#if steven had a beard

[lockley-spktr]

Somehow, this is Steven Grant coded.

[screwpinecaprice]

Oh oof I slipped and hit them with dark and serious beam. 😣

[guywhowatches]

An Office Interview (Part 1)

You felt nervous heading into the building, unsure of what your new job even was. You still didn't even know if you wanted to work here as you weren't that familiar with business of any kind. You'd just seen that they were hiring on the website, and that it didn't require any kind of University degree or even background knowledge of the company. Although, you did find that a little strange. Nevertheless, you desperately needed the job and the money, whatever it was, as nowhere else had been willing to hire you.

As you entered the large main hall, you noticed a man leaning against the desk facing away from you. He was wearing a black fancy suit, matching your own that you wore to make the best impression you could. However, what really drew your attention was his large bubble butt, held up tightly by his suit pants. It was so big and thick that it looked as though it would rip his suit in two at any moment.

As you were fixated by this, the man turned around and saw you staring at him. He then smiled and walked over to you.

"Ahh, you must be the new recruit, correct? I'm Mr Richards." He stuck out his hand for you to shake. You didn't respond instantly, as you were too busy fixated on the rest of his looks. He was a few inches taller than you, with slick brown hair, a small stubbly beard and other features about him that left you almost dazed. However, you quickly recovered and shook his hand.

"Yes, sir, it's a pleasure to be here and I hope I'll be satisfactory to your needs." You felt so scared looking at him up close. He had quite the commanding and tough look about him.

"Hmm, well I'll be the judge of that. Follow me upstairs please." And he turned around, again pointing his large ass at you and walked off. You quickly trailed after him, trying to look anywhere else apart from his butt, which wasn't easy to do with how distracting it was. You even noticed it bouncing a little with each step he took.

The next few minutes dragged by with Mr Stevens showing you round a few different areas, like the canteen and a few offices. Once this was over, you began to climb a flight of stairs.

"And just up here, you'll see with have the- Oh, hold on." He stopped mid-sentence, before leaning against the handrail, almost squinting his eyes. You were a little confused as to what was happening before a loud noise filled the area.

PRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAPPPPTT

You jumped in shock, and looked at Mr Richards in alarm. Had he seriously just farted like that, in front of you, with no hesitation? How and why would he do that? You wanted to ask about this, but then the stink of his wind crept into your nostrils and it was pretty bad to say the least. There was an eggy tang to it that caused you to gag a little.

"Ahh, that's better. The cafeteria food's always messing with my stomach. Now then, shall we continue?" He stood back up formally, with a smile. What, how could he just carry on like nothing had happened? You were about to complain, but he headed up the stairs as you were still recovering from the stench. Maybe this was a test to prove your strength? You decided to let it slip for now, as you still wanted to get the job.

If that was a test however, then these next few minutes felt like an endless exam. Now, with every room he showed you, he would let loose a billowing fart from his enormous backside. Each one just as smelly, if not worse, than the previous one.

"Here you'll find the break room, where we relax and let off some steam." RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPTTT

"Here are the main offices, but you don't need to worry about it. It's just all hot air." FRAAAAAAAAARP FFRRRRRTT

"Here's the meeting room, where we discuss important things such as gas prices, among other things." PPRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAPPPP

As this carried on, the stink became more and more unbearable. You really wanted to complain now, as you felt like you would pass out from the smell. Yet you couldn't for 2 reason. One being that every time you opened your mouth, you swore you could almost taste it, leaving you unable to speak properly from your gagging. And the other being, you just wanted to get the job, as you were so desperate for payment. Hopefully, if you did get the job, you would be put in an office as far away from Mr Richards and his enormous flatulent backside as you could.

Although, with each time he would rip one in front of you, you couldn't help but notice that he had a small smirk on his face, with each time you refrained from coughing on his stink. Was he enjoying this, or were you imagining it?

Finally, you came up to a door, that had a symbol of it. You could tell that it was a toilet door. You weren't sure why he was showing you this though.

"And here we have the toilet cubicle. You'll find at least 4 of these on each floor." As he finished talking, you braced yourself for if he would fart again, but thankfully it didn't seem to happen this time. You were hoping that you would be able to move on when suddenly you heard a flushing noise from behind the toilet door. A few seconds later, a man walked out. He was around the same height as Mr Richards, except with more messy black hair.

As the door swung open, you instantly recoiled from the smell that protruded out the room. It was quite obvious what had occurred in there and it reeked to high heaven. You desperately tried to waft away the stench.

"Ah, hello Richards, you alright?" Said the man, smiling at Mr Richards, as he straightened his suit pants.

"I'm all good, thanks Steven. Just showing the new guy around, seeing if he's up for the job." Richards responded, both of them ignoring your suffering. Steven looked down at you and smiled, with an almost mean look.

"I see, well don't go too hard on him. We may all need him later." What on earth did that mean? You weren't sure if you liked the sound of it.

"Don't worry, he's doing alright so far, and I'll make sure he's fine enough for now." Mr Richards responded causing Steven to chuckle.

"Alright then Richards, I'll see you later." He then turned to look at you. "I look forward to having you around. Oh and kid... I'd give that a few hours before going there, if I were you." He said, grinning and pointing to the toilet door. "Maybe even a day or so, with a nose like yours." He then walked away, chuckling. Why would he say something like that?

FRAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPTTT

You then suddenly jumped in the air, and looked behind you, only to be met with Steven's ass a few inches away from your face. He'd stuck his backside out a bit, in attempt to give it some more force. Because of the distance, it meant that the smell hit you instantly, and it was almost as bad as the ones Mr Richards had been letting out, but now with a combined smell of crap.

"Hah, post-dump farts, am I right? See you later." Steven said, before laughing and walking away. As you were still retching on this ungodly stink, Mr Richards looked at you.

"He's quite the character isn't he. Now come on, I have one last place to show you." And, acting like nothing had happened, he headed off again.

For a second, you really thought about leaving now. What kind of place was this that had them all acting like this, it was truly disgusting. However, maybe you were just misjudging and it only happened to be just these 2 that were this vile. Maybe you could talk to the boss and ask them to keep you away from these 2. It looked to be your only hope. So, you carried on. You tried to stay beside Mr Richards instead of being downwind of him.

----------------------------------

Eventually, you came to a big door that you assume led into the bosses office. Once outside, Mr Richards turned around to look at you.

"Now, I'm going to go in and chat with the others inside and then we'll call you in for the interview, understand?" You nodded slowly, still feeling very cautious. You also didn't like how he'd be one of the people interviewing you, but hopefully he wouldn't pass gas in front of them, right?

"Very good. Oh, wait a second." He then proceeded to grunt again, much to your dismay.

PRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAARPPPPPPPPPPP

"Phewy." He said, smiling. "My ass sure is chatty today. Maybe he should be giving you the interview instead of me." You stared in disbelief at him, as he turned around and knocked on the door. How could he make jokes about something so horrible? Was your suffering on his rancid fumes just one big joke to him. You quickly covered you nose, with his ass now pointing at you again. Perhaps this job wasn't worth it after all.

Just then, the door opened, and you could see 2 other men you didn't recognise sitting behind a desk. They were both big and beefy, and their suits looked almost too tight for them.

"Hey Richards, you got the newbie with you?" Said the one on the right.

"Sure have Brain." Said Mr Richards, smugly standing aside, revealing you to them. You tried to stand up straight, looking as formal as possible, though it was a little hard to do, with Richards lingering stink still fumigating your nostrils. Also, you couldn't help but feel like the stink had gotten worse, when the door opened, but perhaps you were imagining it.

"Ooh, he's a cutie, can't wait to start working with him." You could've sworn you heard the one on the left say. Did he say that, or was your mind just messed up from the smell. You couldn't be sure.

"Yeah, he's been pretty obedient so far. I need to talk with you both for a sec." Mr Richards then turned back to me. "You wait out here, and I'll come and collect in a few minutes." He looked so tough and commanding, that you didn't dare feel like talking back to him. As he turned around to grab the door, he looked back at you at squinted his face.

FFFFFFFRAAAAAAARRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPTTTTTT

You felt like you were nearly blown off you feet from the sheer force of the blast that shot out his bubble butt. You managed to steady yourself, but it still caught you off guard. The smell that followed didn't make it any better.

"Oops, must've slipped out." He said, closing the door, leaving you gagging and coughing. From behind the door, you swore you could hear them laughing.

Just what kind of job and business was this?

------------------------------------------------------

To be continued (maybe, probably, idk?)

[ramp-it-up]

Peach, Part III

Part II | Part IV

Summary: Steven Grant Rogers is Bucky Barnes' best friend and business parter in crime. He has decided to get out of the life with Bucky because it's the right thing to do. And now he is in love. With you. A woman he lied to about a myriad of things. Now he just needs to convince you to forgive him. And spend the rest of your life with him.

Pairing: Art Dealer/Philanthopist (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Reader (Peach)

A/N: I love these two and there is so much to say. More parts to come.This fic is connected to the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down AU, and AFTER the events in the Bucky Barnes fic You've Got me Thinking. I'm so done for with Steve and Peach. The next part will be published next week! ☺️

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT. Read at your own risk. Angsty angst! Steve is called ‘Steve’ and ‘Grant’ at the beginning, because lies. Mutual pining, attempted masturbation, wild thoughts, threats with a knife, talk of a gun, dirty talk, voice kink, praise kink, did I say ANGST? Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-------

As soon as Steve and Bucky stepped into the house in Hilton Head, Frumoasă’s family welcomed them warmly. Steve felt something that he hadn’t felt in a long while as he watched Bucky and his girl reunite. It had only been a few days, but the emotion between them was palpable.

Steve was happy for his friend, that after years of playing around he finally found his one. His mind drifted to a certain someone in Georgia as his eyes scanned the room for the family’s reaction to this reunion.

When his eyes lighted on you, Steve did a double take, thinking that he was hallucinating.

There you were, beautiful as ever, staring at him like a deer in the headlights, your rapid breathing making your chest rise and fall under the form fitting dress you were wearing.

Steve’s heartbeat was out of control as his eyes traced your form, down to those sexy high heeled boots, and then back up again to that face, those lips, those eyes! 

You looked as if you had seen a ghost. After a few seconds, recognition filled them as you looked from Bucky and Frumoasa and then back to Steve.

Steve knew the moment you understood what he had done. He saw your eyes flash at him, almost felt your body tense and could only watch your flight into the kitchen. 

Against his normally strong sense of self preservation, he went after you.

—-

The instant your eyes met Grant Stevens' ocean blue gaze, you lost all focus. You flushed and became physically affected by his proximity. You watched in silence as he stepped into the room behind the attractive dark haired man that your cousin flew to embrace and closed the door behind him.

You were confused as to why he was here with this other man and what was going on.

As your family’s chatter increased, you realized that this must be Bucky Barnes, whom you’d heard so much about from your cousin. You were impressed that he came after her; you knew how bull headed she was. 

Almost as much as you were.

Then it hit you.

The man with him was not Grant Stevens, ordinary bartender, this was Steve Rogers, multi millionaire mobster and Bucky Barnes’ best friend. 

Your eyes took in the scene and then met Grant’s (no Steve’s) again and you shook yourself from your daze. The man you knew in Atlanta was the same, but different. 

His hair was different, cut quite a bit shorter, but still floofy on top, and he still had a beard, but it was tamed. He carried himself a little differently as well, as if he could buy and sell this entire house and everyone in it but didn’t want to, an air of confidence and expectation, directed toward you.

These subtle differences hit you right in the pussy, because damn, he looked good, he smelled good, and that big dick energy was enormous.

But then you realized how he’d lied to you and rage, disbelief, and betrayal flooded your body. You tried to regulate after realizing that your jaw was clenched and your hands were balled into fists.

Rather than deck this man in front of your family and draw attention to this fucked up situation, you retreated into the kitchen, hoping that Steve would have the good sense not to follow you. 

You went to the sink and gazed out of the window to the beach, attempting to be soothed by the vision of the tide retreating and returning until you heard the door open and close behind you.

Without turning around, you shook your head to clear it from the haze his rich, woodsy scent cast over you. 

And also to warn Steve Rogers.

“DO NOT come near me.”

—--

Steve’s heart was beating a mile a minute and he was sweating as he pursued you, but he couldn’t help himself. This thing between you and him was undeniable. 

At least to him.

And so he came around the sizable kitchen island to talk to you despite your warning.

His mouth was dry when he attempted to speak, but he had to try.

“Peach… I—“

You turned around, a Japanese steel carving knife in your hand.

Steve felt his eyes widen and he put his hands up and backed away until the counter behind him stopped his retreat. He knew he could easily take the knife from you and calm you down, but now was not the time for force. 

It was time to grovel.

“Peach, please…”

You advanced upon him, tip of the knife pointed at Steve’s throat. Your pulse quickened as you got nearer to him, only because you were going to kill him, you thought. 

Not because he was so damn fine. No.

Not because your nipples were tight and your pussy was pounding as you remembered his hands on you, inside you, and his hard body against you as his mouth invaded yours. 

You were so caught up that you could only stare at him as you threatened his life. 

You searched Steve’s handsome face for the hint of a smirk, which, to his credit, wasn’t there. Steve looked earnest, like a little boy even, so your eyes moved away from his face and down to the impossible broadness of his shoulders in the fine brown suede jacket over brown cashmere sweater, to his tailored brown slacks, skipping over the bulge there down to his big feet in brown suede boots.

The tone on tone was attractive and the hint of the chain of his St. Stephen’s medal, the same one he wore in Atlanta, was about to make you go feral.

This man affected you in the worst ways. 

How could you want to murder him, fuck him, and also just bury yourself in his chest? 

“Who the fuck are you?”

Steve dropped his head and stared down at the knife at his neck when you spoke

He deserved every cut you wanted to give him. 

“I’m so, so sorry, Peach.”

He looked back up at you and you gasped, the knife dropping a little. At the same time, while holding your gaze, Steve slowly moved his hands toward yours, which was trembling slightly now. You nodded a little as he reached for the knife and he took it gently out of your hand.

He moved toward you and you backed up as he reached beside you to put the knife down, rendering it available if you wanted to hurt him again.

You were impressed. 

But you didn’t trust him one bit.

“Back the fuck up, Grant. Or Steven. Or whatever the fuck you are calling yourself today.”

Steve created space and leaned against the opposite counter, looking more comfortable than your angry heart agreed with.

“I deserve your anger, Peach. But I can explain.”

At that, you straightened up and picked up the knife again.

“I’m not angry, Steven. I have no feelings for you whatsoever.”

Steve’s mouth fell open. He wasn’t expecting that. 

“If I ever felt anything for anyone, it may have been Grant Stevens, but he doesn’t exist.”

You examined the knife, but didn’t point it at him this time.

“Since he doesn’t exist, neither do my feelings or any chance I allow you to get close to me ever again.”

Your multicolored eyes stared into Steve’s and he shivered. 

“Now, this is obviously a big deal for my cousin out there, and for your friend. I’m not going to spoil this for her. But you.”

You indicated Steve with the knife.

“You, stay the fuck away from me. Pretend I don’t exist and I,” You smiled a little.

“Well, I don’t have to do that, do I?  Because not only did you lie to me, you ghosted me.”

Steve felt like the most despicable man on earth. 

“So, you’re dead to me, Grant Stevens.”

You moved around the island to go back to the dining room with the knife in your hand.

“There’s another entrance to the dining room through the hallway by the bathrooms. Use it. I do not want to be associated with lying sacks of shit.”

You straightened your spine and Steve couldn’t help but watch your beautiful body leave him in the dust.

It was then that he knew he was in love.

—--

At dinner Steve watched everything unfold with consternation, but also amusement and curiosity. Bucky and his girl were about to crawl under the table and fuck, even though her parents were grilling him, but his friend had it under control.

Steve wanted to know what you thought of all this and when he looked at you, he thought he caught you checking for him a couple of times, but you always seemed to be looking at something else. 

You were clearly still pissed at him. 

Which gave him hope.

Because regardless of what you said about being dead to you, there was still some strong emotions swirling around in that head of yours.

Which meant you were thinking about him. 

He had to get you alone to talk. But he didn’t know how.

When your aunt suggested he and Bucky stay over, he silently thanked the stars above.

Now he was getting somewhere.

—--

When your Aunt Karen opened her home to criminals and liars, you almost drove back to Atlanta. You sat there and stewed as this handsome asshole smirked across the table at you.

You should have used the knife.

This was going to be the longest four days of your life.

When Bucky and Steve left to retrieve their belongings from the hotel, you looked over to see your cousin staring at you. You thought she was too caught up in Bucky to notice anything.

You were wrong. She continued staring at you as she called out to her mother.

“Ma, Peach and I are going for a walk on the beach to work off dinner, we’ll be back soon.”

As soon as you were out of earshot, the interrogation began.

“What the fuck is up, bitch?”

You told her the entire story.

—-

“You gonna tell me what is going on now?”

Steve looked over at Bucky as they drove to the Surf Song Inn to get their luggage. He would be the only one to understand what he was going through.

“Remember when you said I didn’t really “get it” when you were talking about speeding up the timeline?

Bucky nodded, intrigued.

“Well, I do now. And the story starts in Atlanta….”

By the time Steve was done, Bucky’s mouth was hanging open.

“I noticed that she’s a looker; definitely related to my Frumoasa.”

They chuckled and Steve shook his head at his friend.

“Now that I know what’s going on, with the extension of the Atlanta deal, and the foundation outlay… You’ve got it fucking bad.”

Bucky laughed at his friend.

Steve groaned.

“Stop busting my balls, Buck. I need help.”

Bucky shook his head.

“I don’t know man. My girl and I certainly went through something like this, but she knew my real name, for fuck’s sake. And I never left her hanging to run off into the night forever. I want to fucking punch you for that shit.”

Bucky was serious. 

“I know. I’m such an idiot. But I panicked. I think I knew I was in love but I’d fucked up. In the back of my mind I was always going to go back once we got clean and tell her the truth but…”

“Fate won out?”

“Yeah.”

There was silence in the car as the sounds of the ocean surrounded them.

“She threatened to slit my throat when she saw me today. She had the carving knife in her hand.”

Bucky grinned at his friend who was gazing dreamily out of the window.

“I knew I liked her. My kind of girl. She’s perfect for you.”

“Punk. But how do I get her to realize that?”

“Persistence my friend. Persistence. And cunning.”

—--

By the time Steve and Bucky had returned, there was a plan, but almost as soon as he stepped into the house, your cousin grabbed him up. He followed her into the kitchen, afraid of another knife attack.

“Just what the fuck do you think you are doing, Steven Grant Rogers? You trying to run game on my cousin? We don’t play that, I will fuck you up!”

This time it wasn’t a knife, but your cousin’s finger pointed at him

“I love her.”

She froze, mouth open and finger in mid air.

“Well. Damn.”

She straightened up and leaned on the counter as Bucky came in.

“May I join the party?”

His girl glared at him and he put his hands up as he walked up on her and took her in his arms.

“I promise, I didn’t know a thing about it. I’ve been a little distracted lately.

He kissed her and her ire was gone. Steve wished it were that easy for him.

“So you’re in love but you fucked her over, and she wants nothing to do with you. Cool.”

Your cousin wasn’t scowling at him, but she wasn’t smiling either.

“Yeah, I’m fucked. But i’ve got a plan.”

Steve and Bucky looked at each other and grinned. Your cousin looked from one to the other. Then they told her the plan.

“Oh hell. My poor cousin. But you forgot one important thing…”

—--

The rest of the night was spent playing board games, watching football, and outrageous flirting between Bucky and your cousin. 

Oh, and you avoiding Steve Rogers at all costs. 

If he came into a room, you exited, if you heard his voice in another, you scowled. He was ruining your holiday. You were stressed beyond belief. But you had something for that.

You knew that your cousin was planning on meeting Bucky in the basement and being a freak, so that’s when you and your handy dandy little bullet vibrator would meet up.

You needed to relieve the tension Steve being in the house had placed on your pussy. You were afraid you would fold and fuck him.

All you needed was to cum and you could think straight.

When your cousin snuck out of the room, she thought you were asleep, but you were just hiding and waiting for her to leave. Just when you pulled the bullet from under your pillow, your door opened and your light came on. You sat up in bed when you saw it was Steve, prepared to cuss him out.

He quickly shut the door and leaned against it, a vision with his big, bare feet, plaid pajama pants and size smedium henley.

It was still a crime how good this man looked. 

And how much he affected you.

Steve saw you without makeup, that delectable mouth in a sexy O, and those eyes wide and got hard instantly. 

He was so ruined.

You watched Steve watching you and then watched him reach up and rub the back of his neck and damn, did his bicep look good as he unconsciously flexed. 

“I need to explain, Peach.”

“You don’t need to do a gotdamn thing but get the fuck out of my room.”

“Please…”

“Don’t give me that shit. That fake apology begging shit. You’re nothing but a liar, and a manipulator. Trying to fuck me under an alias. Pretending to be something you’re not.”

Steve grew exasperated and damn you if the sight of him potentially angry didn’t turn you on more. Did you actually want him to fight for you? 

You had a problem. A six foot, two inch problem.

“I didn’t fuck you, did I? I realized what I was doing was wrong and I stopped.”

You huffed and cocked your head.

“Yeah. You ran. Which was the easy way out. Instead of staying and apologizing and telling me the fucking truth. I don’t need your explanation now, asshole. You better be glad I don’t scream my ass off! Coming in here like you’re going to make me beg for you to put your little dick inside me and have your way with me in all the holes that you can.”

Steve raised his eyebrow, heart rate increasing. You wanted him.

“That's very oddly specific, Peach. Been thinking about me? Been fantasizing?”

His fervent whisper made you shiver.  

“And I think you’ve ascertained by now that it’s not little.”

He smirked as you glared at him. 

“You’re right, Peach. Now is not the time for explanations. Maybe we just need to finish what we started in Atlanta. Get the tension out so we can talk. Let me fuck you so hard that we both cum. Hard. So we can have a civil conversation.”

God, I need her to cum around my cock, those thighs wrapped around me, Steve thought. It was his only goal at the moment.

Your pussy sat up and took notice as you were silent, adjusting the pillow with the bullet under it so that he wouldn’t know what you were planning to do. He studied you as you sat up straighter in the bed.

You both knew that one fuck wouldn’t end the beef. In fact, you guessed correctly that you wouldn't be able to get enough.

“You want me to beg, Peach? To get on my knees for you and beg to give me just a few hours of your time to show you that I am completely and utterly yours, Y/N/LN.”

You stared at him as he nodded at you and started rubbing himself through his pajama pants like a heathen.

“But what would you let me come in here and do to you that would make you scream your ass off Peach, if I begged to your satisfaction?”

His eyes roamed your body, stopping at your rigid nipples through the thin material. 

Steve was thirsty now.

“Would you let me touch you?”

His baritone voice was destroying your pussy right now. She was practically humming and vibrating on nothing at the moment, and you wondered if you could come from words alone. 

Steve wondered the same thing.

So he tried it.

“Would you let me?” 

Waves of desire rolled off of him and you could feel it from across the room. He was itching to move close and touch you, but you needed to make the first move. 

So what he said to you was, “Would you let me get my dirty criminal hands all over you, Peach?” 

You tensed, not knowing if you wanted to strangle him or climb on his penis. But then you thought both, at the same time, and crossed your arms against your body instead.

“N-no!”

That damn eyebrow shot up and you looked away, not knowing if you had the strength to endure.

“I want to bite into you, Peach.”

You opened your mouth to breathe.

“Not hard. Just enough to see how soft your skin is. Just so you can feel it throughout your body…you are…fuck… you are so fine… I need to consume you.”

You were in the same room with the big bad wolf, and yet you didn’t want to escape.

“I wonder…”

He trailed off, and you turned your head and gained eye contact, curious and wound up tight. Your pussy was pounding now, and you knew he had to smell your scent. He was actually licking his chops. 

“Would you let me slide my tongue inside you and lick you clean?”

He watched his eyes dilate as your eyes shuttered and a sound came out from your throat. It was a whimper of need that you cut short by clearing your throat, but not before Steve’s eyes flicked down to your sleep shorts and your thighs rubbing against each other. He knew you had to be soaking wet. 

He licked his lips and nodded, agreeing with your lust.

“Yes. Want, no need, to rub my cock all over your beautiful body. Feed it to you inch by inch, until you take it down your throat.”

You closed your eyes to shut off the sight of him, but the images of what he was saying assaulted you. You were so close to giving in. 

“Will you, Peach? Let me rub this big dick all over that body?”

You opened your eyes and stared as Steve grabbed himself, holding it out for you. You were incredulous when you saw how thick and how long it was under his sleep pants. You licked your lips, suddenly very thirsty.

“Will you let me feed you this cock inch by fucking inch, till I’m down your throat?” 

Steve assessed you.

“I told you that you’d struggle to take it. But I bet you’d take it like the naughty little good girl you are. You’d gag on it for me.”

You wanted to crawl over to him on your knees and do as he said. But you were not going to fold. You took a deep breath, stood up slowly and walked over to him, his smile growing the nearer you approached.

You stopped just shy of touching him, his cock, his hands, those lips all there for the taking. You looked him dead in the eye.

“My aunt Karen keeps a shotgun by the bed. Get the fuck out of my room before I go get it and shoot your gotdamn balls off.”

The grin that Steve wore as he walked back to his room was blinding. You were the perfect woman for him. He just had to convince you.

He was still grinning when Bucky snuck back in the room from his rendezvous with his girl.

“I’m in.”

—--

The next morning you woke almost refreshed, having used your bullet successfully after Steve left the room. You got off in no time and renewed your strength. You even managed to tease your cousin who did the tiptoe of shame back to your shared bedroom before you fell asleep.

You came downstairs to the sight of your aunt and uncle on the way to coffee with Bucky and your cousin about to throw up.

It was obvious what was about to happen and you felt bad as she ran out to the beach to get some air. Maybe you were taking things out on her. As you watched her head toward the beach, you felt the hair on the back of your head rise.

You turned around to see Steve’s cerulean eyes appraising you. You suddenly felt self conscious about your sleep short set.

“Morning.”

“Hmmph.”

“I’ve been thinking about what you said last night, and you are correct. I’m sorry for continuing to pursuing you. What I did was wrong and there’s no future for us. We need to just cut ties. But there is one thing. The foundation.”

One of the things you’d realized was that the Rebirth Foundation that had bailed you out of debt and enabled you to quit stripping and start your dance school was the creation of Steve and Bucky. Your cousin told you it was a very real endeavor, but that Steve and Bucky did run it. 

“Yes. That’s unfortunate.”

“So. What do you want to do about that?”

Steve leaned back and damn, the power of grey sweats was not lost on you.

“What do you mean?”

“Well. I am the managing director of the foundation. If you keep the money, you’ll have to have contact with me; remember the stipulations?”

You grimaced as you recalled the terms of the endowment. A summit in New York, site visits. Shit. 

You crossed your arms and cocked your hip. Steve kept his eyes on your face. That threw you for a second. You cleared your throat.

“Are you trying to blackmail me, Rogers.”

Steve shook his head. 

“No. I knew you would think that. You are welcome to keep the money. I can just consider it a gift. I’ll pay the money back to the foundation out of my personal funds. Consider it a fine for my crimes.”

You looked down and chewed your lip. Then you looked back up at him, your head held high. 

“I’m not a coward, Mr. Rogers. I can fulfill my end of the bargain, even if you…” 

You stopped short.

“I can fulfill my end of the bargain.”

Steve looked at you for a long while, his blue eyes sad. Your heart clenched.

“Good. Your students deserve it. You should have a message in your inbox about the summit on December 15th. You don’t have to RSVP until next week because of the holiday."

Steve stood up and walked toward the kitchen door. 

“I’m gonna go see if your cousin is okay.”

You gaped as the man you thought you hated went to go care for your family. And if what you presumed was going to happen did happen, he was going to be like family for the rest of your life.

You were screwed.

——

If you enjoyed it, please Reblog!

Read the Bucky fic Worth The Fall that comes immediately after this. Read Peach IV, the next part.

[cobaltbluesu]

minophus thread. again.

Okay so i had a small moment of fixation today where i drew a bunch of minophus doodles. enjoy!

like lion's mane on steven universe. but its just being smothered by beard insted :]

ajjdshdhfhgfhghgghg

only one thats not from today

customs

divorcees C:

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

hiiii can you do whiskey w/ steve rogers that involves spanking/light bdsm? reader wants to try something new in the bedroom and steve's a little more hesitant at first but he gets into it

Darkness.

warnings - smut. cursing.

you know I had to use another nomad gif... it's the long hair with the beard... it gets me going man. I kind of went a little rogue with this request, but it just happened. apologies.

3k celebration post here. 3k masterlist here.

He's dreamed of women like you.

Strong, independent, resilient.

Women that take what they want, when they want it - regardless of the repercussions.

But he never could have anticipated your intuition. Your instincts.

You can read him like a book. Plain and simple. And no one can do that.

Steve prides himself on being stoic. Brave. The face of freedom. But it's like you look at him with x ray vision.

"Don't you ever get tired of it?" you ask one night.

Steve's sat on the edge of the bed, watching you get undressed. It's been a long night, full of fake smiles and ballgowns and polite handshakes. Weariness has settled in his bones.

"Tired of what?"

"The Golden Boy thing."

He scoffs.

"It's not a 'thing'."

You scoff.

"Come on, Steven. Don't forget I can see right through you."

"Oh yeah? Then what do you see, honey?"

You stalk over to him, settling down in his lap. Your favourite place.

"I can see the darkness, you know."

His brow quirks. Curiosity.

"Sometimes, I watch the America's Sweetheart facade slip ever so slightly. And I see what's underneath."

"And what would that be?"

A kiss to his jaw. Below his ear. A nip at his throat.

"You're a caged animal."

His grip on your hips tightens. Bingo.

"There's something in here, Steve," you point to his chest. "Something dark. Something raw. Something feral."

His breath hitches. His lungs constrict.

"I wanna see it," you whisper. "Whatever's underneath. I wanna see it."

He chuckles, low and menacing.

"Oh, honey. I don't think you know what you've just done."

You're on all fours in the blink of an eye. Strong fingers twist into the waistband of your underwear and pull, the sound of ripping lace making you gasp.

A smack to your ass makes you jolt, but not with fear. Anticipation. You want to see how far he'll go before he stops himself. You want to see his restraint snap.

"If you need me to stop," he whispers into your ear, "tell me. Or use the word Brooklyn."

He spanks you again before flipping you over with inhuman strength. He undoes his tie and runs the silk material through his fingers. You can see the cogs turning. He just needs a little push.

You raise your wrists and place them against the headboard, giving him a look that says I dare you.

Steve ties you up, standing back to admire his handiwork. He could get used to this view.

He reminds himself that you asked for this.

And he's never been one to deny you anything.

[invisibleicewands]

Michael Sheen: my dad’s last words — and how they inspire me

The actor talks movingly about the recent death of his father, Meyrick, setting up a new Welsh National Theatre and why he’s given away most of his money

For years, long before his father, Meyrick, was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, Michael Sheen would imagine the final conversation the two men would have. He assumed that it would be the time to say what had been unsaid. Meyrick died last month. He was 85 and Sheen was at his deathbed, with his mother, Irene, and his sister, Joanne. They all knew the journey they were on — “It had one destination” — and, as such, Sheen had time to prepare what he might say, sitting with Meyrick in his final days.

“But, ultimately, it just gets very simple,” says Sheen, a 56-year-old with a full ruffle of hair and beard, who seems a little more sombre than usual, as if shrunk by the flying away of friendly ghosts. “You just say, ‘I love you.’ And that’s it, really. When I was growing up, I used to measure who I was by how different I was to my father, but as I’ve got older, I measure who I am by how similar I am to him.”

Tributes poured in for Meyrick, a local hero in his hometown of Port Talbot, where Sheen was also brought up and near which he now lives. Meyrick worked in the steel industry and enjoyed a side hustle as a Jack Nicholson impersonator, but spent many years engaging and supporting local projects in the struggling community. In Port Talbot, up on Forge Road, there is a mural of Sheen, and the day after Meyrick died a local artist added his image. The family drove past it on the way to Meyrick’s funeral.

“It is amazing to have that,” says Sheen, adding that the mural is handy for his children to remember their grandfather by. Sheen has a 26-year-old daughter, Lily, from his relationship with the actress Kate Beckinsale, and, Lyra, five, and Mabli, three, with his partner, the actress Anna Lundberg, 30. “Lyra thinks that when people die, they become gravestones,” Sheen says. “There was no way I was going to be able to explain that my dad is now ashes in an urn, but I can take them to that mural and they can engage with him through that. And so can my mother, who met him when she was 14 and lost him when she was 83.”

I ask what Meyrick was most proud of, if there is a particular role by Sheen he admired above all others? Sheen smiles. “He always talked about a Steven Berkoff play, Harry’s Christmas, that I did in the summer holidays when at drama school,” Sheen says. “Dad took a bit of time off from work to watch me doing it and called my mum and said, ‘Irene, you have got to go and see this!’

“But the last thing he said to me was about Port Talbot,” Sheen says. “By the end, he was confusing and conflating things, but the spirit was clear. I was telling him about the possibility of a project in town and he wasn’t able to say very much, but the last thing he said to me wasn’t about acting. He was so passionate about his community, where he grew up and lived all his life, so communicating that to me was the most important thing to him at the end. It was very telling. He just said, ‘Get it done, Michael. Get it done.’”

Sheen’s life changed in 2011. Before then, he was simply Hollywood’s favourite Welsh actor, living in Los Angeles, the star of Frost/Nixon, The Queen and The Damned United. There was acclaimed TV work and theatre too, but then, 14 years ago, came The Passion, a 72-hour immersive play with professionals and locals that took over the streets of Port Talbot. He never looked back. That experience meant Sheen returned to Wales and became what he is now, partly an actor, but mostly a restless campaigner, much like Meyrick, for the arts and the people he feels have been left behind.

“I’ve got no control over what people remember once I’m not around; legacy is for other people,” he argues when I ask if this pivot to philanthropy was fuelled by wanting to leave behind more than roles. “But I can do something about now — using whatever resources I have, financial or my platform. So yes, I want to be the best actor I can, but it has also become increasingly meaningful to me that people respond to the other work I do.”

The work he has done, with his own money, includes restoring local venues; funding the Homeless World Cup in Cardiff; backing Port Talbot Town FC; helping working-class voices access the arts; and fronting Michael Sheen’s Secret Million Pound Giveaway on Channel 4, which assisted 900 people caught up in the grip of debt. Now, he has co-written a children’s book, A Home for Spark the Dragon, about a homeless dragon. Every book sold will raise £1 for Shelter.

Which makes Sheen very unusual. Does he think more well-off peers should follow his lead? “Well, I’m acutely aware there is a possibility that what I am doing causes more damage than good,” he explains. How so? “Because if you blunder in with good intentions but low knowledge into areas where people have all sorts of vulnerabilities, it might do harm. So I would not just try to get people to put money into things. Most people I know, actors or anybody with money, do care, but not everyone has the same opportunity to engage in a way I do and so feel they might make an idiot of themselves. So I would hope that other people would get more involved, but I don’t in any way judge people who don’t.”

Yet Sheen is hardly a ten-Marvel-movies-in-the-bank sort of actor. Yes, he did a few Twilight films that paid handsomely. Yes, he is well off. But how can he afford to spend the thousands he does? “It’s interesting when people talk about me as a multimillionaire,” he says, smiling. “Because no — I don’t have that much money. I mean, I have money compared to lots of people, but this is about juggling debt. I’m still paying off the Homeless World Cup. It’s not like I have all this spare cash. And there are times I can put money into things and times when I can’t.”

Which brings us to the arts — specifically Welsh National Theatre, the body that Sheen helped to found in January, as artistic director, to replace National Theatre Wales after it lost £1.6 million in funding from Arts Council of Wales. Reports say that Sheen is funding the new project. The co-production model, whereby the theatre will team up with other theatres, helps but other than that is the money really all coming from him? “Arts Council Wales gave National Theatre Wales transitional funding to either wrap up or come up with a plan for the future,” Sheen says. “And that plan ended up being me running the new organisation. There was an argument if any of that transitional funding should come with us and that’s now been resolved, so we will be in receipt of around £200,000. I am paying for everything else.”

And he wants to be ambitious. Nye, the play in which he stars as the Labour politician Aneurin “Nye” Bevan, returns to the National Theatre in London next month before a run at the Wales Millennium Centre in Cardiff. Tim Price’s play tackles a serious subject, the NHS, in an innovative but mainstream way — which is exactly what Sheen wants.

“When the current seems to be going in one direction,” he says, “it appeals to me to not let yourself be swept away by it, but turn your shoulder into the current and go the other way. So it’s not just us saying, with theatre, ‘We’re going to hang on!’ We’ll be more ambitious. We’ll be bolder.”

One of Welsh National Theatre’s first plays is Owain & Henry, about Owain Glyndwr’s rebellion against Henry IV of England. Which feels mischievous. Sheen is barely able to contain his glee. “The subtitle is ‘The End of England’. Cheeky is the wrong word — it’s audacious, challenging. I love that about it.”

There is a sense, though, that when it comes to the arts Sheen is just papering over the cracks. Backing Welsh National Theatre is one thing, but the list of financial crises in Wales extends to the National Museum Wales, Welsh National Opera, the Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama, St David’s Hall in Cardiff and many more.

It is more than one actor can solve, surely? “Well, clearly the system doesn’t work,” Sheen says with a sigh. “It’s f***ed! And what really exercises me is that some people are making massive amounts of money, but over the last 50 years we’ve been told about efficiency, how technology will save costs. Yet the majority of communities get less and less. It is not working, is it? Everything gets cut. I am not just talking about the arts. That should be the context within which we talk about anything.

“And then in that context,” he continues, on a mellifluous roll, “we get told: ‘Well, if it’s money going to your theatre or to nurses, what do you think we should do?’ That is a nonsense argument that reveals something about our society and values. It should not be the case where you have to decide between giving money to the NHS or the arts. All that reveals an attitude towards the arts as some sort of luxury add-on, which is a fundamental misunderstanding of who we are as human beings. Something is fundamentally wrong.”

It can be easy to forget Sheen is an actor, but he has hardly stopped his day job. As well the return of Nye, there is the potential return of Good Omens, the fantasy show he made with his friend David Tennant that was due a third series before sexual assault allegations arose against its creator Neil Gaiman. Sheen and Tennant filmed a feature-length finale instead of a run of episodes. “But I really don’t know what’s going to happen with it,” Sheen says. “We were both relieved we finished the story, but that’s within this really difficult, complicated, disturbing context. I hope people get to see it, but that, to a large extent, is out of our hands.”

Something that’s very much in his control is A Home for Spark the Dragon, which he wrote because having his two youngest children has thrust him back into the world of bedtime stories. He wanted to tackle a difficult subject and help parents to talk to children about homelessness.

Once, in north London, Sheen had started to talking to a homeless man whom he one night introduced to his family. “It clearly meant a huge amount to him,” Sheen says. “And made me realise, on a basic level, that we need food and drink to stay alive, but need connection as well. One of the hardest things about being on the streets is the feeling you’re just not seen.” He pauses. “But the book has to be engaging,” he insists. “If there’s a whiff of worthiness, it’s dead in the water.”

I wonder though — does Sheen show other parents up? Surely, when doing a bedtime read, he is all-in on the actorly voices? “My kids just don’t know what they’re getting,” he bellows. “Like, this is peak quality kids’ book reading and they take it completely for granted.” Could he charge them? “Well, we’ll see — I mean, they pay in one way or another, don’t they?”

He laughs. He was inspired to write Spark — which he would like to turn into a series — after reading to his girls The Invisible String by Patrice Karst. It is a children’s book that does not shy from tough conversations he thinks we should be having with our children.

“There’s a boy and a girl in this storm and they run scared into their mother, who tells them about the invisible string that connects them,” he says. “Even when they’re not together, they still feel it. Then, later, the kids ask, ‘What about Uncle Billy?’ Who is clearly dead. And it’s then you realise how hard it is to talk about this stuff, how much as a culture we avoid it. When I lost my father, it became a question of how we tell the girls.” He smiles rather sweetly. “And in the book? For Uncle Billy? Well, the mother says, ‘Yes. Yes, you’re still connected to him, by this invisible string …’”

[angel-of-the-moons]

Hi, this is my first ever request, so please forgive me if I sound all over the place.

I was thinking of going trick-or-treating with Miguel O’Hara and Gabriella as wife-reade. Or the moon boys going trick-or-treating with single mother-reader and Victoria from small surprises. Either one would be great, and thank you if you consider my request 🙏🏼

I LOVE YOU THANK YOU FOR ASKING I MIGHT SPLIT THIS UP INTO TWO PARTS BECAUSE MY GOD I MISSED VICTORIA BUT I ALSO MISS MIGUEL

Trick r Treat

Moon Boys (Marc, Steven, Jake) x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: The candy ain't the only thing you gotta worry about rotting your teeth with this!

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

"I just don't get why she'd wanna be him." Marc seethed.

You cant help but chuckle, watching as Victoria skipped up to the first house she saw, after bravely declaring she was big enough to go and ask for candy by herself.

Her Halloween costume consisted of a painstakingly-detailed outfit that looked like Layla's Avatar outfit, complete with a gold cape in place of her wings. And, on her head... was a paper-mache bird skull, an uncanny resemblance to Khonshu.

Steven (even though he had some snarky comments about her choice in costume), had helped her craft it by looking at detailed patterns of raven skulls. Jake helped with the costume, stitching each little symbol and piece of fabric into probably the most detailed costume that any child her age ever could have.

"Hey, hey..." You giggled. "She's not just him... shes a weird... Khonshu-Layla hybrid thing."

His nose scrunched in the cutest way, "That is so much worse."

Marc was wearing his Moon Knight suit, sans the mask. As much as Khonshu bristled at him using it for such paltry purposes, his gruf demeanor changed when you pointed out that if, on the off chance, that something bad happens, at least Marc would be prepared and protected. He seemed to quiet down, after that.

But you knew he didn't leave you unsupervised. Every now and then, you'd spare a glance up and spot his lumbering form, hunched over the edge of a rooftop, watching over Victoria.

You don't know why he got so attached to Victoria, or why he revealed his hidden softness only to her; but you were grateful that so many eyes were on your precious baby girl.

You sighed, digging the heel of your palm into your lower back.

Marc looked at you, frowning, "Baby, you okay?"

You smiled at him, tired but still happy. Your own costume consisted of green tights, and an orange shirt. The pattern of a happy jack-o-lantern stretched taut over your rounded belly. It was difficult to find a costume that suited you, given how far you were into on your third trimester you were; and it was a little saddening that you couldn't match with Victoria or Marc.

So... You were a round little pumpkin!

"Yeah, just a certain little someone is tapdancing on my kidney."

"Shoes are comfy?" Marc asked, smiling sweetly as he rubbed one of his hands over your tummy.

"Yeah. I'm fine, Marc. I swear, you worry more than Steven." You grinned playfully.

Marc snorted, but didn't object, continuing to rub your belly. "Hey, I'm just worried about my ladies."

"Pfsh! You and Jake! You seriously think this one is a girl, too?" You laughed, shaking your head.

"Hey! We can hope! We kinda like the idea of an other little you running around!" Marc replied, kissing your cheek.

"You just wanna be a girl-dad."

"Heyyy... Nothing wrong with that." He replied, his thick eyebrows waggling, his salt-and-pepper beard quirking upwards around his lips.

Victoria cut your conversation short as she came bounding back up to yeah, paying no mind to the children her bird mask terrified as it bobbed with her peppy footsteps.

"Mommy!" She giggled, wrapping her arms around your legs, rubbing her face on your round belly, greeting her unborn sibling.

"Heya, munchkin!" You chuckled, patting her mask affectionately. "Get a nice haul?"

"Yeah!" She nods her head, handing her bag to Marc for him to inspect her goodies. When he looked in, his eyebrow raised and he whistled, "Whew! She's got two full-size bars in here."

You rocked your head back, "Wow. That is a nice haul. Let's go to another house, huh, baby?"

Victoria giggled, walking between you and Marc, swinging your arms with her hands interlocked with hers.

"Yeah! Let's go!"

House after house, you and Marc let Victoria be a "big girl" and walk up to front doors and people toting candy buckets by herself, staying a reasonable distance as you both watched her with protective eyes.

However... there was a house that was... shall we say, intense with their decorations. A seemingly headless man sat in the rocking chair, candy bucket in his lap; looped recordings of a woman scream played as fog rolled across the yard from a cheap machine.

Robotic spiders and critters moved along the walls with their janky joints, projections of ghosts fluttering across the surface of the house.

Victoria didn't seem to be keen on walking up to that one. Not alone.

One hand held the beak of her mask while the other gripped Marc's hand nice and tight, hiding behind one of his legs.

"Want me to go ahead?" Marc asked her gently, kneeling down next to her. He bumped his shoulder against her, smiling sweetly, "I can scout it out for you. Make sure no bad monsters will getcha. Sound good?"

Victoria mumbled, her feet fidgeting as she eyed the house. Her entire posture was unsure; frightened, even.

"Yeah." She finally peeped.

Marc smiled up at you before sauntering up the footpath. And as he neared, it was obvious the headless "mannequin" was a man in a rigged costume--likely waiting to jump out at the first kid to come grabbing for a piece of candy.

The bucket was cheap plastic, painted to look both rusted and bloody with a sticky note that read: "Two per person! :)"

"Hey, buddy," Marc leaned in and rested his hand on the padded "shoulder". "My little girl is gonna walk up here and get some candy. You will not, under any circumstances, jump out at her and scare her, or make her cry. Or I will put my fist through your teeth. Get it?"

"...Got it." A shaky voice replied, earning a pat from Marc.

"Good."

Marc turned around and grinned, giving a thumbs-up to assure Victoria the "headless man" wasn't a threat.

As he walked back to stand next to you, he laced his fingers with yours.

You couldn't help but sigh as Victoria, now fearless, braved the path up to get her loot.

"You threatened that poor guy, didn't you?"

"Hey, I don't like it when she's scared. And if that guy made her cry, you can't say you wouldn't hit him." He said, bringing your hand to his lips to kiss his knuckles, the rough hair of his beard lightly scratching your skin.

You sigh, "If I wasn't currently sporting a bowling ball for a belly, I'd put my foot up his ass."

You grinned and looked at him, tipping your chin to a nearby building. "And besides... you know the old man would make his life hell if he made her so much as sniffle."

He had to admit, as much as it pained him to do so, that you were right.

He'd hate to be that guy if he had scared your precious girl...

If he thought horror movie critters were scary... He wasn't prepared for a pissed-off, protective god.

You chuckled, extended your hand to envelop Victoria's as she came happily skipping back to you. "Come on... let's go."

Yeah, it wasn't a "normal" Halloween... But it was the first one Marc ever really participated in, let alone enjoyed. And with his baby on the way?

He, Steven and Jake were on cloud nine.

A happy family just enjoying some old-fashioned trick-or-treating.

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Can you do one for Slash and ADHD reader? Like, Slash goes to rehearsal (she's there too) and she's just so hyperactive 'cuz she forgot to take her meds

A/n: ik this isn’t exactly what you asked, I just started writing and came out with this, I hope you enjoy it nonetheless <3

You were sitting on the couch watching them run through songs, your mind was wandering and it finally hit you that you’d forgotten to take your meds. You chewed your cheek and tried to think of what you could do, the band before you serving as thinking music.

Of course that thought led to another and soon you were going over the last episode of your favourite show.

Slash sat down beside you and you barely noticed until he said something. “Are you ok?” He asked, the others were all busy talking about a new song, trying to get their own parts down.

Your head snapped to him. “Hm?”

He put his around over your shoulders. “I asked-“

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine.” He stared at you a moment. “I forgot my meds.” You said, biting your cheek. Slash gave a small nod.

“Do you want me to go get them?”

You shook your head. “I’ll be fine, it’s just one day.” He hummed. “How about I go get you guys some food?”

“You’ll get us food?” Steven called, interrupting Axl. “Italian? Mexican?”

“There’s this new pizza joint just down the street, why don’t you go there?” Duff suggested.

You held you hands up. “I’m not paying.” Duff and Steven groaned.

“Take my wallet.” Slash muttered, handing you a ripped up leather wallet. You hesitated a moment before taking it. You noted down everyone’s orders and went down the street, repeating the orders in your head.

“Two pepperoni, Hawaiian, two meat lovers.” You muttered over and over. “Hawaiian wasn’t even made in Hawa’ii” you mumbled. “It was Canada, where’d they get Hawaiian, pineapple? Or ham, they make cook pig in a hole in the ground or something. Is that even real?” You kept thinking about it as you walked.

“There’s a pig island in Hawaii, you know.” A man told you. You had no idea who he was or how long he’d been following you.

“There is?” You asked.

“Yeah, ship hauling pigs crashed and the pigs learned to swim, now they just live there.” You liked the idea of it, pigs roaming an island and in the water, little snorts everywhere.

“That’s cute, it’s Hawa’ii, by the way.” You said.

“Really?” The man asked. You shrugged.

“I remember hearing that somewhere, makes sense if you listen to the language.” The man took in your words.

“Cool.” He said plainly. “Is there a reason you’re standing here?” You glanced around and saw you were just outside the pizza place Duff was talking about.

“I came for pizza.” You said, looking up at the sign.

“Why didn’t you go in?” You shrugged.

“I don’t know.” You stayed there an extra moment before going inside, waving goodbye to the man.

While waiting in line you kept glancing back to the man. He wore a hoodie that had seen better days, a patchy beard and shorts that didn’t start out as shorts nor were they intentionally made into shorts.

You stayed in line and made a mental note to get him a slice.

When you got back to their rehearsal room you had a big cheese pizza with a slice missing. “What happened to variety?” Axl asked as he reached for a slice.

“Do you want it or not?” You bit. Axl hesitantly took a slice. Slash was next to you, an arm wrapped around you. Steven and Duff were talking, an argument brewing and Izzy was pushing it on.

“So, why’d it take you so long?” Slash asked, his voice low as he leaned against you.

“I met a guy.” You said through a mouthful of pizza. Slash stared at you. “A homeless guy, he was nice and talked to me about Hawa’ii.” Slash nodded though he didn’t seem to understand.

[corendisguise]

Superman Unmasked & Unveiled

Chapter 2

Tom’s phone laying on the counter, the screen dark. He just sent another unanswered massage to Steven. He stared at it for a moment, his jaw tightening as frustration bubbled in his chest. The guy had vanished without a trace—no texts, no messages, nothing. It was as if their night together had been a figment of his imagination, a fleeting dream that dissolved into nothing.

“Asshole,” Tom muttered under his breath, swiping the phone aside. He stalked across the living room, running a hand through his hair. His mind kept drifting back to Steven, to the way they’d connected, the heat of their bodies pressed together, the urgency and raw passion that had ignited between them. It had been one hell of an experience, but now… now it felt like a cruel joke.

He sighed, pacing back and forth. His jeans felt uncomfortably tight, the lingering tension in his body demanding release. He needed to forget about Steven, move on, but the constant ache in his groin refused to let him. Every thought of the man left him harder, more desperate, more frustrated.

The doorbell rang, jolting Tom out of his brooding. He froze, blinked, then shook himself out of his daze. Probably just another delivery he didn’t remember ordering. He grabbed the doorknob and pulled it open, ready to sign for whatever box or package had arrived.

But the sight that greeted him made his breath hitch. Standing there was a man who could have stepped straight out of a fantasy. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with a physique that screamed power and confidence. His shirt clung to his chest, the fabric stretched taut over bulging muscles, and even from here, Tom could see the hard peaks of his nipples straining against the material. The sleeves rode up slightly, revealing muscular forearms dusted with light golden hair. His shorts were short enough to show off thick thighs that tapered down to long, sock-covered calves, every inch of him radiating strength and presence.

His hair was long and blonde, tied back in a big bun on his head, a few strands falling loose around his face. A full beard framed sharp cheekbones and a mouth that curved into a knowing smile as their eyes met. Those eyes… they were a vivid blue, piercing and intense, like the deep waters of some ancient fjord.

The name tag pinned to his chest read simply: Sven.

“Delivery for your neighbor Mr. Smith - he is not present. Can you take it for him?,” the man said, his voice low and rich, carrying a heavy accent that only added to his allure. It wasn’t just any accent—it was something rugged, primal, the kind of sound you’d expect from a Viking statue come to life.

Tom swallowed hard, trying to form a response. His heart was pounding, his mind already racing with thoughts he shouldn’t be having. This guy… this Sven… he was exactly the kind of distraction Tom hadn’t realized he needed.

Sven held out a small package, his fingers brushing against Tom’s as he handed it over. The contact sent a jolt through Tom, making his skin prickle with awareness. He forced himself to focus, to take the package and step back, but Sven didn’t move. Instead, he shifted, leaning casually against the doorframe, his arms crossing over his chest in a way that emphasized his biceps.

“Nice place you got here,” Sven remarked, his gaze sweeping over the interior of the house. “Quiet neighborhood. Good for relaxing, yeah?”

Tom nodded dumbly, still too caught up in the sheer magnetism of the man in front of him to form coherent words.

Sven’s eyes flicked back to him, amusement dancing in their depths. “You alright, mate? You seem a bit… distracted.”

“I’m fine,” Tom stammered, cursing himself for sounding so awkward. “Just… uh… busy day.”

Sven chuckled, the sound warm and rough, like distant thunder. “Well, I hope I’m not interrupting anything important.” He hesitated, then added, “Actually, there is one thing… I’ve been driving all day, and well… my bladder’s about to burst. Think I could use your loo?”

Tom blinked, momentarily thrown by the abrupt request. Then he found himself nodding once again. “Yeah, sure. Uh… it’s just down the hall, second door on the right.”

“Cheers,” Sven said with a grin, pushing off the doorframe. He stepped inside, his movement fluid and confident, and followed Tom down the hall. Tom couldn’t help but notice how Sven’s presence seemed to fill the space, how his towering frame cast shadows that seemed to stretch and shift like something alive.

When they reached the bathroom, Sven disappeared inside, leaving Tom standing awkwardly in the hallway. He ran a hand over his face, berating himself for being so tongue-tied. What the hell was wrong with him? He wasn’t some awkward teenager anymore—he could hold a damn conversation with a hot guy without acting like an idiot.

But Sven… Sven was different. There was something about him, something magnetic and overwhelming, like a force of nature. And Tom couldn’t deny that he was drawn to it, despite his better judgment.

The sound of the toilet flushing snapped Tom out of his thoughts. Sven emerged a moment later, looking refreshed and somehow even more imposing than before. He stretched his arms overhead, the motion pulling his shirt tight across his chest, and Tom couldn’t look away.

“Thanks for that,” Sven said, flashing another smile. “Much appreciated. Listen, I know this might sound weird, but could I trouble you for a glass of water? My throat’s bone dry after spending hours in this damn van.”

Tom nodded quickly, gesturing toward the kitchen. “Of course. Come on.”

They walked into the kitchen together, the air between them charged with an unspoken energy. Tom grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water, handing it over to Sven, who took a long drink, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.

“Ahhh,” Sven sighed, lowering the glass. “That hits the spot. Thanks, mate.”

“No problem,” Tom replied, his voice barely above a whisper. He leaned against the counter, trying to play it cool, but his nerves were shot, his body humming with anticipation.

Sven set the glass down on the counter and turned to face Tom fully. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence stretching between them like a livewire. Then, slowly, deliberately, Sven stepped closer, close enough that Tom could feel the warmth radiating off his body.

“You’re not really fine, are you?” Sven asked, his voice low and intimate. He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against Tom’s arm, sending a shiver down his spine.

Tom’s breath hitched, his heart beating faster as Sven’s touch lingered. “What… what do you mean?”

Sven smiled, a slow, dangerous curve of his lips. “I mean you’re wound up tighter than a spring. Something on your mind? Or someone?”

Before Tom could respond, Sven’s hand moved again, this time gripping his shoulder firmly. The pressure was firm but not painful, a clear display of strength and dominance that sent a thrill through Tom’s veins.

“Tell me,” Sven commanded, his tone brooking no argument. “Whoever it is, they’re idiots for letting you go.”

Tom’s mouth went dry, his hesitation melting away under Sven’s intense gaze. „How could he know?“ He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. All he could do was stare, his body responding involuntarily to Sven’s proximity, his cock thickening behind his jeans. Tom forgot every question.

Sven must have noticed, because his smile widened, predatory and pleased. “That’s what I thought,” he murmured, stepping even closer until their chests were almost touching.

And then, without warning, Sven’s lips were on his, claiming him in a kiss that was both soft and demanding. Tom gasped into the kiss, his hands flying up to grab at Sven’s shirt, clinging to the fabric as if it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

Sven’s tongue traced along the seam of his lips, coaxing them apart, and when Tom complied, the kiss deepened instantly. It was all teeth and tongue, rough and insatiable, a stark contrast to the gentle teasing Sven had started with.

Tom moaned, his head spinning as Sven’s hands roamed down his sides, dipping dangerously low before settling on his hips. The grip was possessive, fingers digging into his skin as Sven pulled him flush against his body.

Tom could feel every ridge of Sven’s abs through the thin fabric of his shirt, the hardness of his chest pressing against his own. And then there was the unmistakable bulge in Sven’s pants, rubbing against him in a way that sent sparks of pleasure shooting through his core.

Sven tore his lips away, breathing heavily as he looked down at Tom, his blue eyes dark with desire. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he growled, his voice rougher than before.

Before Tom could respond, Sven’s hands were yanking at Toms shirt, ripping buttons free as he pulled the fabric apart. Tom gasped, his chest heaving as the cool air hit his heated skin. Sven tossed the ruined shirt to the floor, his gaze raking over Tom’s bare torso.

“Beautiful,” Sven whispered, his fingers trailing down the center of Tom’s chest, tracing the lines of his abs before circling his navel.

Tom shuddered, his legs feeling like jelly as Sven’s touch sent waves of heat crashing through him. “Please,” he begged, his voice hoarse with need. “Don’t stop…”

Sven smirked, his fingers dipping lower, brushing the waistband of Tom’s jeans. “Oh, I won’t stop,” he promised, his voice dripping with intent. “Not until I’ve tasted every inch of you.”

Tom’s hands trembled as Sven pulled away, his breathing ragged and uneven. The intensity of the kiss had left him dizzy, his body aching for more of Sven’s touch. But something about the moment felt… off. It wasn’t just the way Sven’s lips had moved or the roughness of his beard against Tom’s skin; it was a flicker in Sven’s expression, a glint in his eyes that sent a shiver down Tom’s spine.

“What’s wrong?” Sven asked, his voice low and husky, his accent thicker than before. He cupped Tom’s cheek, his thumb brushing over the corner of his mouth. “You’re not pulling away, are you?”

Tom shook his head, though his mind raced. The sensation of Sven’s hand on his skin was intoxicating, but beneath it all, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss. His gaze flickered down to Sven’s neck, where the collar of his shirt had shifted slightly. And there it was—a faint line, barely noticeable, but enough to catch his eye. A seam.

“No,” Tom murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. His heart pounded in his chest, a mix of anger and arousal swirling inside him. “I’m not pulling away.”

Sven smirked, leaning in to press another kiss to Tom’s jaw, his stubble scratching against Tom’s skin. “Good. Because I don’t plan on letting you go anytime soon.”

Tom swallowed hard, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. He could feel the heat building in his core, the same undeniable hunger that had consumed him days before with Henry Cavill. But this time, it was different. This time, he wasn’t going to let himself be played. He wasn’t going to let Sven—or Steven—call the shots.

With a sudden burst of determination, Tom grabbed Sven by the shoulders, pushing him back gently but firmly. Sven raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “What’s got into you, love?”

“Nothing,” Tom replied, his voice steady now. “Just… switching things up.”

Before Sven could react, Tom stepped forward, closing the distance between them. His hands were on Sven’s shirt, yanking it open in one swift motion. Buttons flew everywhere, pinging against the floor and walls as the fabric fell open, revealing Sven’s broad chest and those hard, prominent nipples. Tom’s breath hitched as his fingers grazed over the warm flesh, feeling the tension in Sven’s body beneath his touch. Sven exhaled sharply, his hands moving to grip Tom’s hips. “Careful,” he growled, his voice deeper now, almost animalistic. “Don’t think I won’t take what I want.”

Tom didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned in, pressing his lips to Sven’s neck. He kissed his way up to his ear, his tongue flicking out to taste the saltiness there. Sven groaned, his grip tightening on Tom’s hips. But Tom wasn’t done. His fingers trailed down Sven’s chest, pausing briefly to tweak his nipples, eliciting another growl from the man beneath him. Then, without warning, Tom’s hand dipped lower, undoing the button of Sven’s shorts.

Sven froze, his breath catching in his throat. “Fuck,” he muttered, his voice laced with both surprise and desire. “You’re really taking charge, aren’t you?”

Tom didn’t respond. His hand slipped inside Sven’s shorts, wrapping around the thick, throbbing length of him. He could feel the sheet around Sven’s (Steven) Penis, so it was also a muscle suit again. Sven gasped, his head falling back as Tom pumped him slowly, deliberately. “God, yes,” Sven breathed, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Don’t stop…”

Tom didn’t stop. He continued stroking Sven, his own cock hardening with every passing second. The sight of Sven’s reaction, the way his body tensed and relaxed with each movement, was enough to drive Tom wild. But he wasn’t finished yet. Withdrawing his hand, he shoved Sven’s shorts and underwear down in one swift motion, exposing the other man completely.

Sven bit his lip, his eyes half-lidded as he watched Tom. “You sure about this?” he asked, his voice rough. “Because once we start, I’m not stopping.”

Tom smirked, stepping back to strip himself of the remaining scraps of clothing. His jeans and boxers joined the pile of discarded fabric on the floor, leaving him completely bare. Sven’s gaze devoured him, raking over every inch of his body with a predatory intensity.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Tom said, his voice steady despite the nervous energy coursing through him.

Without wasting another second, Tom closed the distance between them, pressing his body against Sven’s. The heat radiating from the other man’s skin was almost overwhelming, and when their cocks brushed against each other, they both groaned. Sven’s hands came up to grip Tom’s shoulders, his fingers digging into the muscle suit there as he kissed him again, harder this time.

Tom melted into the kiss, his senses drowning in the raw, primal connection between them. But he didn’t forget why he was doing this. His hands moved down to Sven’s waist, slipping behind him to grab two handfuls of ass. Sven growled into the kiss, grinding his hips forward, the friction sending sparks of electricity through Tom’s veins.

“Fuck,” Tom muttered against Sven’s lips, his grip tightening. “You feel so good…”

Sven’s response was a low rumble in his chest, his movements growing more urgent as he pressed Tom back toward the couch. They tumbled onto the soft cushions, their bodies entangled as they kissed and groped each other with abandon. Sven’s hands roamed over Tom’s back, his nails lightly scraping against the artificial skin there, digging deep into the suit.

Tom shuddered, his breath coming in shallow gasps as Sven was laying in front of him. But then, Sven’s hand slid down to cup Tom’s aching cock, stroking him with expert precision. Tom cried out, his hips arching off the couch as he thrust into Sven’s hand.

“Yes,” Tom hissed, his voice breaking. “More…”

Sven complied, quickening his pace as he brought Tom closer and closer to the edge. But just as Tom felt himself teetering on the brink, Sven stopped, pulling his hand away with a wicked grin.

“Not yet,” Sven whispered, his voice dripping with intent.

Tom glared at him, his frustration mingling with the ache in his groin. Sven bent upwards to kiss Tom again. But this time, his kiss was softer, more teasing, as if he knew exactly how to drive Tom crazy.

Tom’s hands fisted in Sven’s hair, pulling him closer as he deepened the kiss. But as their tongues tangled, Tom’s mind wandered back to the strange gap at Sven’s neck. The realization that this man was Steven in disguise only fueled his arousal, making him more determined than ever to take control.

Breaking the kiss, Tom pushed Sven onto his back, straddling his hips. “My turn,” he said, his voice firm.

Sven’s eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t protest. Instead, he grinned up at Tom, his hands resting lazily on his stomach. “Go ahead,” he said, his voice teasing. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Tom didn’t waste any time. His hands moved to Sven’s thighs, lifting them on his shoulders as he positioned himself between them. Sven’s cock twitched against his abdomen, the heat of it searing through his skin. Tom glanced down, his eyes locking with Sven’s.

Tom’s hands tightened on Sven’s hips, his grip almost bruising as he pushed into him with a force that made Sven arch back, his head lolling against the couch cushions. Sven groaned, a deep, guttural sound that vibrated through his chest, his muscles tensing and relaxing around Tom in waves of pleasure. His eyes squeezed shut, his jaw slack as he surrendered completely to the sensation.

“Fuck,” Sven gasped, his voice ragged and breathless. “Harder, Tom. Please.”

Tom didn’t need to be asked twice. His anger, his frustration, his desperate need for release all coalesced into a singular, savage thrust. The sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed through the room, raw and primal. Sven’s hands scrambled to brace himself against the couch, his fingers digging into the muscle suit as Tom’s thrusts grew more erratic, more furious.

“You like that?” Tom growled, leaning down to press his mouth to Sven’s ear. He bit down lightly on the soft lobe, tasting salt, sweat and rubber as Sven shivered beneath him. “You like feeling me inside you?”

Sven let out a strangled cry, his body bucking wildly as Tom’s movements became more chaotic. His cock twitched between them, slick with pre-come as it bobbed against his belly. “Yes,” Sven choked out, his voice breaking. “God, yes.”

Tom’s fingers trailed up Sven’s sides, brushing against the seam of the muscle suit. A flicker of doubt crossed his mind, but it was quickly swallowed by the haze of lust raging through him. He needed this. Needed *him*. Needed to forget about Steven and the endless ache in his chest.

But as his fingers pulled harder at the flesh of the hips, the fabric gave way under the string pull. His heart skipped a beat, his momentum faltering for just a moment. The room echoed with a slight ripping sound. Sven moaned, his hips rocking up to meet Tom’s, urging him to continue.

Tom hesitated, his brow furrowing as he stared at the seam. Swallowing hard, Tom’s fingers dug further into the material feeling the warm sweaty atmosphere underneath, gripping tight again as he gave a sharp yank. The skin made a stretching rubbery sound before snapping back.

The seam tore further open. The sound reverberating through the room. Sven’s breath hitched, but he didn’t stop moving, didn’t stop moaning as if nothing had happened. Tom froze, his gaze locked on the exposed skin beneath the suit—smooth, unblemished, sweaty and entirely inconsistent with the rough, weathered exterior Sven had presented.

Tom’s furor even grow with expression of a deep guttural scream. His hands moved faster, tearing at the fabric with increasing urgency. The suit peeled away in chunks, revealing more of the natural sweaty skin beneath. A breeze of musky wet air reached his nose. Sven’s hips rolled erratically, his breaths coming in short bursts as he panted, “More, Tom... give me more.”

Tom’s anger surged, his movements becoming almost frenzied as he ripped the remains of the suit away. Steven’s chest was fully exposed now, the fake muscles ripped apart. Beneath it all was the true form - athletic but not looking like the muscular Viking.

“Why are you doing this?” Tom demanded to know.

Sven’s eyes fluttered open, his blue irises glinting with something between mischief and desire. “Does it matter?” he purred, his accent thicker than before. “You’re still inside me, aren’t you?”

Tom’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t pull away. If anything, his movements grew even more aggressive, his thrusts pounding into Sven with reckless abandon. He wanted to hurt him, to punish him for lying, for deceiving him. But more than that, he wanted to lose himself in the sensation, to forget everything except the friction and the heat and the undeniable pleasure wracking his body.

His fingers twitched against Sven’s skin, tracing the edges of the mask that still clung to his face. The urge to tear it off, to see the truth behind the deception, was overwhelming. His chest rose and fell with each breath, his skin glistening with sweat. Finally, he reached up with one hand, his fingers entering under the edge of the mask. He pulled strongly at the mask, the facial features twisted, the mouth hole lifted from Steven's lips and the nose twisted, a crack formed in the corner of the mouth. Steven body tensed in ecstasy and he let sit another deep moan. With a sudden jerk he peeled the lower part of the mask away. The lower part of the mask ripped apart, leaving the bearded part of Steven’s face exposed. It was drenched in sweat. His lips were twisted in a devilish smile. Tom grabbed the hair bun of the mask now and pulled the rest of the mask upright, ripping the mask away entirely.

Tom’s pulse quickened even more, his fingers tightening as he watched. The mask was off, revealing Stevens true face.

Tom’s breath caught in his throat, while holding the remains of Sven’s handsome face in his hand.

His other hand slid down to Sven’s thigh, gripping tightly as he slammed into him one last time. The completely exposed Steven cried out, his voice high-pitched and desperate as his orgasm crashed over him. His cock pulsed between them, shooting thick streams of come that splattered across his stomach and chest. The sight of it, combined with the feel of Svens face in his hand, was enough to push Tom over the edge.

With a low, animalistic groan, Tom came hard, his entire body shuddering as he emptied himself into Steven. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of their labored breathing and the heavy thud of their hearts.

Tom collapsed forward, resting his forehead against Sven’s shoulder, rubbing his torso against the sweaty exposed natural breast of Steven, as he caught his breath.

The sweaty face of Steven was now revealed, his blue eyes locking with Tom’s as the mask fell to the ground. For a moment, there was only silence, broken only by their heavy breaths and the faint hum of the refrigerator in the background. Tom’s mind raced, questions flooding his thoughts, but beneath it all, he felt the undeniable pull of desire—and something deeper.

“Why?” Tom asked, his voice trembling with a mix of confusion and longing. “Why would you trick me like this? Again?”

Steven didn’t answer right away. Instead, he slid his hand up Tom’s thigh, his fingers curling around the soft surface of his hip. His touch was deliberate, calculated, as if testing Tom’s resolve. The tension between them crackled like static electricity, charged and unrelenting.

“Because I needed you to punish me,” Steven finally said, his voice low and rough, laced with an accent that made the words roll off his tongue like honey. “Needed you to take possession of me—really feel me.”

Tom blinked, his heart pounding in his chest. The intensity in Steven’s gaze was overwhelming, pulling him in like a moth to a flame. He wanted to be angry, to push Steven away, but the truth was, he couldn’t. Not when Steven’s hands were so warm against his skin, not when his lips curved into that crooked smile that had haunted Tom’s dreams for days.

“You bastard,” Tom murmured, though his tone lacked any real venom. He leaned forward, closing the gap between them, his lips brushing against Steven’s in a soft, searching kiss. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Steven chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated through Tom’s body. “Oh, I think I have some idea,” he said, his hands sliding up to cup Tom’s face. “But tell me, Tom. Tell me how much you missed me.”

Tom groaned, his fingers gripping Steven’s shoulders as the heat between them intensified. “I missed you like crazy,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “Every second since you disappeared. I thought… I thought I’d never feel this way again.”

Steven’s grin widened, and he kissed Tom again, this time harder, more possessive. His tongue darted into Tom’s mouth, exploring every inch with a hunger that left no room for doubt. Tom melted against him, his arms wrapping around Steven’s broad shoulders, pulling him closer.

“You’re mine,” Steven growled, his voice dripping with dominance. “Always.”

to be continued……

[thenightshadowqueen]

Divorces and Teddy Bears—Watchthrough Thoughts

I’m not sure if anyone likes reading these, but I do, and I figure I can’t be the only one, so here we go. (Plus, they’re fun to make.)

The little card and “beginning-middle-end” editing is amazing

The presents in the title card being addressed to “Peter Steven”, “Priscilla”, and “Johnny and Janae”??????? They know their fanbase; I died

I love this stage

Also captions!!!

I love Luke being so confused at the beginning and just going “Oh!” when he gets it

“I was dressed as a sheep” ah, taking lessons from Sam, are we?

AJ’s sassy walk!!!!!!!

Okay I love Mrs. Claus holy shit

“Leave the keys in the sled, yes. So I can start the engine of the sled.” I love it when Sam points out logic flaws without even breaking character (although I also love it when he breaks character too)

Poor Snowdrop, being assigned as the child of divorce and forced into the middle

Also Luke’s hair???? He looks amazing

The camera quality is great as well

“We feed directly on your emotions. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner.” Luke????

Congrats to Luke for finally getting his diagnosis!

Also Luke directing the audience to cheer for him and then to stop is amazing (reminds me a bit of that clip of him getting the room to be quiet in that recent Genre game)

Tom changing the scene just to crouch behind the chair… This caught me so off guard (in the best way possible)

I know someone already said this but Little Krampus has huge Scottish Robin vibes

Also I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: how the FUCK does Tom move like that?

Tom stroking at a strand of Luke’s hair like that is so weird and I’m here for it; Tom’s character choices are always top-notch

I think “sassy women who fly to warm places to cheat on their husbands with men called Javier” is my favourite niche sub-genre of AJ character (insert that thing about nickels and things happening twice) (shoutout to Tracy) (also I know that Tracy didn’t canonically sleep with Javier but like… she totally did, right?) (or with a different Javier) (there are always plenty of Javiers available in the SFTHverse) (and she has been fucking everyone (direct quote from her))

I love it when AJ fucks up some tiny, barely-significant thing and Sam just CANNOT let it go and it becomes an actual plot point

AJ’s passport photo poses are gorgeous

“The most wanted terrorist in the North Pole” Jesus Christ Sam

Also tangent but can I just say that AJ wearing friendship bracelets is everything (and am I right in saying that I think those were the ones made by fans? Or am I misremembering? Because if they are that is so fucking sweet)

Now I really want to learn more about the Great Battle

Sassy Tom!!!! I love sassy Tom

The Sam and Luke elves remind me of the Oompa Loompas from West End Big Boys

I love Luke’s determination to climb on Sam and Sam’s determination to prevent it

“~Rudolph motherfucker~” have I mentioned that I love AJ?

Audience to the rescue!

“Initiating micro-space” AJ???

Javier having basically all of his buttons undone… Xavier flashbacks, anyone? (Also, Tom having basically all of his buttons undone… he definitely remembers the latest DnD livestream)

“I was expecting a sexy lady with a big beard” hell yeah, bearded women!

“Is [having your shirt unbuttoned] the local custom?” “No, only when we are awaiting a lover. Which, again, you are not; you are two children.” I love that Tom has to remind Sam to not unbutton his shirt because… it’s Sam

“My manservant was surprised” one, of course Javier had a manservant, and two, they need to stop making me think of BBC Merlin because it kills me every single fucking time

Luke just casually telling this random man that he’s 2000 years old… god, they really do never leave the North Pole, do they?

“Tell me a little less” I love Tom

“I’m definitely the receiver in the relationship” TOM (but also good for Javier)

AJ oh my fucking god

“That’s how it works up there” god I love Sam’s very specific “suspension of disbelief” voice

“That looks like a plot point that’s almost been abandoned” Tom is amazing

Oh, Luke, you’ve just set yourself up for another Pocket scenario

“I just wanted the pussy” Tom

“You know it’s casual” does she? Because she’s moving halfway around the world for him

“Wow, that sounds very transactional to me” I mean… yeah. Yeah, it does

“Hey, let’s not blame someone with a disorder, shall we?” I love Sam holy shit

Tom singing!!!!!!!!!!!! He sounds so creepy??????? He’s doing an amazing job

“~I just realised there’s no cable on this mic at all~” Tom has been freed!

Oh my god I love seeing Tom so happy

Tom’s villains are always amazing for a lot of reasons but especially his physicality???

Tom is having so much fun

AJ’s expression when Tom puts their faces close together is amazing; it’s like, “I have no idea what the fuck you’re doing but I’m going with it”

“Poor little teddy bear Christmas man.” I love Tom trying to bring back the title (“I have so many names and that is not one of them”)

LUKE!!!! (his Little Krampus movements are amazing)

Also Snowdrop :(

AJ just staring blankly into the camera is so fucking creepy

Luke good fucking god

Thought we were going to get a kiss for a second there…

Sam singing!!!!

I love the audience singalongs!

AJ singing!!!!

Holy shit I love this play

Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates!

[madameaug]

Good Kisser ||

Pairing: Erik x Lola

Synopsis: A performance to remember. (part 1)

R&B's sweetheart Dolores 'Lola' Montez walked elegantly on the carpet. Her motions were timid as she waved and smiled at the paparazzi. Lola was dressed by a rising designer, her good friend, who she lovingly called 'Mookie'. Mookie tailored the perfect dress for the annual Grammys. Her bust was pushed up to the rim but tastefully covered by a bedazzled flower arrangement. Her thigh peaked out from the high slit.

It was moments like these that she found herself reminiscing of her humble Baptist roots. Less than a year ago she was singing 'Joyful, Joyful' in a stuffy wool lined robe during Sunday service. She was blissfully unaware that a music representative from EMPIRE was attending the service. The agent would waste no time getting Lola and her parents over to the label to talk business. Getting in the studio for the first time she wasted no time writing an R&B track. Tonight she was joining the stage with Teyana Taylor, Summer Walker, and Muni Long for a musical contribution to Usher.

Her manager, with a winded lecture explained that this was the time to shed the 'innocent' look. Rnb was about melodies and sensuality. Heartbreaks and emotions. She had the vocals down pack, and a dedicated fanbase to take her far. Her manager and label wanted to shed this church girl image. Lola needed to look confident, and more importantly feel it. It was only right for her to bring the source of her confidence, Erik Stevens.

Standing directly behind her Erik had a calm presence she loved. He too was styled by Mookie. He looked polished from head to toe. Lola would never admit this outloud but Erik had a good sense of fashion. He never looked about of place, and new what colors suited his complexion best. And he was never afraid to change his hair do. His locs that had had all throughout his 8 years in the military were substituted for waves. His scruffy beard was clipped into a goatee. Standing firm at 6'1 he was a magnet for the paparazzi.

Lola held her hand out for him, he grasped it with no hesitation. He could feel the unease through her clammy hands. He offered a reassuring squeeze. A silent promise he wasn't going anywhere. He was here for her.

Erik looked at the antsy journalist setting up along the carpet. Hollering for the passing celebrities attention. Compared to watching these award ceremonies on tv, it was alot more chaotic in person. It was a constant buzz surrounding him. One of the many traits he could thank his ruthless training for. He could sort out bullshit.

"Lola darling. You look absolutely stunning!"

"Thank you, " Lola sincerely accepted the compliment. "I had to step out of my comfort zone."

"I can see that." Her comment was directed at Erik. He smiled, quickly redirecting the conversation back to Lola. Curiosity taking over, the journalist asked foundational questions to Erik.

"I'm an Oakland kid. Humble beginnings."

"Please tell me you have a single older brother." Her eyes screamed attraction. Her hips popped over to one side.

"I'm an only child." His voice was firm. Lola's smile didn't falter as she watched the journalist flirt. She wasn't the jealous type- at least she had a good way of hiding it. Her hand trailed to Erik's chest. An unmistakable display of their relationship. Her French nails, lovingly rubbed his body, Erik chuckled.

Taking her hand, Erik looked down at Lola. Brining her hand to his lips. He kissed her knuckle admiring the beauty in front of him. The flashing lights reflected off her dress. She was glowing, and her almond eyes were luring Erik in. So much so he forgot he was standing in front of the journalist and her camera man.

"Let's move along." Lola whispered so that only Erik could hear. She waved goodbye to the journalist guiding Erik down the carpet yet again.

<3

The countdown was on as Lola got the final touches to her stage makeup. She could hear the final beats of 'Confessions' fading. Hopping out of the chair, she whistled. A breathing technique her vocal coach taught her. The stage manager led her to her entrance spot, and she heard the metronome start to tick.

Erik sat in the audience. He was thoroughly impressed with the previous song selections. Teyana Taylor sung Confessions, Summer Walker did My Boo, and Muni Long did Love in This Club. Now to close out the dedication was Lola with Good Kisser.

The transition was smooth as the lights dimmed and the crowd got quiet. The stage was glowing red as Good Kisser played. Lola appeared at the stop of the staircase. She was posed as her back was to the audience. Her elegant gown she wore on the carpet was gone. She was in a skin tight body suit. Although the suit covered more skin than her gown, her body left nothing to the imagination. Every curve she had was fit snuggly into the outfit. She swung her hips before turning around to face the audience. The chair in the center of the stage was illuminated as she walked over to it. Each movement was deliberate and hypnotic.

Erik hadn't even realized he was now leaning in his seat. As Lola sat in the chair she hiked one leg on the chair. Her fingers tracing over her thigh. She sung beautifully as her eyes followed the camera on the stage. Male dancers joined her. Each were tall and fit. There shirts were off with plain black slacks.

The performance reached a new level of intensity as one dancer got close to Lola. The choreography was sensual. Bodies were barely apart as Lola leaned her back against his chest. His hands rocked her hips to the rythm, and on cue he spun her around. His face dipped into the crevise of her neck. Giving the illusion that he was kissing up on her.

Erik's posture became more tense. Sure he knew about the choreogh being intimate, but it was different seeing it in person. The entire audience was in a trance, Usher himself standing up giving his approval. Erik could only hope that his less than enthusiastic expression was not captured from the several cameras.

"Man, she's killing it." A voice behind Erik stated.

"She is." Erik smiled looking at the stage again. The choreography growing more provocative. More male dancers surrounded her as she slid down in the middle. Hands running down their abdomen. Her hands crossed in front of her as she crawled on the stage. Each movement her body grooved to the rhythm.

"What a show."

Sitting back in the chair Lola's feet hung off the side. Not a single note faltered as she danced. The same dancer from earlier came up to her. Holding her heel. Face riding up her thigh. With her finger Lola motioned for the man to get closer, Lola swung her leg. Shooing the dancer away. The song was almost over as she swished her hips. Erik could see the camera aimed directly at her behind. Catching every subtle sway of her butt. To conclude the song with a raspy run. She then did the final four-eight count with her backup dancers. She whined her hips. Embracing every moment of having the attention in the room.

Going into her final pose she remained still as the lights dimmed ot black. Not a second later the audience erupted in thunderous applause.

Erik was escorted behind the stage. Everyone he passed just spoke in praises about Lola's performance. His heart swelled hearing the compliments. Once he reached her dressing room he knocked, waiting for her sweet voice to respond.

"Erik! What did you think?" She engulfed the man.

"You were amazing."

"You think so." She rested her head on his shoulder. Careful not to get her foundation on his shirt.

"I almost had to snatch ole boy up." His tone was playful, with an edge of seriousness.

"Jealous much?"

"Not at all." In a swift motion, he lifted Lola underneath her thighs. He didn’t walk far before putting her down. The couple enjoyed each others company outside from the many eyes on the other side of the door.

“Do you want to go out tonight?” Lola asked, she got a text from Summer with an address to the official Grammy after party.

“If you want to.”

“Are you sure, I know parties can be overstimulating for you.”

“Yeah I’ll be good. Let’s go.”

[cloudlessly-light]

hi! idk if you're accepting prompts, but if so, would you ever write some smut about milf and dilf hotchniss in CME era? maybe they're in a secret relationship or just some straight up hotchniss smut (whatever floats your boat) 🙈

Title: Sweet love Summary: They don’t work together anymore and he would be damned if he wasn’t going to take the chance for them to maybe finally be something more than a secret kept in the dark. Word count: 3,8k   Rating: Explicit Warnings: Smut, dirty talk, massages, grinding, Aaron is a tease

He comes back soon after Dave’s wedding and it’s a relief unlike any other. He had planned to move back as soon as he heard the news that Scratch was dead but life happened, Jack had school and he had responsibilities. So they stay until the end of the school year before moving back home. He doesn’t want to go back to the FBI, he’s found new joys, found a new life, an easier life. But he gets to come back to DC, something both he and Jack had longed for. He gets to see his team, his found family, again.

And Emily is there.

It’s easy falling back into old habits with her, almost too easy. For years, they had a friendship with just a hint of something more, secret trysts hidden behind the walls of her apartment. They knew things couldn’t become any more serious than that, falling into bed with your colleague and subordinate was bad enough so they stay stuck somewhere between wanting more and wanting less.

But they don’t work together anymore and he would be damned if he wasn’t going to take the chance for them to maybe finally be something more than a secret kept in the dark.

So he asks her to dinner and when she accepts with a smile and a simple yes he knows that this was it, this was their chance. She shows up in a black dress and dark hair swept up in a simple bun and he finds that he can’t keep his eyes off her for the entire night. He listens as she tells him about the last two years, about Scratch, the Chameleon and Reid going to prison and Steven Walkers death and he realizes just how hard these last two years has been on her.

“Do you regret it?” He finds himself asking and the question seems to confuse her.

“Regret what?” She asks with furrowed eyebrows and a slightly pursed lip, he wonders if she’s aware that it’s a habit she has, one that he adores.

“Coming back, taking over as unit chief.” He explains, he knew he’d never be able to repay her for what she had to endure with Scratch because of him. As he waits for her response he finds himself holding his breath, preparing for the worst. But she smiles and shakes her head and he feels himself relaxing.

“No.” She takes his hand over the table, her fingers warm and soft against the top of his hand. “I would have done anything to protect you and Jack, and to get you back.”

It’s safe to say that neither of them look back after that night.

He notices the grey hairs a few months into their relationship, he notices but he doesn’t care. After all he had specks of grey in his hair and his beard whenever he let it grow out, he didn’t care if she did. He always found her beautiful. But then one day she walks in with a bottle of black hair dye and he immediately feels the urge to throw the box away.

“What?” She bites her bottom lip as she notices him glaring at the box on the bathroom counter and for a second she thinks he’s upset because maybe he doesn’t want a woman who already has grey hair and the dye in front of her was just proof of her getting older.

“Don’t dye it.” The words come out rougher than he intends and her eyebrow arches at the tone. “What I mean is, do it if you want to, but don’t do it because you think you have to.” He explains himself and he sees her visibly relaxing. “I love the grey, it’s sexy sweetheart.”

“Really?” The smile on her lips is a mix of teasing and disbelief and then he pulls her into his chest and she laughs.

“Really.” His voice drops low as he strokes his fingers through the black and grey hair. “So fucking sexy.”

She never dyes her hair again after that.

They’re happy, almost blissfully so as she continues to work at the Bureau and he takes up teaching, somehow finding a balance that works for them. But that doesn’t mean that she doesn’t stay at the office late, and travells when needed. The days were still long, and she had never wanted the red tape and bureaucracy that came with the job. It is tiring, and when she gets to Aaron’s place after a particularly long day she feels exhausted.

He's already in bed when she walks through the door, and she smiles at the sight of him in a shirt and boxers, reading glasses on his nose. He was always so effortlessly sexy.

“Hi honey.” She leans down to kiss him and he gently grabs the back of her neck to pull her closer for a moment.

“Hi.” He kisses her again before letting go and she stands up. “Are you alright?” He looks at her as she cranes her neck and rolls her shoulders with a grunt.

“Yeah, just tense, it’s been a long day.” She offers him a smile before moving toward their bathroom.

“You know, I’m a licensed massage therapist.”

His words make her stop mid step to turn back to face him. She knows the disbelief is clear on her face and judging by his amused smirk he finds her reaction humorous.

“You’re a what now?” She leans against the doorway with her arms crossed as she waits for him to tell her that he’s joking, but it never comes.

“I needed something to do while we were in victim’s protection, and I thought hey why not.” He shrugs, like that wasn’t the last thing she’d ever expect from him. “Is that really so hard to believe?” He chuckles at the way her mouth opens and closes repeatedly, like she doesn’t know what to say.

“Actually, yes!” She pushes off from the doorframe and moves to straddle him on the bed. “Why haven’t you shared this information before?”

“It’s never come up.” His hands land on her hips to pull her closer.

“So you’re saying that my incredibly hot, sexy, smart boyfriend, who just happens to be amazing in bed, is also able to get the knots out of my back?” She grins when he blushes at her compliments.

“Yes sweetheart, that’s what I’m saying.” His tone is teasing, his face close to smug and she tries to glare at him but a smile still tugs at her lips. “Do you want me to give you a massage?”  

“Yes, please.” Her words are whispered against his lips before she kisses him, a soft sigh leaving her as his grip on her tightens slightly as he opens his mouth to her demanding tongue.

He makes a sound low in his throat from the way her fingers grasp his hair as her hips move subtly against his. She always had this effect on him, he could spend hours kissing her, to make up for all those years when he had wanted to kiss her but couldn’t and tonight was no different. Reluctantly, he pulls away and her forehead leans against his.

“If you keep this up we both know I won’t give you a massage.” He mumbles lowly and she nods, eyes still closed.

“You’ll be giving me something else instead.” She teases and he chuckles in return.

“Dirty girl.” He pinches her behind and she laughs, something breathy and low that makes it clear that she’s just as affected by him as he is by her. “Get undressed and lay down, sweetheart.”

For a moment she debates with herself but then she feels the dull ache in her shoulder, much more obvious now when he wasn’t distracting her and she stood up to remove her slacks. As she got undressed Aaron got up and headed toward his home office. When he came back he was carrying a bottle of oil and a lighter and wordlessly started to light a few candles around the bedroom, creating a soft, warm glow around them when he turned the lights down low.

By the time he was done, Emily was on the bed, watching him with dark eyes and a curious smile.

“I’m just setting the mood.” His explanation was unnecessary but she still nodded. She had decided to undress completely, not feeling the need for underwear and his eyes moved over her exposed legs and backside slowly, his tongue moving out to wet his lip as he did. “You’re so beautiful, my gorgeous girl.”

His words made her smile. She knew she didn’t look the same as she did when they first met, she was softer, muscles not as toned, skin not as firm, but he always made her feel effortlessly beautiful. He was still handsome, almost unfairly so with specks of gray in his hair and rough stubble on his face. He was still strong, but he was softer too and she found that she liked that more than when he was slimmer. There was nothing better than to be in his arms, his body comforting, his chest her safe space.

As she gets lost in thought, he finishes up by putting on some music and then grabs the oil before joining her on the bed, his legs on either side of her thighs.

“Now this would be easier if we had a table,” He starts softly as he drips the oil in his hands and rubs his palms together, “but this will work just fine for tonight. So relax and let me take care of you.” He kisses her shoulder gently before straightening.

His hands are warm as he slowly strokes them along her back, up and down, oiling her skin up and putting just enough pressure against her body for her to sink into the bed with a low hum. He starts with her lower back, rubbing and pressing his thumbs into her muscles and slowly working out a few knots he finds there. He focuses on her body, remembering the classes he took as he shifts above her.

“God, you’re good at this.” She groans as he moves higher and quickly finding the muscle that’s been bothering her all day.

“You didn’t tell me it was this bad.” He chastises her gently as he works over the tense muscle in her shoulder, focusing in on it.

“You didn’t tell me you knew how to do this!” She argues but quickly quiets down when his thumb find the pressure point that shoots pain straight up her neck. “Jesus.”

“Is it too much?” He lets up but she’s quick to shake her head.

“No, it feels so good.” Her words are muffled, her face halfway into the bed and he smiles at the way her eyes close.

He continues to massage her upper back until her muscles are soft and pliant under his palms, her skin slightly red from where he’s touched her.

“Don’t move.” He whispers before moving further down the bed until he’s standing at the edge of it and gently grabs her foot. When he starts to massage the arch of it she makes a sound low in her throat and he catches the way her eyes roll back in her head.

“Fuck, that is fantastic.” She groans and she hears his chuckle.

“It’s those shoes of yours.” He continues to rub her foot and then slowly moves up her calf.

“But they’re sexy.” She knows he agrees when he doesn’t argue with her. His touch is firm, his fingers warm against her skin and as he moves higher up her leg she feels her body responding to it. Instead of relaxing as he pushes two thumbs into her thigh she feels tension in her stomach and a slight ache between her legs. She was used to him having this power over her but this time it was unexpected.

When he urges her to spread her legs a little wider to be able to get to her inner thigh she bites back a moan, his hands dangerously close to her center. And then he stops and moves on to her other leg, starting on her foot and slowly moving higher up. She tries to stay still, but when his fingers dig into her hamstrings she grinds into the bed subconsciously, her clit thrumming from his touch.

Aaron smiled to himself. He had noticed immediately when her soft breathing had become more labored and her body tensed just slightly. But he didn’t stop, instead he made sure to touch just a little higher than necessary, rub just shy of where her thighs connected and watched as she tried to control her body’s urges. When he moved on to her other leg he wanted to laugh at the way she slumped in disappointment, but made sure to keep quiet. He had the advantage of being able to watch her while she was facing away from him, unable to see the way his eyes had darkened as he admired her body and touched her everywhere he wanted. So he continued to tease her, spent more time than necessary when he noticed her body’s reaction and then moving to another spot.

By the time he was done with her other thigh, her hands were fisting the sheets and she felt like her body was on fire from the heat of his touch. Her skin tingled from his hands, her clit was thrumming and she wanted nothing more than to feel his tongue on her.

“Turn around.” His voice was thick with want and it’s the first time she notices that he wasn’t completely oblivious to her struggle. She turns around and her breathing hitches at the dark look in his eyes. But then he takes her hand in his and starts to massage it, completely ignoring the way she’s looking at him in disbelief.

“Baby-” She starts but he quickly shushes her.

“Relax.” He bites back a smirk when she huffs but she doesn’t pull her hand away or says anything else so he continues, moving from her hand to her lower arm before digging his thumb into her bicep where he finds another knot. In his periphery he sees her other hand move from the bed to rest on her stomach and then slowly creep down her body. “Don’t you dare.”

His warning tone makes her stop and she looks at him through long lashes.

“Touch me Aaron.” She doesn’t get the response she wants when he simply grabs her wrist and holds it to the bed.

“I am touching you.” He says simply and she glares at him but he’s unphased and simply continues to work on the knot that soon gives way under his touch. “You need this.” He moves to sit on her other side and grabs the hand he just minutes ago held to the bed.

“I need you more.” She tells him simply and this time he can’t hold back the smirk that never fails to drive her wild and annoyed at the same time.

“Be patient.”

She tries, she really does but when he moves from her arm to instead start to rub her thigh she can’t help the low whine that escapes her lips. His fingers dig into the muscle of her thigh and she swears he’s found some weird direct line to her clit that pulses at his touch.

“Fuck, please honey.” She gasps and to her surprise and delight he spreads her legs wider and then removes his shirt and then his boxers. His cock is straining, the tip glistening in the low light and she whimpers at the sight.

“You’re so wet.” His eyes flitter from between her legs to her face, his hands moving from her hips, up her stomach and finally resting on her chest. When he traps her nipples between his fingers she moans softly and her legs spread wider in response.

“Fuck me, Aaron.” She pleads as she reaches for him, letting out a sound of contentment when he leans over her and catches her lips in a kiss. His cock moves against her clit, his shaft rubbing against his as he grinds his hips down against hers slowly, while he steals the breath from her lungs.

“We should really practice your self-control.” He teases against her lips as her legs wrap around his waist, trying to get him closer.

“You’re such a tease.” She bites his bottom lip and pulls slightly, earning a groan from him and his hips buckle into her. “You know I’m getting you back for this right?”

“I can’t wait, sweetheart.” He whispers against her skin as he kisses down her jaw and neck, his teeth sinking into the soft flesh of her shoulder before soothing the bite with his tongue. All the while he continues to grind against her, letting her feel his shaft rub against her swollen clit while keeping her trapped between his body and the bed.  “I’m going to make you come like this one night. Going to make you come while you grind on my lap and have you clench around nothing.” When all he gets is a low whine in return he knows that she’s getting desperate.

He shifts slightly, lifts himself up on one arm while grabbing her jaw with his other hand to make her look up at him. Slowly, he moves his hips enough to align himself with her and then pushes the tip of his cock inside of her. The gasp that leaves her at the stretch of him drives him wild, it always did and he watches her intently as she takes him deeper, and deeper, until his hips are pressed against hers and she’s jaw slacked and eyes hazy.  

“How do you always feel so fucking good inside me?” She breaths and buckles into him, needing him to move and he sucks in a breath.

“It’s like you’re made for me.” He lets go of her jaw to hold himself up on both arms, framing her body with his and then he pulls back and thrusts forward quickly without warning, earning a guttural moan from her. “Is that what you wanted Em? Tell me what you want.” His tone is rough, graveled and low and she feels goosebumps erupt on her skin in response.

“I want you to fuck me, I want you to make me come.” He was the only man who’s ever made her feel like this, desperate and needy and she loved that she could let go like this with him. He loved it too, the ego boost, the trust she had in him to be able to relax, and he would take his time proving that to her. Tonight it wouldn’t be slow though, she knew that, knew that as soon as he let go of his self-restraint he would fuck her hard enough for the headboard to slam into the wall and she’d have to muffle her screams.

“Beg me sweetheart, beg for me.” He moves shallowly, pushes his tip in and out of her and groans at the way she clenches around him each time.

“Please, Aaron please fuck me, please let me feel you.” The words are barely out before he’s thrusting forward, hitting deep inside of her and she cries out.

“Touch yourself.” He lifts one of her legs to rest on his shoulder to be able to fuck into her even deeper as her back arches and her eyes rolls back in her head. His eyes stay trained on her hand as she starts to rub her clit, he watches with dark eyes as she touches herself and the way he disappears inside of her repeatedly.

“Jesus, baby don’t stop.” She gets out through heavy pants. The hand not between her legs are fisting the sheets in some vain attempt to keep grounded. The tension in her stomach that had been building steadily was spreading through every nerve ending, making her brain hazy as her body chased its release. Her fingers sped up in time with his thrusts, and when she looked up at him she whimpered at the look of want on his face.

“Do it, fucking come on my cock.” He grunted as he felt her walls tighten around his cock. They had always been like this, insatiable, close to feral when they were together. She had some kind of power over him, what she wanted she got and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Her moans were getting louder, needier and she covered her mouth with her hand but he was quick to remove it.

“I want to hear how you scream for me.” He urges her and she just barely remembered that Jack was staying with a friend before Aaron pinched one of her nipples and tugged on it, sending her crashing into an orgasm.

She cries out, his name mixing with curses and moans as her body trembles and her eyesight blackens out as white hot pleasure runs through her. Her release sets of his and he groans loudly as his hips stutter and pleasure tingles up his spine. He leans over her, buries his face in the crook of her neck and bites down hard enough to leave a mark as he comes as deep inside of her as he can, his body pressed against hers as he twitches slightly.

Her hand rubs up and down his back as they both come down, her fingers trailing lazy patterns across his skin as he catches his breath between slow kisses against her neck until he rolls off her.

“Is this what the experts would call a happy ending?” She grins into his shoulder and he barks out a laugh.

“I would say this is definitely a happy ending.” He presses a kiss to her forehead and then sighs. “How about we change the sheets, because they’re covered in oil, then we take a shower?”

She hums lowly, in an ideal world she wouldn’t have to get up but he was right, her skin was shining from oil, the bedding was covered in it and she nods.

“And then once we’re back in bed, I think we should take advantage of the empty house and have sex again. But that’s just me.” She gets out of the bed and winks at him. “You coming?”

“I think we both know you’ll be the one coming.”

She didn’t argue, after all he was right.

[rocknrollsalad]

rating: G cw: creepy christmas ornaments, pranking each other tags: steddie, platonic stobin, Buckingham, everyone lives together in this apartment, sometime in the future, a cursed version of elf on the shelf word count: 999

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt "ornament"

ornament inspiration here

“What the hell is that!?!”

“Santa,” Eddie responded, annoyed Steve would dare to ask.

“No, Santa is a jolly, fat man. That is…I don’t know, stuff of nightmares.”

Eddie turned the face of his pipe cleaner St. Nick to face him as he reassured the ornament it wasn’t a nightmare. The painted-on face and sad eyes made it look like the ornament disagreed.

“Do you often dream about old men?” Eddie asked and shared a silent laugh with the ornament.

The thing looked terrifying enough but Eddie interacting with it like it was real made it worse. Steve would take a demogorgon over this thing any day. At least he knew how to get rid of a demogorgon.

Ignoring the question meant to bait him, Steve addressed the real problem. “That’s not going there. Not in our tree.”

“He’s the centerpiece, Steven. This is his holiday,” Eddie scoffed.

“Fine,” he said, stomping off to take a shower. Eddie could enjoy the few hours he had with it because the instant his back was turned, Steve was going to bury that thing in the woods. Perhaps learn a few things about vampires or demons to prevent it from coming back to life.

No one talks about this when they make a big fuss over moving in together. It’s always “get used to snoring” or “you’ll never have any private time” like they weren’t piling four people into this cramped apartment. No person, magazine, or advice column said anything about dealing with someone’s terrifying holiday decor.

They also don’t talk about what to do when that same bit of decor is on your pillow, tucked in and cozy.

“Eddie!” Steve bellowed.

Robin popped into the doorway, “He went out to get some candy canes to hang on the tree, said it was real important to the holiday look. Chris went with him.”

“Great. You up for planning a murder,” Steve motioned to the creepy Santa “sleeping” on his pillow.

“Murder wouldn’t be enough, we need to burn the bed,” Robin shuddered and walked back out of the room.

Steve followed, thankful someone was on his side here. “Wanna go to the library and look up what to do with it?”

“Please. Chrissy wants to make him reindeer friends and a wife.”

“Oh god, not her too.”

“If anyone was on Eddie's side here, it’d be her.”

It didn’t take them long to hatch the groundbreaking plan of hiding the Santa. They’d lie and say they put it back. Steve would make vague threats about it going in the garbage disposal if it was in his bed again and everyone would move on. Eddie didn’t believe the lie and dismantled the whole tree.

When Steve went to bed that night he felt a bit guilty but if Eddie wouldn’t listen to reason, this was the only course of action. Steve could not have that thing haunting him from the Christmas tree for a whole month. This was what had to be done.

The next morning, feeling a bit too safe, Steve trudged to the bathroom to get ready for work. Going through the motions, he opened the cabinet to get his toothbrush only to find it in the arms of the stupid, awful Santa. Forcing Steve to touch it and the decades of dust caked into it's bristles. He hated every part of it. Time to do something bigger.

So Steve took it to work with him, left it there on purpose, and refused to answer questions about it. The next day it was buckled into the driver’s seat of his car with broken candy cane bits all around. The hook of a candy cane had been sucked into a point and left in Santa’s hand. Steve wasn't the only one raising the bar.

For their next move, Robin went to three different stores to find red pipe cleaners. They chopped them to bits and left them on the dinner table. A few cotton balls were also sacrificed for Santa's beard and it looked like they'd ended things once and for all. Something Steve wished he could have done for real but Eddie came with so few things. Ruining one, regardless of how terrifying it was, seemed like a step too far. Just hide it until Eddie forgot it existed, that was better, right?

Two nights later dinner was the little bits Robin had staged and the actual Santa. Steve was sure the delay in reveal was so Eddie could try and find one of those silver domes to put over this “meal”.

Steve walked the plate into the “office” they’d created in the dining room to give nerds space for their hobbies. Eddie sat smug at the head of the table, the “I’ve been expecting you” was loud but not spoken.

“I’ve come to call a truce,” Steve said, putting the plate down on the table, suddenly wishing Eddie had found the dome so he could hide the awful face.

“You forgot the white flag,” he said with an arched eyebrow.

“Don’t push it.”

“What’s the deal, then? Santa gets prime spot in the tree? Right at eye level? Oh! No, he's the star on top!”

“Counter offer; I let Robin chop the real thing up.”

“Okay. What if, like the real Santa, we put him up Christmas Eve before bed and he stays until the new year?”

Steve thought the offer over, he didn’t like it but if they were coming to a mutually beneficial agreement then he’d have to give a little. For all his people-pleasing ways, Steve was in a safe space so he dragged out the internal debate.

“Fine but he has to go on the side, I don’t want that to be the first thing I see when I come home.”

Eddie didn’t debate, he showed his cards immediately and lit up like the very tree they were talking about. He jumped out of this chair and grabbed Santa, cradling it like a precious animal. “Deal!”

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

Happy Now? | Captain Rogers & Agent Brat AU | Steve Rogers x Reader | Drabble - 500words

If Steve thinks he's getting away with giving you a shitty mission he has another thing coming…

Warnings: Bratty reader & Brat Tamer Steve, implied previous sexual content, kissing

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist | Captain Rogers & Agent Brat AU | Steve Rogers

You followed Steve out of the briefing room, taking an extra half step for each of his long strides.

“Get back here!” You shouted, ignoring the ringing echo of your voice in the wide metal atrium of the Avengers tower.

“Agent, please take your mission pack and study it quietly.” He tossed a quick glance over his shoulder and you caught a glimpse of his newly bearded cheeks, stubble that had grown out during your last mission together and the following two weeks stuck in a safe house in the Alps.

“Steven Grant Rogers, I’m talking to you.” You grabbed a pen from another passing agent and chucked it as hard as you could at his retreating back, internally screaming when it merely bounced off of his shield.

From the incline of his head you were almost 100% sure he was laughing at you.

Picking up your pace you followed him away from the meeting rooms and across the building to the offices, chasing after him as he strode past your colleagues, touching his fingers to his forehead in a casual salute.

You caught up to him outside of the lifts, watching him bounce on his toes slightly as he whistled to himself.

“Steve!” You muscled past the other waiting agents to stand directly in front of him, crossing your arms and glaring up at him in frustration.

“Oh, hello Agent.” He smiled, “lovely to see you here too, going up?”

The doors pinged behind you and Steve moved you backwards into the waiting lift.

“This one’s full.” He said, firmly, blocking anyone else from entering, his smile morphed from his PR friendly pose to the hungry grin you were used to. He said nothing, simply watched you as you paced back and forth in front of the rapidly changing view as the lift shot up to the living quarters.

“Steve, you can’t bench me, you know I’m a good agent, I don’t understand it, we just got back from another mission. Do you think because we’re sleeping together I can’t perform as well as other agents? Or as well as I did before?” You ranted, waving your hands and barely stopping to look at him until he blocked your path.

“It’s hot when you talk back.” He whispered, running his thumb over your bottom lip.

“Rogers you had better not be trying something right now.” You shoved at him, but he caught your hands and pulled you back, crushing his lips to yours. His kiss was fierce, burning as his beard rubbed against the soft skin of your cheeks, a reminder of how much closer you’d been before returning to the bustle of the tower. Instinctively you wrapped your arms around his neck before remembering your ire and pushing him away again.

His smile was still plastered to his face, only slightly ruffled by your rejection.

“Seriously, you can’t bench me and then -”

“I told you to check your mission pack.”

“Steve, stop being an asshole.”

“Honey, stop being a brat”

He pulled the black folder from your hands and flipped past the first few pages to the confidential file fitted snugly between the usual boring beige pages of desk work that he’d handed out earlier.

“Happy now?”

You nodded, jumping back into his arms and placing kisses over his bearded cheeks

[katyahina]

Demon's Souls NPC refs by Moonlight Ruin / Steven

This is a reshare of this ( x ) reference by Steven on Bluesky, with their permission since many people here don't have BS anyways! They've made this post to show characters' ages since Demon's Souls has a slighter for age like this, but it is ALSO a finally good look at their faces!

This is super useful! .....and turns out that Patches in Demon's Souls never had a small black beard like we all thought, it's been a lightning mistake all along and Steven confirmed it. @_@

Bonus:

A cut content character Tell All, 55 years old according to Steven! Although this character is cut, she has hella things ready and still accessible through datamining ( x ) ( x )

This game is 15 years old and this is the first time I see a proper look at its NPCs. And this post is like 5 days ago. @heraldofcrow @val-of-the-north for some reason the curse of absent data is getting lifted recently!!! We're finally free