all but scream your pleasure into the softly lit bedroom.

“Oh?” His voice is low, rough in his throat. You don’t need to turn your head and look behind you to know that he’s smirking down at you right now. “You liked that, huh?” 

You nod eagerly, too far gone to be ashamed of the way your hips are bucking back against him, working desperately to feel him deeper inside of you. 

He slaps you again, harder this time, and you feel yourself clenching around him, feel the way a new wave of slick is coating his cock. His fingers dig into your shoulder and he pulls you up, until your torso is pressed against his, his mouth moving against the delicate skin of your neck. 

“Never knew you were such a freak, baby,” he whispers, his lips curling into a grin, teeth nipping at you.

“Shut up.” You try to hold your voice steady, ignore the throbbing need between your thighs, but he just chuckles and presses another kiss against the side of your throat before he loosens his hold and pushes you back towards the mattress. 

His hands grab your hips instead, pulling you into his thrusts, filling you so deeply that you see stars behind your eyelids.

“You want me to do it again?” You hate how smug he sounds, would love to deny him the satisfaction, but god, you do want him to. 

“Fuck– please, Javi.” You’re breathless, reduced to a mess of trembling thighs and desperate whimpers, and you wish that you could stay like this forever. 

He slaps your ass twice in quick succession and deepens his thrusts at the same time, punching all air from your lungs. His hand snakes down to graze your clit and you’re overwhelmed with sensations, pure pleasure coursing through your veins so suddenly that it’s almost disorienting. You collapse onto the sheets, your pussy pulsing around him as your body shakes through its third orgasm of the night and you’re whimpering his name as he buries himself deep inside of you and comes with a groan, painting your insides with his release. 

After more kisses, more touches, and a shared cigarette, you get dressed and eventually, his apartment door clicks shut behind you. You lean your back against the wall, closing your eyes and breathing deeply for a moment before you enter your own place.

Again, you know that you’ll be coming back for more. And that no matter how many times you come back, it will never be enough.

thank you for reading 🤍 if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending an ask, it truly makes my day every single time!

[wandagcre]

What do you think abt Sam (non g!p) has the first time with her gf and she cums first (and gets very embarrassed afterwards, cuz she didn't even need to be touched for that!)

first time | sam carpenter 🔞

(Sam Carpenter x Fem!Reader)

Sam never understood the clichés of firsts, until you – the only one that mattered.

WARNING: make out session, fingering, first time - set in Scream universe | 18+ men & minors dni. Words: 1.1k Note: the softest smut i have written yet ahh enjoy! <3

"Fuck," Sam gasped, breathless as you were. "You feel- it's blowing my mind..." she tilts her head and slips in her tongue.

A small smile escaped your lips, knowing how the woman couldn't compose her words properly at your intense make out sessions as this. you let her in, finding her eagerness adorable. The soft rubs of your thumb on her nape only reeled Sam further to your touch. She takes off your top and the hunger in her motion made you arch your neck.

You slow down a little and Sam is tad confused but it doesn't stop her. Her own lips chased yours as you pull away and it didn't faze Sam, who continued caressing her hands onto your bare torso.

You and Sam had barely left one another enough for your lips to become numbed with the well-known dance that has been going on for minutes now. Her eyelids fluttering as she's wrapped in a dazed sensation – the rustling of your limbs against each other and touching and seeing you – has left the entirety of Sam scorching hot.

"Baby, baby," you moan in muted tone. The pit of fire in Sam’s stomach continues to burn, although she finally looks at you in concern.

"Are you okay? we can stop anytime,"

The tenderness is palpable on her doe eyes. You can't resist but run a finger softly on those hooded eyelids.

"Funny how i was going to ask you the same thing. You beat me to it," you say with a crooked smile. Your hands loosely wrapped around her waist and somehow, Sam’s body reacted too enthusiastically, and it made her hips buck onto your front. "Someone's excited."

"I can't help it, you know that too well, querida..."

"And I can definitely attest to that." An inevitable grin breaks out of Sam’s pretty face. It's so easy with you. "I’m all in, baby."

"I am, too. all in. I love you," Sam murmured as if she was in a daydream, stroking your cheek.

Sam drinks the appearance that beholds her. Your skin so soft and delectable, that she failed to keep her hands off you. The creases in your face with your gentle smile. Your soul that welcomed her without a hint of prejudice; paired with your eyes that relayed nothing but acceptance and love.

How Sam got lucky with you is lost on her.

Sam pulled you in once again, the softness gritting into a deplore of conviction; wanting to express how much you mean to her – cheesily enough, you are her world now.

Unfortunately, it also meant she had grown ridiculously damp. a stretch of her lower limb would make it seep much worse. She feels the electric coursing through her veins, prickling soundly onto her sensitive areas. She feels bare and vulnerable in all forms, you didn't even have to touch her that much for her to come undone.

It was mind blowing how Sam haven't thirsted this much to her previous partners before. Even with your limbs intertwined and skins grazing upon another, it simply wasn't enough. Sam is constantly chasing for more.

"I want to have you first," you breathed softly on Sam’s ears to her surprise, making her temperature rise even more. "Please, let go for me, Sammy. I promise to take care of you."

You look at her with glossy eyes, filled with devotion. How can Sam ever say no to you?

She nods with no reluctance to your glee. Oh god, this is happening. Sam feels your fingertips along her abdomen, touch so incandescent, that it made her muscles contract, as it makes its way further down to your goal.

When the heel of your palm laid on her lower stomach, fingers stretching in to go underneath her underwear, Sam felt herself vividly ooze a palpable amount of wetness that made her heave out of breath – thigh muscles spasming that she can barely move.

She rasped a moan as she laid her forehead on your shoulder.

"Are you okay, Sammy?" your eyes went wide in concern.

She weakly laughed. "Yeah, yes. Shit i think– this is unreal. I just came. I surely just felt it," she retracts her hold around you to cover her face in embarrassment. "Now I feel ridiculous. that- that wasn't supposed to happen,"

You looked at Sam bewildered at the news she had dropped.

"Baby, no, no. look at me," you shook her by the shoulder gently and cradled her face. "That's nothing to be shy of. If anything, I’m happy to make something as sex not only pleasurable by means of aggressive throes of lust, but comfortably mind-blowing to you."

It took a while for your words to sink in for Sam. She bit her lip, nodding in agreement. Sam looks at you straight in the eye. All she saw was comfort. Safety. Love. All of which resounded strongly when it comes to you. Slowly, the feel of embarrassment ebb out of her system.

This wasn’t a quick fuck, nor a casual thing. You weren’t cheeky and condescending as the other men she had encountered.

Sam felt like she mattered for once – as though she wasn’t a meat or a conquest.

The thought wasn’t lost on you as Sam looked at you in wonder and it breaks your heart. You decide to grasp her hand and place gentle kisses on her knuckles. The same hands that have gone through unimaginable violence, yet it’s gentle and slightly trembling in your hold.

"Thank you, mi querida."

The kissing resumed as your fingers also continued making its way to the depths of Sam’s crevice. The pad of your fingers that she ushered for you to rub harder had sent her on the edge. The soft gasps of excitement and pleasure, Sam couldn't take it.

Every touch had her entirety reeling, as though you had her absolved all her sins. Nothing else mattered.

"Listen to me, you're doing great. You look... beautiful."

Albeit it came rarely, Sam was somewhat desensitized to praises. But yours were raw and innocent. Sam feels her heart thumping louder than ever.

"Always a charmer,"

From there, she cants her pelvis closer to you, rocking her hips to the newfound rhythm – riding your fingers. All Sam can think about was your name. She met your thrusts and each time, you never failed to give her praise. I love you, I love you, I love you -- you confess, akin to worshipping a deity. The open mouthed kisses on her sternum and chest that you spread all over her, has made Sam's head spin. You simply understood how vulnerable and hard it was for the woman to let go. Sam swore she felt heaven – it made her surrender all her strength completely under your touch. She has never known a safer place as yours.

Wet enough she was, and this time both of you couldn't hold back your smiles, complemented by neediness, as you make love for the first time.

do not repost/translate on other sites. © wandagcre

[vampire-matcha]

Part 4 of cheating!Soap. Simon's POV. Angst. Potentially ooc Simon.

---

Simon Riley is a bad man. He wasn't given much of a choice really. He was dealt a bad hand that kept getting worse and worse. He tried to live a good life, despite his childhood, but it was all taken away from him in fire and blood. So he threw himself into it headfirst. He dove into it and found comfort in the fire and blood. He knew fire and blood. He's good at fire and blood.

Simon Riley is a lonely man. All his life, he's never had anyone. He keeps everyone he meets at arms-length at a minimum. He doesn't do love. He doesn't believe in it. The last time he tasted it was from his mother, and that taste has long since been replaced by the tinny taste of blood. He's comfortable being alone. He fills his time with work, and on the rare occasion he's sent back home to his barren flat in Manchester, the most he does is find a quick fuck at a pub.

He doesn't care about their names, he doesn't particularly care if they're a man or woman or something in between. He doesn't care what they look like, he hardly looks at them at all. They're just a means to an end for him. Just a warm hole to stuff himself into to feel good for a bit, to make his head quiet for a bit. He leaves once he's done. He never stays the night, never even stays much longer than to tie off his condom and pull his trousers back up.

It all changed when he met that damned spitfire of a man John MacTavish. Goes by the name 'Soap'. A ridiculous nickname in Simon's opinion, but then again, he goes by Ghost, so he doesn't have much room to talk.

Soap is loud and brash, but he can be careful and focused, too. He's intensely loyal and has a deep sense of justice. He fights for what's right, Ghost has seen it. He makes the icy shell around Ghost's heart melt, ever so slightly.

It's a slow progression, the way Soap draws Ghost into his orbit. Ghost doesn't even fully realize its happened until Las Almas. There was a moment when he thought he lost Johnny- when did Soap become Johnny? They had gotten separated and Ghost waited for him. Ghost never waited. But he couldn't, in that moment, hiding out in a church with a whole militia after him, even fathom leaving Johnny behind.

By the time Simon realized he loved Johnny it was too late. Johnny was married. Simon hadn't noticed that when he read Soap's dossier years ago. It must have happened in the time they had known each other. Simon had never pinned Johnny as someone to keep his cards so close to his chest like that, but he was proved wrong.

Johnny didn't wear his ring in the field. It was a liability, not just to have jewelry on in life-or-death situations, but also for anyone to see he was married, be it friend or foe. He didn't find out until after Chicago. It seemed that Soap's near-death experience at the top of a skyscraper had shaken him more than he'd let on. He'd snuck off at the bar to use the payphone and Ghost had followed.

"Hey, its me... Just needed to hear your voice, bonnie... No, no, I'm alright, just a wee bit banged up... Yeah, I miss you too, lovie... No I promise I'm alright. Just got a bit worried the whole 'til death do us part' thing was comin' sooner than expected... Sorry, bonnie... No, no, you're right, it's not funny. I'm sorry... I'll be home in a few days... Yeah... I'll see you then. I love you."

Simon hated you. He hated you and he didn't even know you. He didn't even know you existed and he hated you. Who were you? Some civilian? Some random woman who decided to shack up with Johnny? Probably just chasing valor or benefits or something. What could you possibly have to offer someone like Johnny? You could never understand him the way Simon does. Their bond is forged in fire and blood. You could never hope to understand it. They'd been through hell together. And yet you've wormed your way in between them. You, a woman he doesn't even know, have ruined everything. But Simon, ever the stoic sentinel, keeps it all under wraps with practiced patience. He didn't survive this long by letting his emotions control him. He'll figure out a way to fix this.

Then several months later, Simon meets you. It's after another mission, and you're picking up Soap from base, who had gotten a mild concussion and couldn't drive himself. You're there, waiting for him with a lovesick smile on your face. Simon watches as you embrace Johnny, wrapping him in your arms and holding him for a long time. Too long, in Simon's opinion. And then you pull back and hold Soap's head in your hands, turning his face side to side to get a better look at him. You laugh at something he says. Simon sneers. Oh, aren't you just perfect? A sweet little doting wife?

And then Johnny brings you over to introduce you two. You shake Simon's hand with both of yours, gratitude broadcast to the world as you thank him for getting your Johnny home safe. Your Johnny. Simon hates it. He hates how sincere you are. He wishes you were something worse, something worth hating. But Ghost reads people. He's great at it. But he can't read anything but genuine in you. And it makes him hate you more.

It isn't fair, Simon thinks. You don't deserve someone like Johnny. You haven't earned him. You haven't fought for him like Simon has. You haven't fought alongside him like Simon has. Simon has suffered. His whole life has been nothing but blood and fire. Doesn't he deserve something good for once? Hasn't he earned it? Even the devil himself got to taste heaven before he fell to earth.

That's what he tells himself on that night. The night they were stuck in that frozen safe house in the middle of Bumfuck, Russia. They'd narrowly escaped the enemy, and they didn't dare poke their heads out for risk of being spotted. Soap's radio had broken in the escape. Ghost was the only one with a means to communicate with Watcher. She tells him exfil will be there in the morning. He unplugs his radio. He tells Soap he can't get through. He tells himself that he's justified. He's a devil seeking a taste of heaven.

And what is Johnny if not heaven? Simon needs him. He needs to taste him. Johnny is worried. Simon can feel it rolling off him in waves. Simon can make it all better for him. Just for tonight.

"Who knows when exfil's gonna get here?" He asks. "What do we have to lose? It's just for tonight. Just let me take care of you, Johnny."

Simon can feel the hesitation in Johnny's body when he kisses him. But Johnny let's Simon lay him down. Simon whispers words into Johnny's ear. Not quite words of reassurance. But Simon Riley is a bad man, and a lonely man, and those two things make a nasty combination.

Simon tastes every part of Johnny's body he can get his mouth on. Neither man has bathed in days, and a lesser man would be disgusted, but Simon has experienced far worse. Besides, nothing about Johnny could ever disgust him.

And when Johnny let's him inside, Simon, that devil, finally tastes his slice of heaven. A whole life of suffering was worth is just to feel Johnny beneath him. It's perfect, he thinks. Even if only for the night. Simon looks Johnny in the eye. Simon stays with him afterward. Simon sleeps beside him.

Then morning comes. Exfil comes. Regret comes for Johnny, but not for Simon. Maybe he shouldn't had lied about his radio, but it was worth it, wasn't it? But now Johnny won't look at him. He won't speak to him. He practically runs from him when they land.

No, no, no. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. This was supposed to fix things! It was supposed to fix what you had ruined! You, Soap's perfect wife with your perfect life, perfectly ruining Simon's. Johnny was supposed to see that he needed Simon more. Johnny was supposed to see that he needed Simon as much as Simon needed him. What happened? What went wrong? Simon blames you. He always blames you.

Simon calls Johnny late that night, after he's sure you must be in bed. He pleads with Johnny to come to his senses. It wasn't a mistake! How could he say that? How could he say that it was wrong when Simon had never felt so right in his whole life? It's your fault. You've got Johnny trapped under some kind of spell. You can't love him like Simon could, like Simon does. Simon changes tactics.

"You have to tell her," Simon tells him. Maybe if you know, you'll leave. Then Simon can have Johnny all to himself, without you getting in the way again. "The guilt will eat you up, it's better if you just tell her. Its the right thing to do." Johnny reluctantly agrees.

Simon waits for Johnny to call him the next night, to tell him you've kicked him out. He waits for the call so he can swoop in and be Johnny's rescuer. Maybe then Johnny will see how much he loves him. But Johnny never calls. Simon would be tearing his hair out with anxiety if it wasn't so close-cropped to his head. What's happened to him? He hasn't lost control of his emotions like this in years. What have you done to him?

Simon drives to Johnny's house. He watches from the curb through your window. Johnny's alone. Good. He has half a mind to walk up to the door when he sees you come around the corner. He watches you two talk. He watches you cry. Crocodile tears, they must be! Poor you, having your perfect life be derailed. Simon was justified. It's only fair that you suffer even a fraction that he has so he can take some of your perfect life for his own.

But then Johnny is holding you. Johnny is kissing you. No, no this isn't right! You should be screaming at him to leave! You should be beating Soap to a pulp so Simon can put him back together! Why won't you let him have this?

He watches Johnny carry you away. He forces himself to drive away before he does something he'll regret. He speeds the whole way home. He turns his apartment upside-down. In the back of his mind he's thankful he lives in a shit part of town where no one calls the cops unless someone is actually dead. No noise complaints as he shatters every mirror.

It's your fault he's losing control. You you would just let him have Johnny, it would all be fine. But you, you selfish bitch, want to keep Johnny all to yourself. Why? Because you've got a ring? Because you made a vow? Well, Simon makes a vow to himself. No matter how long it takes, he will make Johnny his.

[utilitycaster]

Do you think any of the other items the party has rn (ie Ashton’s hammer, Imogen’s robe) could become more relics of the red solstice? If yes, which god do you think would bless them? Vox Machina probably not, they’ve got all their vestiges already, but do you think the Mighty Nein could earn any?

I don't think this will be much of a focus, to be honest; Matt just poked fun at his Campaign 1 fetch quests. I especially don't think it will be a significant focus of the Mighty Nein as I think they and Vox Machina will only be viewpoint characters for their specific missions; a couple episodes at most. And, to be honest, one of my favorite things about the Mighty Nein is that they were never terribly focused on magic items to the ridiculous (affectionate) extent Vox Machina were. No shade to Vax but I think a lot of people did not realize that without two vestiges and an overpowered homebrew item and a bending of the rules re: smiting on thrown items, he's just a guy with 30 feet of movement who can attack twice with a dagger in melee and pump in a second level smite once he gets to the high levels.

I think it is possible with Bells Hells, but I suspect it will only really be those who sought out any kind of relationship with a god, even if it's relatively last minute. I'd love to see an exploration of Braius since I really don't think Asmodeus is fueling those paladin levels, but otherwise, Imogen and Ashton are currently the only ones with plans, so the gods in question are the Stormlord and the Arch Heart. It would be a nice touch, personally, if the Changebringer showed up and perhaps imbued the fragments of FCG with something minor, but I'd also be happy if the only relic we have is Seedling simply because again, Orym's the only one who's really been pursuing this consistently.

Just for a quick elaboration, I think one thing with the Vestiges that Matt realized is firstly, if he gives the party a list of everything, they will try to catch 'em all, which led to some episodes in C1 that, frankly, didn't have much connection to the characters and their goals (specifically the Fire Plane stuff; also while its retrieval was great, Scanlan used Mythcarver like, twice, and once was to do a two gnomes in a trenchcoat situation); and that you can end up with some really fucked party balance. I remember in Campaign 2 when people felt like everyone should get a Vestige again once it became apparent the Star Razor was one, but Fjord was a sword-focused character who put immense work into a relationship with a god; some classes and characters are just not item-based in the same way. To make D&D balanced, sometimes some characters get more toys; and also, following specific narrative paths is rewarded by the GM because it involves player dedication or risk or is just really fun and cool.*

I will also note that while time is short, not all the Vestiges of Divergence were tied to a deity. One could get a relic created by mortals; I don't, for example, know what Dancer and Imahara Joe are up to.

*at the risk of taking a pretty straightforward post and turning into an avenue of discourse, this is yet another reason why the "Raven Queen/Wildmother relationships with Vax and Orym are abusive" arguments feel in such profoundly bad faith and, quite frankly, taste, that they're hard to even engage with. It's such a deeply bleak and cynical worldview out of game to say "yeah, I think the GM is looking at an interesting player choice and is punishing them for it," even more so with a player like Liam, a person who is not precious with his characters and does not see tragedy or death in the service of a cause at the close of the story as narrative failure.

[ninikrumbs]

Sweets or my sweet?

Bucky x Reader

Summary: You were baking cupcakes but Bucky has other ideas with the batter.

Warnings: Bucky barnes (he is a warning), Fluff, slight nsfw, implied smut. 18+

Comment if I should write a part 2 😏 (iykyk) Also this in unedited so im sorry for the mistakes.

"Okay, this looks right!" I beamed, as I finally turned off the mixer. The smell of chocolate wafted throught the air after our baking session.

Spontaneously deciding to bake chocolate cupcakes were suprisingly a good idea.

Strong arms wrapped around my waist, one warm and one cold. While a strong chin rested on my shoulder, his light stubble brushing my cheek; making me giggle.

"Smells good, doll." Bucky commended, his deep, husky voice tickled my ear earning a light shiver from me.

I grabbed the spatula and leaned it towards his mouth. "Here, have a taste."

"Won't t that make me sick?"

I arched an eyebrow before saying, "I thought super soldiers dont get sick?"

"Touché."

He leaned in towards the spatula and took a small lick of the the batter. His throat bobbed as he swallwed it. "Wow, that is good."

His compliment made me grin in delight."I know right!"

I was about to start putting them into cupcake holders, before I noticed a small fleck of chocolate batter on the lower left side of Bucky's lips. Cometpalting to leave it there for others to see, but deciding againts it since he was such a good sous pastry chef today.

Turning in his arms to face him, "Buck, theres a bit of chocolate on you lips." I said, touching to my own lips, trying to show him where it was.

"Really, where?" I thought he was gonna use his hands to remove it, but he suddenly just started darting out his toungue in a silly effort to remove it.

"Is it gone?"

"No.." I said, covering my mouth with my hand, stifling a laugh.

He looked so ridiculous, his tongue has licked every side other than the place that actually has the stain. You'd think he was doing it on purpose. "Okay, stop stoop! I got it."

His lips formed into an adorable pout before leaning his face closer to me, warm breath hitting my face. I quickly glanced at him to see that he was watching me like a hawk. And it made such a simple mundane thing feel more intimate which made me purse my lips as my cheeks felt a bit warm.

Since the chocolate was already a little dry, I licked my thumb before gently swiping on his lower lip, effortlessly removing the chocolate. "There! that was-"

Before I could wipe my thumb somewhere, Bucky held my thumb in place with his metal hand as he sucked on it. I could feel his tongue going over my skin and it felt like my entire body was on fire. I inhaled a sharp breath, not sure whether to pull hand away or let him lick some other places that were currently callimg out his name.

He let out a satisfied groan, the sound echoing through my body. "If tasted good before, now its a fucking 5 star michelin restaurant."

His mouth lets go of my thumb with a pop as his steel blue eyes gazed at me with such a predatory gleam, it should make me feel terrified, instead it makes me rub my thighs together. Already feeling the wetness pool between them.

Strongs hands carresed up and down my waist to the curve of my hips, til it gave my ass a light squeeze that made me squeal.

He continued carresing my ass before he dipped his 2 fingers, one from each hand into my covered core, making me clutch on tightly to his biceps.

"I see my favorite meal is already ready for me." He whispered huskily into my ear.

"Bucky.. not here." I whimpered

A smug smile formed om Buckys face at my reaction. He grabbed the bowl of cupcake batter behind me and pulled me by the hand as he says, "Now lets go eat dessert with my favorite meal."

PART 2??

[kinardsevan]

HC? Or something crossed my mind idk, Tommy volunteer as a big brother/or just to help in a group home, and have a special bond with one of the kids there since he sees himself in him..

because I messed up the responses, this is @thatmexisaurusrex's request for Buck & Tommy calling eachother on a slow afternoon at work.

This is m-rated, nearing explicit, towards the end. Nothing too graphic, but definitely suggestive. also, since we're just existing in previous universes of mine today, this one fits in the same world as the prompt for "bobby overhears Tommy call him his father-in-law".

-

Evan sighs, sinking down onto the ground on top of the firehouse. It’s beautiful outside, but the team is still on shift for roughly eight hours, and the shift has been…slow. They’ve only seen three calls so far, which feels a little ridiculous considering it’s a nice day outside, which usually means cookouts, bonfires, and generally reckless behavior when it comes to fire. 

Three. Fucking. Calls. 

He spins his phone on his knee briefly. He tries not to call Tommy too much on shift. They already live together and work in the same field. Granted, Tommy has never once complained about it in the past three years, and he always seems rather cheerful when Evan does call him on shift. But still. 

Any decision Evan thinks he has to make is quickly silenced when the phone starts buzzing in his hand, with the bolded text of “Husband” framed by two blue hearts pops up on his screen. A smile crawls its way across his face as he flips the phone into an upright position and clicks the little green phone icon, accepting the call. 

“Oh thank Jesus,” Tommy mutters with a groan. “I’m so bored.” 

Evan laughs. “Yeah. Me too.” 

“Are you guys doing any better over there?” Tommy whines. “I’ve been on two flights today, and they were both done within an hour.” 

Evan chuckles again. “Three calls so far. Last one was about four hours ago. Cap says everything coming in right now has been east of Pasedena or down in Panorama City. Too far out for us unless it goes three-alarm or higher.” 

Tommy huffs, leaning back wherever he is. Evan assumes he must be in 1701 because it looks like he’s on the floor of a chopper. 

“I have deep cleaned everything in sight, inventoried the helicopters and both planes, even helped with some of the inventory on the trucks,” Tommy says. “Checked up on current registrations and certifications. There’s not a damn thing to do.” 

Evan can only smile at his husband as the older man complains. For all the times they’ve complained to one another over Facetime while on shift, Tommy has never been one to actually complain about being at work with nothing to do. 

Tommy huffs, but after a moment, his eyes are on the screen of his phone again, and he furrows his brow. “Why do you look so entertained at my misery?” 

Evan smirks at him. “I like seeing you flustered. It’s kinda hot, honestly.” 

Tommy gives him that look; the one that silently tells him to tread carefully, unless he wants to find himself pressed into a mattress or countertop sobbing for release. 

“Hey, so what was that story Charlie was telling at the wedding,” Evan asks, referencing back to their discussion over cigars a few weeks back. 

“No, Evan,” Tommy replies, and the tone is there now too. Evan’s lips twitch with unfettered cunning, knowing he’s pushing Tommy’s buttons. 

“Oh come on,” Evan states, clearly egging him on. “Didn’t I hear something about a screwdriver down?” 

Tommy’s jaw clenches and he just shakes his head, although there’s no hiding the way the corners of his mouth are twitching, desperately trying to give in to the smile that he’s trying not to give his husband. 

“You know we’re going into a four day after this,” Tommy reminds him, narrowing his eyes at the screen. “You might want to tread carefully.” 

Evan raises an eyebrow at him, grinning lasciviously back at Tommy. “I think you assume that I didn’t consider that already.” 

Tommy stares at him from the tiny screen, and even though nothing about his expression changes, there’s a multitude of unspoken words shared between them. The smoldering in his eyes that tells Evan about nights pressed back-to-chest, nails drug across his chest and Tommy grinding with fervor, drawing sinful noises out of Evan like it’s his job. The slight twitch of his eyebrows suggests afternoons lost to ‘don’t move an inch or we’ll start all over’ . The way his tongue slips between his lips to wet them calling up memories of being chest-to-chest, teeth biting necks and shoulders, nails dug into spines, tongues lapping into mouths that swallow sobs like water in a desert. 

“If you’re not careful, you’re going to turn yourself up to eleven for the next four days,” Tommy warns, and the smirk on Evan’s face entirely suggests that he does not care. Turned up to eleven is the implication of total control turned over to his husband in the bedroom, whereas one is them meeting on an even field, usually when they want to take it slow and eject romance into things. 

But Evan just did that for a week and a half in Havana. He’s more than happy to turn things up to eleven. Let Tommy work him over. 

“Please, Daddy,” he replies softly, pulling the phone close to his face so that Tommy hears him but no one else does. His tone is just this side of breathy, barely moaning. Still, Tommy’s neck flushes, and Evan knows he has him. 

“When do you get off again,” Tommy asks, switching the subject. Evan pulls the screen down on his phone and then back up. 

“Like seven and a half hours,” he replies. 

Tommy nods. He’s up and moving again, and after a moment, Evan hears a door close, and the smirk reappears on his face. Tommy’s finding privacy. 

Evan pushes himself up from the ground, walking further from the door for rooftop access. It’s unlikely that anyone is coming up to bug him, given that Eddie was taking a nap last he checked and Hen and Chimney were locked into an intense game of Mario Kart. Athena was around for a visit, keeping Bobby entertained. 

Tommy’s phone rests on some kind of countertop and Evan grins as he sinks down into a chair. 

“So when you get home,” Tommy states, pulling at the zipper on his flight suit. He’s doing it slowly, and Evan can tell it’s on purpose. He gulps down the wave of saliva flooding his mouth. 

“Yeah,” he rasps.

Tommy reaches a hand in, pulling up the t-shirt he has on under the flight suit, although his hand stops halfway up his chest, only giving Evan the slightest sight of his abs where the zipper ends. Tommy leans forward then, pinning both hands on either side of the phone, out of frame. 

“You’re going to be a good boy,” Tommy states. It’s an order. Evan gulps, feeling himself starting to get uncomfortable in his pants. The slightest shift of his shoulder has Tommy lifting a hand, wagging a finger at him. 

“Ah ah ah,” he chastises. “No touching. Clock starts now and ends on Sunday.” 

Evan’s eyes go wide. They’ve never started something this early, let alone gone that long. Three days is about as long as he’s handed over control to Tommy, and even then, it usually begins and ends in their bedroom. This is a new layer, and he’s hot under the collar just thinking about the implications. 

Tommy stares at him for a long moment, that extends long enough that Evan realizes he’s supposed to respond. If he has any reservations against the ideas, now would be the time to say something. Granted, Tommy would never be upset with him if he decides to safeword out early, but he’s also silently asking if it’s okay to start now. 

“Okay,” Evan rasps, clenching his hand into a fist and resting it on his knee. It’s all he can do not to moan because he swears just by saying yes he gets harder. Tommy waggles an eyebrow at him, pulling his t-shirt. He adjusts it and fiddles it the zipper, clearly trying to play with Evan the same way the younger man was just playing with him. 

“I’ll be home an hour later,” Tommy reminds him. Evan nods. “I expect to find you silenced and waiting.” 

The slightest moan passes Evan’s lips. Tommy wants him gagged and on his knees, hands behind his back. 

“Sh-…C-can I prep?” Evan stammers, his voice husky with wanton. 

It’s Tommy’s turn to smirk now as he shakes his head slowly. 

“The only way mi amor gets to prepare is if it happens naturally. Everything else will be taken care of when I get home.” 

Evan shudders, and the heat in Tommy’s gaze, the grin on his face, is almost enough to make him feel like his heart is going to give out. He's not allowed to do anything to himself, but if he's aroused, Tommy expects it to happen without any assistance of his hands.

“Fuck,” he mutters softly. Tommy grins at him, and then a moment later, someone is knocking on the door of whatever room he’s in. Evan can hear Lucy’s voice briefly, asking questions but not clearly enough that he can make everything out. A moment later, Tommy glances back at the phone. 

“I have to go. I’ll see you at home in a while.” 

Evan nods, forcing himself to take deep breaths. “See you at home.” 

The call ends a moment later, and he has to stay in the chair and keep breathing. There’s no way he can go back inside right now; he’d be roasted for his unmistakeable boner. 

He checks the time on his phone again, and it’s all he can do to stifle a groan. Eight hours. Eight hours until he’s with Tommy in person again. He can hold on until then. He has to.

Eight. Long. Hours. 

[ladyelissarose]

“Kiss it.”

“What?”

“I said kiss it.”

Ghost scrunched his face up at the sound of your whining to the point of almost crying, he then looked down at your extended hand and saw the large, deep cut on your hand. Crimson colored blood trickled down from the top of your hand to your palm, your fingers were also covered in it as well, as it had spread everywhere quickly. That had appeared there after you got your hands through shards of glass from a broken window to reach a device Ghost needed on the other side. He said he could reach it, but you stubbornly didn’t want to see him in pain, (though he told you he had seen worse) but that didn’t mean you wanted him to experience it again. So before he could move to do such you stuck your hand inside. Meaning it was technically your fault for not letting Ghost reach through it with his tactical-gloved hand. As usual, Ghost was just going to scoff it off and walk away,  that’s who he was most of the time anyways. As a Ghost, he was soulless, emotionless and couldn’t give a damn about your carelessness and the consequences of it. But that was until he heard your small sniff, causing him to hold his breath and look at your face. He never heard that sound come out of your lips because of him, it was always either, ‘Yes Sir’- ‘Copy LT’ - ‘Got Your Back’- oh and your famous one, ‘Mind over matter, I don’t mind and you don’t matter’. You were tough and a badass, cussed like a sailor and laughed at the sad parts in films. (And enjoyed telling dark jokes to Soap) So his heart just about busted or slipped a beat, as he confusingly beheld your rosy cheeks, pouty lips, and large crocodile tears beginning to grow in your eyes. Something he’s never seen before.

 ‘oh fuck.’

Slowly your hand began to retract back but it was stopped by a firm grasp to your wrist, keeping it in place. Slowly with fear of pain or rejection your eyes carefully searched Ghost’s, to only find him sending you a small but sweet smile. Your breath hitch at the realization of seeing the bottom half of his face, to which you’ve never seen. An old scar laid across his chapped lips, he had a light stubble, barely covering what looked like old burned scars along his jawline. It was beautiful though, like when a tree stands through fire and still looks uniquely beautiful, with its missing branches, you know, the scars and all.

 “Ehem.”

‘Shit I didn’t mean to stare!’

Ghost caught your staring and you turned beet red at the realization of acting totally ridiculous in his sights, causing you to plead,

“oh sorry-“

*kiss*

‘oh.’

*kissssssssss*

And there Ghost- no Simon, held his lips, lingering the kiss, as if he had magical powers to heal the wound and make it all go away, and deep down, you believed he could. It felt like a heavenly eternity, feeling the warmth of his lips pressed against your hand, knowing when he took and let out every breath as it made the small hairs on your hand stand, and sending an electric spark up your spine. 

*pop!*

*peck*

Simon hummed with satisfaction as he glanced at your hand one last time before looking for your eyes to seek approval. He took what was your look of adoration as maybe you being displeased, he was quick to stutter.

“will- do you.. do you think it’ll heal? I’m sorry-“

Your hand landed over your heart as you cried sympathetically,

“Oh Simon, I’m sure it will. Feels better actually-“

“really?”

“really- oh! My cut left you a mess-“

His hand grabbed yours as you had reached out to use your thumb to swipe off the blood your cut had left on his once, clean lips, but he refused. 

“Leave it... the time blood is ever on my hands- or on me anywhere is when I’ve shed it for my j-job. Let me have this one time to say I’m painted red because I can kiss every drop to make it better. p-please.”

‘Awe goodness..’

“Si.”

Your words came out like a whisper, something light that could be carried away by the wind, but Simon grasped it like it was air, and took it in as he begged,

“can I kiss it again?”

You nodded confidently and witnessed his eyes gleam with relief as you voiced,

“Please... until we’re both healed.”

His brown orbs looked down at you as he very well towered over you, but he didn’t look scary or intimidating, as his eyes held love and faith within as he thought about your words with your hand against his lips once again, one hand was holding your hip tightly. He did this to ground his mind to let him know it was all real. He then opened his lips and promised with hope for the both of you, regardless of how the past betrayed you two, with old scars to prove it... or what fate was like in the future, what and where would new wounds appear...

“We’ll heal.”