#nobody said it was easy no one ever said it would be this hard ; oh take me back to the start (garland&lucrezia)

[lucreziasredwyne]

who: @garlandhightower​ (semi-flashback thread) where: the solar of garland hightower within the castle of highgarden, prior to everyone’s arrival to highgarden.  when: shortly following omer and garland’s disastrous interaction. 

her skirts swished around the marble on the floor, hands clasped before her before she even entered his chambers - was she nervous? no. yes, quite obviously by the looks of it. by what she had heard, the conversation did not take place entirely well; no, it would have been better if such a conversation had not occurred at all by the sounds of it. two men so stubborn in their pride and their own ego; how was it ever to work? a part of her wonders whether she ought to have been there, to try and defuse the situation - and yet still, she knew some things needed to be settled between the pair of them. 

the lord of oldtown and the fox of brightwater had a history that went far beyond her, far before her. she needed to have some trust in that. 

her own mind had been made up - no doubt to the creeping disappointment of her kin. whilst their relationship was filled with differences, there was no denying what his presence had been in her life; and she could hope that her presence had helped him some regard too. that it was more than the ties of blood and family that made them want to remain in one another’s lives, but it was because they genuinely wanted to. whilst lucrezia was not a ward of house hightower, garland had taken his responsibilities as her eldest male relative seriously. a difficult matter, when she was a ruling lady in her own right. the waters they tread were sometimes murky, clouded in miscommunication and the want to give up - and there were times where their stubbornness only bounced on one another. 

she remained stood in his entrance to his solar for a moment, noting the winding staircase that made it’s way up to his desk where he no doubt would be planted. he would be stressed, and therefore, the books would be piling. “lulu!” came a shrieking voice, and she visibly jumped as she looked up toward where she knew the voice came from. his blasted raven. she wished it would fly itself into the crackling hearth someday. “i am coming upstairs.” she called, her hand on the railing as she lifted the bottom of her skirts, taking the winding spiral staircase up to the part of his solar where he had banished himself. 

she stood at the arch for a moment, hand remaining on the railing of the staircase. whilst it felt as though her chest would burst from how much she wanted to tell him, it felt as though her lips and her eyes had been tainted with a sense of shame and guilt for the way she had destroyed herself to ultimately understand. she did this for the gods, as much as she did this for herself; it was the way to make things right. still, she could tell by the look on his face that he was utterly perplexed. that this had seemingly come from nowhere. 

she should have said something. how could she have said something? she should have said something. “hello.” she spoke, her voice somewhat weary as she looked upon him; both of them looking at one another in the aftermath of what feels like a slap in the face for the lord of oldtown. she wordlessly stepped forward, removing some of the pile of books from his desk, to a space on his desk so they did not teeter and pile. “i wanted to come and see you.” she spoke over the pile of books, continuing to decrease the pile. 

[fakehelper]

remember the days when every tv show got 172 gifset edits of The Scientist lyrics?

[eukariote]

its just me and the scientist by coldplay against the world

[georgieharrisons]

[vivwritesfics]

(Oh My God) They Were Roommates

Chapter Thirteen - Worlds Away

Lando Norris and Y/N L/N were teammates. Tension had been between from the minute they started driving together and, when it only got worse, McLaren CEO Zac Brown decides there's only one solution: Have them live together.

1.5K

I'm gonna preface this by saying I'm a McLaren girlie, but this is the final chapter! Thanks for the support on this series, guys and, as always, blurb requests are open

Series Masterlist

You'd think, now that they weren't teammates anymore, they could date openly. She and Lando could finally be together, now that she was driving for Mercedes and he was still with McLaren.

But things weren't that simple. They couldn't just be together, not without putting their careers on the line. For some people, it might have been worth it. But this was Formula One. Both of them knew they couldn't risk losing their seats.

Now that they weren't living in the same apartment, hooking up was impossible for them. She moved away, moved closer the Brackley. Their Formula One careers kept them so busy that they didn't have time for each other.

Y/N missed Lando. She missed him a fuck tonne. Ever since their affair started, she hadn't had anyone else. It had only been Lando. He was the only one that she wanted. He was the one that she couldn't have.

Lando missed her just as much as she missed him. He stayed in their apartment for just a little longer before finding a place of his own. There were several nights where he would sit in her old room, back against the door as he clutched the last hoodie of his that she wore. He hadn't washed it yet, couldn't bring himself to.

The next time they saw each other was a Grand Prix weekend. It was an incredibly emotional reunion, and Y/N couldn't stop herself from running into his arms. "I've missed you," she whispered as she held him so fucking tight.

Lando had his eyes closed as he held her just as tight. For once they didn't care about the cameras around them. He whispered something in her ear, something that had her shaking her head.

They went their separate ways, her walking towards the Mercedes garage as Lando went to McLaren. She missed the orange, she realised as she turned to watch him.

Suddenly somebody intercepted her, linked their arm through hers. "How are you doing?" Asked Max as he walked with her.

She looked up at him, glaring. "What're you getting at, Max?" She asked, her tone harsh.

"Look, I know about you and... him. I just wanna know how you're doing with the move," he answered.

He had led her behind the Mercedes garage, hidden away from the cameras. "I miss him," she whispered, her eyes looking down at the floor. "So fucking much, Max. I really fucking miss him." Tears sprung to her eyes and Max couldn't stop himself from pulling her close.

She kept her feet still, but she let her body fall against is. "There there," Max mumbled as he patted her awkwardly leaning body. "You know what they say, right? If you love something-"

"Let it go. If it doesn't come back, it was never really yours," she answered as she stood up straight and wiped under her eyes. "I'm trying, Max. I'm really fucking trying, but it's so damn hard. There's nobody but him, and I can't have him."

"Focus on racing," he said. "You're gonna need to if you wanna beat me."

It was strangely reassuring, and it got her moving into the Mercedes garage. Beating Max was motivation enough.

Letting Lando go wasn't going to be easy, she knew that. But it especially wasn't going to be easy when they were so close on track.

Y/N on track was a lot different to Y/N off track. Especially now that she was in the Mercedes. She was determined to get her first win, and nothing was going to stop her.

The more the season went on, the more she saw Lando as a distraction. She still loved him, still wanted nobody but him. But now she wanted the win more than that. Y/N on track didn't care about her feelings for Lando. Y/N on track was hungry for the win.

Australia 2021. She didn't know which McLaren was behind her, not until her engineer told her. He was trying to overtake on a corner, but their wheels made contact. She went spinning into the gravel, left dead last.

The both of them had to crawl back to the pits for a new set of tyres. The both of them were furious, the both of them thought the other should have left space.

They didn't talk about it, didn't address it. They didn't talk very much anymore anyway. No longer did they run into each others arms, and their conversations were brief. You could hardly tell they were once friends.

It happened again in the next race. This time she tried to make a move on him, but it didn't work and both of them found themselves out of the race. Fuck, were they mad. They scream expletives down the radio before climbing out of their undrivable cars.

On the third time, there was a confrontation. They both climbed out of their cars and began screaming at each other, pointing accusing fingers.

They wanted to hurt each other. She was pissed about the crash and he was pissed about the crash and her move to Mercedes. But it was only the crash that he could get mad about.

"You asshole!" She screamed, resisting the urge to push him. "Learn to fucking drive!"

"You're telling me to learn to drive? Fuck you!" He shouted back as he pulled off his gloves.

"Are you trying to fuck up my career? Are you that jealous?" She hissed, pulling off her helmet.

"What've I got to be jealous of? Your lack of wins? The massive point gap between you an Lewis?"

"Come talk to me when an actually good team wants you." She went to turn away, to walk back to the pitlane, but Lando had one last thing to say.

"I can't believe I ever fucking loved you."

She choked up. She couldn't help it, but she choked up. All he wanted to do was hurt her, that was clear now.

She turned back around and marched towards him. "Fuck you, Lando Norris," she spat. "I never want to see you again."

"Good!" He shouted as she marched away. This time she didn't look back.

Maybe there would have been a chance for them to reconcile, but they didn't want to. The both of them were incredibly stubborn, and neither of them were going to fold.

There were so many instances where she ended up crying on Max's shoulder about Lando. Max was the only one that knew (she thought), the only one she could confide in. Every time she cried against him, Max said the same phrase. He said it so often that it was starting to lose its effect. "Concentrate on trying to beat me."

The Y/N on track was trying to forget about Lando. But it seemed like her only crashes were to do with him. He may have tried to speak to her, but she just walked away, refusing to give him the time of day.

There were incredibly awkward press conferences, where Y/N and Lando were paired up, the two of them with some of the other drivers. Of course they were asked about being teammates and about their friendship. Some brave interviewers even asked about the return of their rivalry.

They were diplomatic with their answers. Neither of their teams wanted them to add fuel to the fire, so their PR teams jumped on it, gave them the media training they needed to deal with it and put out the fires between them.

For a few races they stayed out of each others way. A bad qualifying meant Lando spent most of the race at the back of the rid, away from her for one race. They got in a few more fights but managed to stay on track, managed not to make contact.

It was the night before the final race of the year. Abu Dhabi 2021, the title decider. It was between Max and Lewis, and Y/N was fighting with Sergio Perez for third.

There was a knock at her hotel room door. With a yawn, she pulled the door open, welcoming whoever it was into her room.

Lando Norris strode in, wearing his orange McLaren shirt. His heart was beating erratically in his chest as he looked at her, as he looked at the girl he once loved. "This needs to stop," was all he said.

She nodded her head in agreement. "It's getting silly now," she said in agreement, sitting on the end of her bed.

Lando sat beside her. It was too close to the times before, too close to what they once had, that Y/N shuffled away. "I..." he began, but he trailed off. There was nothing more he could say that she didn't already know. What would telling her that he once loved her gain? Nothing.

He walked towards the door. "Lando?" She called, and he stopped in his tracks.

She stood and walked over to him, her hand outstretched. "Good luck out there," she said and he hesitantly grasped her hand. "And I look forward to our professional relationship."

She might have well put a knife in his chest. Lando gripped her hand and shook it. "I look forward to our professional relationship too."

They were world away from each other now. It seemed like there was no going back.

Taglist (CLOSED): @biancathecool @hollie911 @hiireadstuff @annispamz @carlossainzwho @spideybv28 @wherethefuckisthething @fangirl125reader @minkyungseokie @marialovesf1 @kitixie @i-wish-this-was-me @bborra @formula1mount @charlotte1697 @formulaal @eviethetheatrefreak @lordpercivalcharles @venisvendetta @marie0v @tbsloneely @laur20a23 @formulas-bitch @cmleitora @marvelavengers000 @gills-lounge @andydrysdalerogers @demipatterns @holy-macncheese-balls @jule239 @aexitizen-ln4 @landosgirlxoxo @allinestarr @starmanv @st0rmzi3 @random-human02 @nocoolusernamesavailable-blog @happymeal777 @ashy-kit @juniper-july19 @im-an-overthinker @haylenxx @kapsylia @prettiest-at-the-party @urfavnoirette @norassimpingzone @thehufflepuffavenger1 @taintet @amorydsmt @hi00000234567 @iamkaku @maxv33rstappen @noneofyourfbusinessworld @thatsusbitch @izzy-marvel @carqueensworld

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#376

“Hey Caleb.  You were in that bathroom for a while.  Big shit or were you giving it a tug?  Considering your swim trunks is showing no bulge whatsoever, I doubt you were enjoying your right hand.  Or do you use the left?  Me personally, I’m a lefty….

“Your dad and I were just talking by the pool.  I asked him how long he knew you were gay….  Oh I wish you could see the shocked look on your face.  So you haven’t told him.  He was shocked too.  He said you weren’t.  I told him that I’ve been around sperm burpers all my life and you were a classic pole rider.

“You haven’t said much.  Not one word of protest.  You are just trying to figure out what your next step is going to be.  Don’t worry, I love fucking with your dad.  He’s worked for me for ten years now.  He knows my sense of humor and just brush it off.  Besides he’s been drinking.  But I got enough out of him to convince me that you definitely gob the knob.

“You wanna swing on my dick, or not?  Here let me take it out for ya.  I can see by the lump forming in your shorts that you want it.  Am I right?...  Your dad likes to say that you are quiet and keep to yourself.  I can see that.  Just nod then.

“Ok, let’s do this then.  This guest room’s toilet serves as the overflow bathroom.  Someone will interrupt us.  Come with me.  My bedroom will offer us some more privacy.  Your dad already thinks you are off reading a book on your phone.  Nobody is going to miss me for a while….  It’s a large house.  When I bought it, I had an addition put on for my master suite….  When you enter my bedroom, lose the swim trunks.  Boys are to be naked at all times in my bedroom.

“Damn boy, you are rock hard.  So, were you jerking off or taking a dump in the toilet?...  Look, when it comes to sex, I cut to the point.  There’s no need to be coy.  I’m going to be fucking that pussy of yours, and I want to know if you are empty first.  Good.  Did you also give it a tug?...  Of course, you did. 

“Come here.  Point to the guy you were jerking off to….  You are at a construction company pool party where 80% of the men here work for me.  There are more muscles out there from hard work than a fag like you can take in.  Which one?...

“…Of course, you would go for Stan.  So you like big guys?  He’s six four and built like a brick shit house.  Have you talked to him?...  He can be a bit of an gruff asshole.  The guys call him Ox.  He has a dick to match.  Not the brightest guy, but damn he’s a hard worker and a brutal fucker.  Yeah, he’s tag teamed with me a couple of times.  He can fuck for hours.

“Come with me.  This closet door leads downstairs to my hidden playroom.  I had it specifically designed and loaded up for just about every kink my dick was interested in.  You’re what 20?  You probably don’t know about all these things.  I do know this: you are leaking up a storm. 

“Don’t touch yourself.  Let the leak flow.  Why don’t you have a look around?  I need to text a few of my guests to let them know that I had to step away for a bit.

“That’s a St. Andrew’s cross.  If you have an interest in being whipped, I’d be happy to oblige….  Didn’t think so. 

“Those are my four rim seats.  They are for eating ass.  Depending on my mood, they vary based on how secure the boy is underneath.  That last one secures the boy’s legs up so he can get fucked while he’s eating my shithole. 

“No. No.  Leave your dick alone.  I want you to leak….

“There.  All the appropriate texts have been sent.  Now, we’ll have some time to really have fun.  Come over there.  This is a fuck bench.  Simple.  Easy access both holes.  Climb up.  Knees go here; elbows here.

“Oh, you have a pretty cunt.  Nice….  Oh, you are not as tight as I thought you would be; my finger just slid in.  I take it you are not a virgin.  That’s fine.  I get it, a cunt needs to be fed.  You get fucked at college?...  Kinda figured. 

“Ever been tied up?...  No?  There’s always a first time. 

“Ok, so here’s the situation.  I’ve applied a small amount of lube to your cunt lips.  Your mouth, or rather your throat needs to put some slime on me.  I will probably go between your holes.

“I put a sludge plate under your dick to collect your pre-cum and when I eventually allow you, your cum.

“Open wide…. Oh fuck.  Your mouth feels good.  Oh shit, you know how to work your tongue.  You little faggot whore.  Oh man.  Fuck.

“I gotta try that cunt.  If it’s as good as your throat, boy…

“…Right to the root.  Right to the fucking root.  Wait.  What the fuck?...  Do that again….  Boy you are something.  I could just stand here, and you can squeeze my cock like that all day.  It feels like you are jerking me off with your hole.

“Where the fuck did you learn all this?  No twenty-year-old stumbles on how to treat a cock like you.  Who taught you?

“…Your math professor?  Damn, I never would have thought a math professor would have been so twisted. 

“Say faggot, you have a job?...  Living off your dad, hunh?  You probably go out looking for dick when he’s at work.  You fucking faggot whore.  How would you like to come work for me?  It’ll be in my main office.  It’s a tiny office, just me and my manager Dwight.  You’ll actually have office responsibilities in addition to servicing me and Dwight.  Yeah, he’s another guy that I work with that I play around with.  I employ four or five guys that also enjoy using faggots like you, although Dwight also uses bitches too.

“This is a serious offer.  Your dad doesn’t need to know anything other than you are working in my office.  I need to have these holes accessible.  You want to do that?...

“…Fuck yeah!  I’m getting close faggot.  Keep doing what you are doing.  Oh shit.  Oh shit!  Here it cums!  Shit yeah!

“You keep performing like this, and I’ll pay you what I do your dad.

“So, did the math professor teach you other kinks?…  Eating ass and piss drinking!  Hell yeah!  So you have been under a rim seat?...  No, he just sat on your face.  Did he tie you up, or get rough?...  He wanted to?  Boy, when a man wants to use you the way he wants you need to let him.

“Oh fuck, climb down.  And keep my load in you.  Here hop up on this fuck table.  I want to sample that tongue.  Legs go in the stirrups.  I will be securing your legs in them….  Wrists will be secure at your sides in these cuffs.

“You still in contact with the professor?...  Good.  I want to invite him over some weekend so we can use you all weekend long. 

“This table was designed for butt play as well as eating ass.  Your head goes here onto the head rest off the end.  I can lower the head rest and your head back so that opens your throat to a deep straight throat fuck, but I primarily use it by lifting it up like this to support your head when I straddle it like this.  Now your face is wedged in my ass, with me just standing here.  Get that tongue going.

“Oh fuck.  Fag, this will definitely be part of your office responsibilities.  Dwight will love it too.  As will Ox….

“Hey Ox….

“Faggot, I took the liberty of telling Ox to join us when I sent out those texts.

“Holy shit Ox, this is Murphy’s boy.  He’s a total cunt pig.  I just hired him to work for me in the main office.  Wait until you try his holes. 

“Shut up faggot!  This doesn’t concern you….  Get back to sticking your tongue into my shitter.

“He does this pulse thing with his cunt muscles.  You have to try it.  My load is still inside.

“Hey fagboy, you ever have a baseball bat in your cunt?...  No?...  Well it would have been practice for what’s about to be shoved into you.  You know that bulge you jerked off to is going in your twat.

“Scream in my ass.  Keep that tongue going in deep.  Oh fuck! 

“Look at how much he’s leaking.  Give it to him.  Hard.  He’s shaking.  Keep plowing….  Oh shit!  He’s fucking cumming.  Without his hands, that’s fucking amazing.

“Fag, I don’t care that you shot a huge load.  Ox takes a while to get going.  I’ll be right back.  Ron Owens needs to try you out. 

“Fag, while I’m gone, I want you to focus on the man you jerked off to—the man that is tearing up your cunt.  Here, let me undo your hands.  Run them over his chest.  Feel those muscles and that chest hair.

“Ox, don’t you dare cum before we get back.  Keep pile driving into him, and don’t let up, even if he begs.”

“Faggot, this is only the beginning….��

[whatthefishh]

house of balloons.

Marc Spector x f!reader

Warnings: unprotected p in v, spit, choking, slight breeding kink, Marc’s sweaty neck, cream pie, Dom/sub dynamic if you squint

Word count: 1.4K

AN: nobody asked for this but I’m giving it to you anyway. Beta’d by my bb @moonknightly ❤️

The way Marc was taking his time with you tonight was getting the best of you.

It wasn’t a particularly healthy relationship but it was what each of you could handle. He’d message you in the late hours of the night and conveniently for you, it would be on the nights you were too restless to sleep, in need of what only he could give you.

You don’t think he loves you. You definitely don’t love him, but you love the way he fills you up, his cock hitting the precise spot inside your hot and needy cunt that neither your fingers nor your toys could reach, the smug face he wore telling you everything you needed to know.

Your hands squeezed his shoulders where they were sweaty and bare, his own hands gripping your ass every time you sank down on his cock on the couch in your living room.

One of his hands moved to grip your jaw, thumb tugging on your bottom lip until you opened your eyes in question only to get caught in the most intense eye contact you’ve ever had with him. Marc continued to watch you as he pulled your pliant mouth open wider, and, while keeping his eyes on yours, leaned forward to fucking spit in your waiting mouth.

And God, you were so easy for him, you swallowed it down without hesitation.

At that you both groaned, and he leaned forward to do it again, kissing you tongue first right after letting it dribble down into your mouth. Suddenly, the pressure in your abdomen skyrocketed, your leaking pussy clamping down on Marc’s thick cock. Your spine seized up, hands reaching to entangle themselves in his hair as you neared your climax, desperate to ground yourself against the wave of pleasure threatening to drown you.

“Marc, ohh—“

“Fuck sweetheart, is that what you want? Huh?” He punctuated his question with a squeeze to your jaw, shaking your head a little.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want him to squeeze you tighter, choke you a little harder until you passed out. You were getting close to the edge, the wet sounds your pussy made loud in the otherwise silent apartment. You weren’t aware of the noises you were making, completely lost in the feelings Marc was bringing out in you.

“You know, I think about you sometimes. Whether you make noise when it’s just you and your fingers… you’re so loud, honey. How does nobody complain?”

Your thighs burned, for sure to be aching the next day to serve as a reminder of this moment. Pulling his face into your neck from his hair was your attempt at shutting him up, being more aggressive with it than usual but it only served to make him groan with pleasure.

“God, I’ve been thinking about this pussy all day. I think she missed me, too, leaking all over me. Such a mess,” he bit and licked at the junction in your neck. “I’ll clean you up after, don’t worry.”

You squeezed around him tighter at his words while Marc’s hands squeezed your ass on your way down, holding you there for a second before lifting you up and repeating it until he was basically using you like his own personal toy.

“Please,” you managed weakly.

You don’t even know what you’re asking for. Something, anything to free you. You needed the release and he was the only one who could give it to you now. You had a feeling Marc knew this, was using it to his advantage as he continued to grab and pull at your flesh with borderline animosity, channeling all of his feelings from the day and towards you into his large fingers, pressing and pressing and pressing.

“You gotta ask me, baby, c’mon use your words.”

Oh, fuck him.

Pretending to lean closer to whisper in his ear, you switched at the last second to pounce and bite down hard on Marc’s meaty shoulder, not being gentle while gnawing at his golden flesh. A loud groan was heard in your ear, encouraging you to repeat the action on the next space of golden tanned skin available to you. And while his fingers continued pressing bruises into your skin, his thrusts became all of a sudden erratic, pulling you down and grinding you on him, selfishly in search of his own release.

“Inside, inside,” you said breathlessly.

And with one last thrust, his hands still gripping your hips hard enough to hurt a little, he threw his head back. Your cunt fluttered around him as you came on his cock before you felt his warm cum trickling down and around where you were joined.

Marc’s bulging neck and heaving chest enticed you to lean forward again and lick at the sweat beading on his collarbone before he pushed your head away with a hand on your sternum. Sighing and pulling out, you both went quiet watching his spend leak out of you, twitching when he shoved it back inside with two fingers and fucking you with them a couple of times for good measure.

“Mmm.”

Whimpering when he pulled out again, you collapsed on your side against the cushions, focusing on evening out your breathing. Meanwhile, Marc was trying to fight his sudden instinct to stay with you and hold you, curl you up into a ball so that you may fit softly against him the way he dreamed about.

Deciding to cover you with a blanket instead, he quickly got dressed and hovered above you, avoiding eye contact before dropping a soft and lingering kiss on your forehead, only serving to confuse the fuck out of you. He never acted this way after sleeping with you, albeit tonight was a little more … intense, you could say.

You had to admit, it felt nice. Good, even.

Fuck, okay, it felt amazing. And now there was a look in his eye, kind of like he didn’t want to leave, kind of like he wanted to go again, stay the night, whisper sweet nothings to you while you lay in his arms until sunrise. Or maybe you were projecting.

A crease developed between his brows before he swiftly made his way to the door, his walk stiff and jaw set. You were probably projecting. He didn’t want to stay. Why would he? Like you said, you weren’t in love. You were just one of his girls.

“Uhh, yeah, well. See you around.”

Even his tone sounded more awkward than usual. Hovering near the entryway, shuffling, hands twiddling, he looked nothing like the Marc you knew for a moment. His shoulders hunched forward and for a split second his eyes went ridiculously soft.

Unlocking your door and making his way to the elevators, he headed down the hall, hearing a few heavy steps before your door swung shut. Just like that, he was gone.

You don’t know what you thought you saw, or if it was just something you wanted to see. You felt like a child again, a rejected little girl who’s crush wouldn’t play with them on the playground. The one time you let the silly hope shine in your eyes while looking up at the gorgeous man who you’ve come to realize you do sort of have feelings for, at least a little bit, was the only time Marc needed to see it before running away.

You’re not sure how long you lay there naked under the throw with his cum drying on your inner thigh before a couple of unsuspecting and quiet knocks sounded at your door. The weight of the hand behind the door didn’t sound familiar; maybe it was a neighbour who came to complain about the noise.

Wrapping the blanket around you like a shawl, you awkwardly (and sorely) padded to the door, opening it an inch before seeing the man who just bolted from your apartment back and looking uncomfortable. Maybe he forgot something.

“I forgot something.”

Opening the door wider for him, fully expecting him to immediately go looking for his wallet, keys, whatever it was, you don’t intend on watching him like a kicked puppy.

But Marc surprises you. He enters your home, shuts the door and still has that face of confusion on from earlier before he pulls you into his chest, his arms going around your waist as he hugs you close.

“Promised I’d clean you up, remember?” He whispers in your ear.

[luvissues]

mm thinking about simon riley and the conflict of wanting to keep reminders of you with him but also wanting to make sure nobody knows about you!!

Simon is a man who- admittedly- can’t help the small trickle of pride that fills him whenever he looks down at the band around his finger.

He loves the damn thing. Not as much as he loves seeing the matching one on your own hand, but that’s different.

He loves it, really. He does. But he just can’t bring himself to wear it when he’s out on the field.

He won’t deny that part of the problem is paranoia. That paranoia has long since crept through the cracks of his skull, lingered in his brain. He knows nobody will see it, but there’s never a guarantee.

He’s seen what soldiers will do to break someone down. Hell, he’s seen what his own team has done- how easily someone he loves could be dragged into his work. That’s the very last thing he wants.

Out of his team, it’s blatantly clear that Simon has the most anonymity. But he’s not stupid. He knows how far technology can go, how deep people will dig. He knows exactly how someone could chip and chip away at the barriers he’s put up, only to send his whole operation crumbling down.

He’s torn. At night, when he peels his gloves off for just that moment. Just long enough to feel the metal that sits there, warmed by the heat of his skin. That’s the moment when he wants more than anything to keep it on.

But he won’t allow himself to be so careless. How many times has he seen the same brassy silver and gold on a hostage’s finger? How many lovers were dragged into the dirty work of the muppets they married, all because of a simple ring?

It’s the same thing with dog tags. I’d doubt Simon would have them in the first place- it’s too much information, too easily accessible- but if he did, he’d never let you wear them. Why don’t they just put a flashing target sign over your head if he’s going to be so obvious?

He’s made too many enemies for himself. Too many men who would be eager to see his name around your neck, to use you as leverage. He would never forgive himself.

And photos? Oh, how he wishes. He wants to be like Johnny, who pulls on the ragged corners tucked into his pocket whenever he gets homesick. Like Gaz, who only has to tug off his hat to be reminded of who he’s going back to when everything’s said and done. But he’s not stupid, he’s not careless. Those are the two things he’ll never allow himself to be.

The poor man has wiped every photo of himself off of every document that he could. Why would you be any different? Don’t you know how easy it would be for someone to track you down, if only they got a glimpse of your face?

How many times has he watched Laswell pull the same information? How often does Price look over her shoulder, thinking about how he could use it to their benefit?

No ring, no tags. No photos. The Sergeants call him delusional- they’ve seen how fiercely he will fight for his own team, and they know he would do the same for you, only in tenfold.

His Captain might understand. They both have years of experience, have both born witness to the horrors people are willing to commit; the horrors that they themselves have watched unfold at their own hands.

And God forbid Simon ever gets a tattoo that gives you away. I imagine he has some already, and while he might get one in reminder of you, it would be something only he would understand. It almost makes him angry at the men who do have such tattoos, the senselessness of it all. He damn near gives Johnny a concussion from now hard he smacks him across the back of the head when the Sergeant brings it up as a drunk suggestion.

It’s not to say Simon isn’t proud of you. There’s nothing in the world he adores more, is there? He’d chose the title of your husband over the title of Lieutenant any day… as long as it’s off the field.

Think of it as him protecting you. That’s what it boils down to, at the end of it all. His need to keep you safe, to keep you far away from his work, even if he is a little paranoid. Everything he does, it’s done for you. <3

“Yer’ Sergeant is a dumb bastard, Price.”

“You didn’t have to hit him so hard, ya’ muppet, the man can hardly walk straight.”

“Just tryna’ set him right. If he gets that tattoo, I’m gonna cut it off of ‘im myself.”

“Fine, but I’m sure as hell not writing the report on it.”

“The missus will thank me for it. You know she will.”

[theemporium]

idk if you’ve seen it but there’s a trend on TikTok of playing a voicemail of a creepy guy in front of your boyfriend and I feel like brothers bff!reader would have to literally console quinn after trying that prank on him. boy would be murderous.

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

It was just meant to be a prank. 

A friend had sent you it, laughing at the compilation of reactions the video included to the fake voicemail. It was entertaining seeing how these men reacted differently, or seeing how many of them instantly became protective of the woman in their life who played the fake voicemail. 

You thought it looked fun to try out. 

It was some random week in October when you decided to fly out and spend some time with Quinn. It was reading week back in college and you had worked pretty well at staying on top of your classes, so you deserved the treat to fly out and spend some time with your boy. 

And other than the practices Quinn had to attend, he was practically glued to your side the rest of the week which made it easy to pull off the prank on a Thursday morning when you were sitting on the counter as Quinn made you both coffee. 

“Oh god.” 

“What’s wrong?” Quinn asked, his back still facing you but the disgusted scoff gave him a clear understanding that you weren’t happy. 

“Nothing, just an annoying lab partner,” you murmured, pressing your lips together to try and hold back your giggles. “I think he left me a voicemail.”

Quinn didn’t get much of a chance to say anything before the voicemail started. You watched him closely, the way his actions paused as he began to listen. 

“This is the final chance I am giving you. You are being ridiculous, and like most women, not thinking logically. Consider this your last chance to put your emotions aside and think with your brain.”

The coffee was abandoned in seconds as Quinn whirled around, looking at you with an expression mixed between shock and disgust. He placed his hands on the counter, stepping towards you as he continued to listen to the voicemail. 

“I am a good guy, one of the best you are going to find. So, I suggest you stop playing this hard-to-get game because nobody is believing you. You won’t find anyone better than me, not at college and not in bed. I have reservations for Friday night at the Italian place off campus. I expect you there and—”

“Absolutely fucking not,” Quinn gritted out between clenched teeth, a disgruntled scoff leaving his lips as he reached for his phone. “Give me a name.”

You blinked, almost surprised by the expression on his face. You didn’t think you had ever seen Quinn so angry before, not even on the ice. 

“A name,” Quinn repeated as he looked over towards you, eyes darkened and jaw clenched. “That is…he’s a fucking pervert. And a creep. I don’t want him near you. I don’t want him in the fucking college.” 

“Quinn—” you started, but he was lost to his own anger now.

“I’m gonna make sure he’s kicked out and sent somewhere far fucking away from you. Better yet, we can get a restraining order,” he continued as he scrolled through his phone, his eyebrows furrowed together as he searched for something. “I don’t want you going back with him just walking around. Does Luke even know? Does anyone—”

“Quinn,” you said again, a little louder this time as you rounded the counter to gently take ahold of his hands. You slowly pried the phone from his hands, a sheepish expression on your face. “He isn’t real.”

He frowned. “What? Babe, you don’t have to protect him—”

“I’m not protecting anyone, Quinn, I—” You took a deep breath before you continued. “It was a prank I saw on Tiktok. People were posting their partner’s reactions and I thought it would be funny.”

“Oh,” was all Quinn seemed to say.

“I’m sorry—” But you cut yourself off when he launched towards you, wrapping you in a tight hug as he clung onto you. Your arms automatically wrapped around his torso, nuzzling yourself further into his chest.

“You’d tell me if something like that was really happening, right?” Quinn murmured against the top of your head. 

“Of course,” you answered honestly.

“Good,” he said with a small sigh, his arms tightening around you. “I’d kill any fucker that makes you uncomfortable.”

You snorted. “It was kinda hot seeing you get all protective.”

“I’m glad you think as much because even though I know it’s fake, my body hasn’t caught on yet so I am not letting you go for the next hour,” Quinn murmured, though you could hear the smile in his voice.

“I have no issue with that,” you replied honestly, biting back your own grin as he placed a kiss to your forehead.

.

[lucreziasredwyne]

tw: mentions of infant death who: @garlandhightower​ when: flashback, set some months following the death of lord adnan redwyne where: the arbor, the reach

September came and went, and she prayed somebody would have awoken her when it did end; the atmosphere that had settled quietly within the family keeps of Vinestown felt as though vines of misery and grief stretched through the terracotta coloured winding halls; vines that acted more like veins in the grief that slowly encompassed them all. The birth of the future ruling Lord had brought forth some of the most peaceful days she had ever experienced within her life; not days of overt happiness and celebration and joy, but days of genuine bliss, peace and gratitude. 

Her prayers felt lighter; like the sun had shone down and finally deemed her and her family worthy for all the hardship that had paid off. Lucrezia Redwyne felt worthy of the Gods love, and it showed in all the grace and the love she bestowed upon the sibling she had finally been blessed with. 

It rained the day the congregation of men returned the gift of the Gods back to the soil they would all someday return to, and how it seemed to never stop raining for the days that followed; raining from the heavens, and raining from hazel hues that seemed forever at the brink. The brink of unleashing the sobs that bubbled within her chests, sobs demanding answers; sobs that came with hearing the sound of cries as her mother’s body hit the floor at her inconsolable grief that came with the final goodbye, or the sound of her ladies that rushed to help shield her from view and help the woman have some water. 

What a small mound it was, smaller than she could have pictured when she finally graced the burial ground when the men had left - which seemed to be filled with endless amounts of flowers; almost as though they were a wave of petals. As though the flow of life was utterly natural, to grant him and to take him away so seamlessly. 

November came and went, and Lucrezia Redwyne turned twenty and two. Maesters whispered of her mother entering the third stage of her life, and the family continued to adorn black whilst speaking of the future of the Arbor; how imperative it would be to secure the position with whatever faction of dragons seemed the most powerful. The Greens, no doubt, as a result of their own close association with House Hightower. The 23rd came and went, and December came, and went. 

She stopped wondering at one point. Knew he would come eventually, when he could. If he had been given leave and the time to do so, always the conditional. Perhaps she was always to be the conditional if; perhaps she would be lying if she did not openly admit to saying her heart ached with how far away he felt. Kings Landing was no place she wished to venture, nor a place Lord Arlo Redwyne wished for his daughter to grace; and it felt so very far away. A promised letter of visiting in late December had been read and forgotten, as it had so many times before; only this time, her father reminded her of Garland’s arrival as though he were shocked she could have forgotten. The stare she gave back to him was a blank one.

Lucrezia stood and ensured his favourite foods were spread out for him when he would visit her, and a part of her wished to turn him away, and another part of him wished to ask him why he did not come sooner. A part of her wished to grab hold of him and force him to look upon the grave of the family he had not managed to come and see - because they were not as important. Not as important as those Targaryens he seemed constantly busy with. Constantly. 

She expected to hold her grace and decorum as he entered her chambers, and yet, the sight of him was enough to cause her lower lip to curve downwards in the way it always did when she was close to crying. “Where were you?” She asked, her voice cracking slightly; she did not expect to start the conversation like this already, and yet, the tears did not flow yet. Only welled within her eyes as she looked upon him. He was tired, she could see it, instantly. But were they not all tired? 

“Need I be a dragon to have you remember me, cousin?” 

[crazymadpassionatelove]

Cool Girl

Notes: None of this would be possible without my dearest darlings @ab4eva and @precious-little-scoundrel! All the hugs and kisses to you both xo

Part 2

-

Here's the thing nobody ever admits about being the other half of a celebrity: it's actually as hard or as easy as you make it. Enter hunky, gifted actor who just happens to be hung like a horse? Well, being his lady isn't hard at all. You just have to know the rules. Number one, you can't hear the noise. Not literally, you can hear it. You must strive to live in such a bubble that none of it matters though. You shop, power walk your gated community, and take cock like it's the only job you have. Truly, it is. Pleasing him is of utmost importance. Be ready to hop a plane at a moment’s notice, or even get fucked on said plane. You're so busy spending your man’s cash snapping up authentic mid-century modern homes before certain celebrities turn them into minimalist gray prisons, raising money for dogs who need prosthetics, and trying your hand at that sourdough bread craze, you really don't even have time to see the Instagram hate being spewed your way 24/7.

Number two, remaining an enigma. Selling energy drinks on social media? Having your man pay off some fast fashion brand to “partner” with you for a collection? Appearing on some campy sitcom as a guest star? Not for you, the thought of it actually makes you recoil. You're too busy doing all the little things and making his once barely furnished house a home. Homemade chocolate chip cookies with the chocolate specially flown in from Belgium on his private plane? Check! Gold vintage jewelry via that cute little flea market in Paris is clanking as you insist on being the ones to change the bedroom sheets. A housekeeper comes once a month, and even she comments coyly about your chemistry. Still, she need not see the soaked sheets from the multiple round of lovemaking the two of you do at all hours of the day and night.

Being seen on the red carpet is not your cup of tea, but it's the equivalent of attending your man's office Christmas party. So you pick out a dress, aka one of the couture houses offers to dress you, and he flies you to Paris for multiple fittings and macarons. Then there's some vintage Van Cleef jewelry that appears on the dining room table one morning, and a fresh new pair of Louboutins is the final piece to the puzzle. Then, looking very demur and shy, you appear on his arm, clinging to it actually. You'll smile at the various television hosts and press. Speak softly, and practically defer to him for all questions. He's the star, you're just a great supporting act. Then, when the night is finally done, you both breathe a sigh of relief and he thanks you for being such a good sport. How about a McDonald's drive thru run, huh? That face, oh that handsome fucking face of his that you've been dying to kiss all night. He just always knows what to say. So that's how you're papped still in your couture gown, he in a wrinkled white button down, his jacket slid around your shoulders, feeding each other French fries and chicken nuggets, splitting a milkshake. How wholesome and Americana honestly.

That night he promises to thank you again. Austin's perfect lips wrap themselves around your puffy clit as two, then three fingers curl, shove, and squelch inside you. “You were such a good girl the whole night, baby.” There's something about being called a good girl that makes you absolutely feral. He brings you to orgasm over and over, you lose count after about 7. He's just getting started though. He hasn't even slipped inside. When he does though, it's rough. The glorious slapping sounds of flesh fill the room as he brings himself to the edge over and over, denying himself a release and giving you an additional, what three or four orgasms? You've left feral behind and have crossed over into absolute animalistic filth as you bury yourself in the goose down pillows and practically shove it in your mouth howling. Letting him have his way as you throb and clench, hot and pink with almost blurred vision as he talks you through it. Peppering the conversation with lots of “that's my girl, my pretty baby cums so damn pretty”. When you think you're in need of a paramedic, he blows inside you something reminiscent of Niagara falls. He knows how much you love a vocal man. You end the night not being able to feel your limbs or do anything beyond closing your eyes with a lazy, bashful grin. He gives you one last slap to the ass then mentions as you drift off, “Could you make some of those brownies of yours for the cast and crew tomorrow?”

The third rule of being the other half to everyone's favorite blue eyed baby boy actor? Less is more. This sort of goes hand in hand with the enigma rule. Those celebrities who traipse around in loud designer clothing and accessories covered in flashy logos? That's not you or your man for that matter. Sure you have handbags that cost more than some people's cars, but they are solid authentic leather bags your guy finds you in far flung corners when he's on location. No one really notices when you're papped and printed in People Magazine. You keep your head down in aviators he takes to wearing, a nice little subtle nod. The bands you each wear on that finger are a solid Welsh gold. Whenever his slightly deranged fans see you, the one thing they can't call you is a golddigger. You drive a jeep or even that old Ford truck he restored himself, no Lamborghinis in your garage.

Part of the less is more shtick though is being able to give a cute little nod to him here and there when appropriate. When he's cast in a certain biopic that alters his career and your lives? You sit tight and let him have his moment, after all, you know all the behind the scenes work that goes into it. The blood, sweat, and tears. There are times when he takes method acting to such a level that it's almost like going to bed with another man. You can't exactly complain though. The slight drawl that appears when he says your name is something he is never able to truly shake and you're glad. When the moment is right though, you post a tongue in cheek Instagram post. Your feed is normally bogged down with pictures of the pets, your baking, and various charities you support. This time though, you post a rare photo of yourself looking like you're a certain sort of American royalty stepped from a time machine. It's a candid shot with you at his feet. Worshiping. Except now it's sort of like you worship two men. It's fairly well received, friends tell you, though there will always be hate. Remember, you can't hear the noise. You certainly can't hear the noise women old enough to be your grandmother are making as they lust over the man who's cock you gag on every night.

Those utterly delectable fingers of his snake inside you, make you hiss and come undone as that tongue in cheek sort of throw back makeup you're sporting runs down your cheeks. “Who's my pretty girl?” He teases you. A good hour later when he finally allows himself his own release he's panting your name into your ear. He settles himself in between your breasts. Didn't his agent once mention the girls on Tumblr call him baby boy? If only they could catch a glimpse of him now. Murmuring against your skin and tracing what feels like hearts on your arms. You scroll Zillow and read out the six-figure price tags on castles in Ireland. How does fucking in a dungeon sound, honey?

Rule number four? Be ready to go to bat for him at any moment, others opinions be damned. Being Austin's other half brings out a protective streak in you. A maternal bodyguard quasi agent of sorts. Always keep your eyes peeled for the photogs, especially when he's indulging in that pesky little smoking habit he doesn't exactly like to advertise. That actual management team of his isn't bad, especially once the Elvis flick is underway and you learn just exactly how bad certain managers can be. Still, nobody has his best interests at heart the way you do. Keep his favorite snacks on hand in your purse, water ready at a moment's notice. Your boy has a tendency to work himself to the bone and you certainly cannot allow him to run himself ragged. Tea with hot honey every night was a must while he immersed himself in Elvis. Be his soft place, let him cry and vent while you run your fingers through those golden locks. Take whatever you can off his plate so he can dedicate himself to his craft.

Some wonder if you've lost yourself in him and his life, but it's the exact opposite. You've found yourself. When that angel boy praises you during press tours and jokes on talk shows about you flying out in the middle of the night to see to it his shirts are starched the way he likes and he eats breakfast, well you just sit there and smile. “I couldn't be me without her.” Those words make you melt and you immediately crave the feeling of his hot cream inside you. Playing Elvis brought out a side of him that never truly leaves once filming wraps. Stressed? Tired? Enamored? Him bending you over while you're brushing your teeth becomes a common occurrence. “That's my baby – take it, take it,” you've gotta talk it all out of him sometimes and that's fine with you. You stand in the wings of the Kelly Ripa show and try in vain to hide your red face when a PA offers you a napkin. “I think you spilled something down your leg,” the young girl offers. Something spilled all right, him inside you with his hands gripping your hair just minutes before he was due on stage.

Everything is just so right, it's only natural that cool girl very quickly becomes cool wife.

-

[that-tmr-girl]

Just Questions

Thomas’s innocent sounding questions lead to some not so innocent activities.

Vaginal sex, fingering, praise kink

Thomas has been a curious Greenie from day one. He’s wanted the answers to absolutely everything, no matter what it is. From the Maze to jobs, he always has something that he wants to ask.

I was the only medjack today. Ironically, Clint and Jeff were sick, meaning they had to stay in bed. I didn't mind seeing as I enjoy my job, but it can still be a lot.

It was easy today. The only patient I actually had was Thomas, who had fallen while running, successfully cutting his face on a rock.

“You're lucky this wasn't any worse,”I pointed out, cleaning the blood from his forehead.

“How bad could it actually get?”He shrugged.

“Pretty bad if you don't disinfectant it,”I chuckled, pouring rubbing alcohol on a rag.

“You’ve probably seen worse though,”He shrugged again.

“Oh yeah. Lots worse,”I promised.

“How bad?”

“Broken bones, a concussion, the works,”I answered, dabbing his wound.

“You never seem to mind my questions.”

“I don't at all. It's kind of cute how much you want to know about everything,”I admitted.

“So would you mind if I asked you some more personal questions?”

“Probably not,”I said, getting the last of the blood. Pulling away, I sat down as he kept his eyes on mine.

“You're a girl. That has to make your experience different than everyone else, right?”

“Maybe sometimes, but I’m fine with being here now,”I shrugged.

“You don't ever catch anybody looking at you?”

“Sometimes, but I usually brush it off. I'd rather not start anything,”I explained.

“The female anatomy, it's very different from guys, yes?”

“Definitely,”I nodded.

“Like how your clit is your pleasure spot?”

“That's definitely one difference,”I got out, crossing my legs.

“Can you show me?”

“Probably. I’m sure there are some books in here or something,”I shrugged.

“You're cute.”

“What?”I asked quickly.

“That isn't what I meant, angel. I wasn't asking about books. I was asking if you could show me,”He drew out, his voice low and lustful.

“I-I don't know if that's the best idea in here,”I reasoned.

“As long as we're quiet, nobody needs to find out,”He smirked.

“What if someone catches us?”

“And what if they don't?”

“But they could?”

“I can see you rubbing your thighs together,”He told me. Instantly, my face flushed as I realized I had unconsciously been trying to get some friction between my legs, wetness starting to soak my panties. “You should let me between your thighs instead?”

“Yeah? You think I should?”I asked, slowly leaning in.

“Yeah. I really think you should,”He nodded, wrapping his arms around my neck. I set myself on his lap, allowing me to feel him growing hard in his pants.

“And maybe I will let you inside of me?”I teased, holding his face in my palms as I leaned in close to him.

“Yeah?”

“Yes-”

Before I could finish my sentence he had smashed his lips against mine. Shutting my eyes, I kissed back as I placed my hands on his chest. Sliding his down, he grabbed my ass as he slipped his tongue inside of my mouth. I grazed mine over his as we explored each other's mouths. My hands traveled to his pants, tugging on them, begging for him to undress. Understanding what I wanted, what I needed now, he pulled them off with one hand while still kissing me.

Pulling away, I took a breath as I pulled my shirt over my head. He grabbed the hem of my pants before sliding them off. I forced his shirt over his head, revealing his abs. Tracing my hands up and down his stomach, I grinded on him. He groaned as he leaned back, watching me.

Reaching back, I unclipped my bra. The second it was on the ground he took both my breasts in his palm, tracing his thumbs over my nipples. I bit my lip to hold in a whimper as I only grew wetter.

“Do you really want this?”He whispered.

“I need this now, Thomas.”

Accepting my answer, he slipped his boxers off as I got off of him. Sliding my panties down my legs, I was left completely nude in front of him.

“Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful,”He praised, standing up and grabbing my hips. Pushing his lips back against mine, he kissed me as deeply as he could as I wrapped my legs around his waist. Turning me around, he set me on the bench before spreading my legs.

“Tell me if you need me to stop, okay?”

“Just go already,”I begged.

“So needy,”He teased.

“Thomas, please?”

Listening, he wrapped my legs around his waist as he pushed into me. I whimpered at the feeling so he stopped for a second, giving me time to adjust.

“Just go,”I repeated through heavy breaths.

He pushed more of him into me, making me throw my head back and clench my jaw. Tears threatened to fill my eyes as he stretched me out.

“It's okay. You're taking me so well. You're doing so good,”He praised, admitedly making me moan. “You like hearing how well you're doing, good girl?”

“Yes,”I breathed out.

“You're taking it so well,”He grunted, pushing more of him into me. I let out another moan as he slid out before slamming back in, completely penetrating me. My eyes rolled back to my head as he thrusted in and out at an even pace, the table shaking beneath me.

“Oh god. Oh Thomas,”I moaned as pure pleasure ran up my body.

“You take it so well. God, you're such a good girl,”He groaned, starting to increase his pace. I moaned again at the words as I felt pressure in my lower stomach. My walls tightened around his thick cock as his thrusts got sloppier. He groaned each time he pushed back in before twitching inside of me.

“I’m-I’m close,”I stuttered out.

“Good girl. You gonna cum for me? Gonna cum all over my dick?”He groaned.

“Oh fuck, oh god, Thomas,”I moaned, throwing my head back again as I broke. Still going, he slammed deep inside of me again before climaxing, filling me up with his warm, sticky seed.

“I need more,”I begged as he pulled out.

Grabbing my waist, he spun my around before bending me over. I bit down on my lip in anticipation as he grabbed my waist while positioning himself behind me.

“You ready?”

“Please, just do something?”I pleaded.

Slamming into me, he filled me up again. I whimpered as I dropped my head, clawing at the bench at the feeling. With my teeth gritted together, I closed my eyes at the feeling of him pulling out and pushing in.

“You take it so well. Looking so damn pretty while you do,”He praised.

“Fuck, Thomas. Oh fuck,”I moaned, already threatening to break from sensitivity. “Thomas, I’m close,”I whimpered.

“Cum. Be a good girl, and cum,”He ordered.

Moaning louder at his words, I was practically cross eyes as I came again. My liquids spilled between my thighs, slowly traveling down my legs.

He didn't stop though. He kept slamming into me even harder and rougher than before, making my body shake. I let out more whimpers as I took him deep inside of me. He groaned each time he slid in.

The room was filled with the sound of skin on skin and pleasured sounds. Unable to take it, my walls tightened again as he twitched inside of me.

“Close. Close again,”I panted.

“You can cum. Do it. Cum,”He grunted, pushing in again and finishing inside of me. My hands balled into fists as the knot broke.

Breathing heavily, I rested my head on the table as both of us spilled down my legs, collecting in a puddle at my feet. My chest heaved as my vision wasn't right yet, too overcome with the pleasure I just felt.

He pulled out before turning me around, setting me on the bench. Spreading my legs, he buried his face in my neck, kissing my skin as he trailed his hands up and down my body.

“Thomas, what are-”

“I’m not done yet,”He hushed, biting down on my skin. I took a deep breath until he pushed two fingers deep inside of me. I let out a loud moan as he pumped them, hitting my g-spot. Using his thumb, he rubbed circles on my clit, leaving me breathless.

“Fuckkk, Thomas,”I moaned, feeling the knot in my core come back. He increased his pace on my clit and inside of me, leaving my physically unable to keep my eyes open as I broke all over his hand.

“Good girl. You took my fingers so fucking well,”He praised, pulling them out of me. Placing them in his mouth, he sucked down before softly pressing his lips against mine. I barely managed to kiss back as I was still taking in air.

“We should do that again sometime,”He suggested as he pulled away.

“Yeah. That can definitely be arranged.”

[stevesjockstrap]

kinktober 5: Corroded Coffin/Steve & group sex

Rated E • Corroded Coffin polycule + Steve • famous Corroded Coffin, regular guy Steve, no UD, indeterminate time frame, implications of free use, double penetration

Suggested by @fuctacles

Corroded Coffin had always been close; maybe a lot closer than anyone would’ve expected. No one remembered how it had started, really. Just a bunch of dudes stuck in close quarters together for too long, especially in the early days where groupies were unheard of. Guys messed around with their friends, helped them out, right?

Eddie knew what they had was taboo, and of course this unspoken thing continued after the band had hit it big, hiring assistants and management, through relationships and falling outs. The band knew they always had each other. That had worked for them for so long, why stop now?

Until Steve Harrington crashed into his life, uprooting everything Eddie had thought possible. He was nobody, just a normal man who worked a boring office job. They’d crossed paths randomly, at a hotel where Steve was attending a work conference. Eddie had made a fool of himself, unable to speak or make sense, mystified at the beautiful man in front of him.

The band laughed at Eddie falling so hard so fast with this regular guy, figuring it would burn out as fast as all of their attempts at separate endeavors always had.

Eddie soon learned that Steve was very needy, and found the idea of others joining them more than appealing. He wasn’t put off by Eddie’s shy admission of the band mates helping each other out. It wasn’t the dealbreaker it had been in the past. Eddie, and everyone else, were pleasantly surprised.

He had talked Steve into taking a sabbatical at work to join the band on their international tour. He’d finally caved, as there'd be no way Steve would survive without his boyfriend for the months they’d be gone. The few days or weeks in the beginning of their relationship had been unbearable for him.

The boys were even more hyped up than usual after the show tonight, rushing through meet and greets. It may have had something to do with Steve waiting for them in the green room in only a pair of baby pink panties, cock hard and plug already in place.

Eddie smirked at him, taking his time as he licked across his sensitive nipples while Drew pushed into him from behind. Steve’s own dick was engulfed by Jeff’s skilled mouth and his hands were working Gareth’s hole and cock. They had all perfected their roles, the boys knowing what each other wanted before they could ask for it. And Steve fit in quickly and immediately, completely uninhibited and giving as good as he got.

Eddie usually found himself hanging back, wanting to watch them take Steve apart and then use him to exhaustion. Steve was the most insatiable person Eddie had ever met. He’d come again and again and still cry and whine for more. Jeff and Drew were mostly useless after coming once, so then it was up to Gareth and Eddie to work him to completion.

Not that anyone ever complained.

Once Drew was snoring on the other couch and Jeff was chugging a bottle of water, Eddie slid into his twice-filled hole as Steve bottomed out into Gareth.

“Oh shit, baby. You love being in the middle, huh?” Eddie gasped as he clenched around him.

“Love all of it,” he murmured, starting the rhythm of their thrusts. He cried out as he fucked himself back and forth between them. Gareth was unusually quiet, and Eddie realized Steve’s fingers were shoved into his mouth.

“Gareth really wanted Steve to fuck him, but he said he didn’t want Becky to have to listen to his wailing. Her room is right next to us here,” Jeff explained.

Eddie chuckled, sucking a dark bite into Steve’s shoulder.

Their publicist had put up with a lot the last few years. She really liked Steve, probably because he was so easy going and friendly. Being gorgeous probably helped, but Steve always tried to help out with whatever Becky needed.

Gareth reached up to pull the fingers away from his mouth to grumble, “Don’t know why you have to suck up to her, you’re already her favorite.”

They both fucked forward hard at the same time, making Gareth cry out loudly. Proving his point, Steve shoved three fingers back in, snorting at his choked off noise.

Gareth came quickly after that, rutting back to try to make Steve come first but Eddie pushed two dry fingers in alongside Steve’s cock as Steve jerked him off. He didn't stand a chance.

“Want me all to yourself now, princess?” He teased as they switched positions, Steve riding him fast. His cock was hard and dripping, bouncing with him as he sunk down onto Eddie. They both jolted as Gareth decided to get revenge by pushing his own thick fingers next to Eddie’s cock.

“Yesss,” Steve whined. “More, Gare. That’s- oh fuck. Shove your cock in too.”

Eddie laughed but Gareth spit into his other hand and worked himself back to hardness. He pushed at Steve's shoulder to get him into a better angle, holding himself above Eddie’s chest. After only a few moments of rubbing his cock between their bellies, Steve came again, easing the way for Gareth as he slowly pressed in beside Eddie’s cock.

The tightness around his cock was insane. But looking up at both of their faces was better. He’d never seen Steve like this before, eyes unfocused, keening loudly as he and Gareth found a rhythm to fuck into him together.

“Oh fuck, that’s hot,” Jeff groaned from his seat, leaning forward unabashedly staring at where they were all connected.

Steve pulled away a bit, and Eddie stilled. But he only pushed up on one arm to reach back with the other, teasing his fingers around the stretched skin. The other two groaned with him.

“So fucking full, oh my god,” he nearly shouted.

Gareth giggled and shoved forward roughly, making all three of them cry out. When he continued, Steve was the one making all the noise. So much for not pissing Becky off.

They both had the same idea, both of their hands coming to cover Steve’s mouth simultaneously.

“Gunna come, Gare, oh shit,” Eddie warned.

“Me too.”

Eddie reached one hand to pull at the hair at the base of Steve’s skull, bringing him in for a filthy kiss as Gareth pulled Steve’s hips back and forth. Steve came again, squeezing impossibly tighter around them, Eddie swallowing his noises as they continued fucking him through it.

He felt Gareth’s release hot around him before he succumbed to his own climax.

When he’d caught his breath, Steve was laying on his chest, a satisfied sort of smirk across his face.

“We are definitely doing that again,” he mused.

“Oh, you are trouble,” Gareth responded where he was sprawled on the floor a few feet away, pushing his hair off his sweaty forehead as he panted.

Insatiable as always, Steve somehow conned Eddie into eating out his abused hole in the shower until he came twice more.

They bought flowers and a bottle of wine for Becky, who only avoided eye contact with them for a couple days afterwards.

Dividers by @/steddiecameraroll-graphics & @/fuctacles

[sednas]

['CAUSE HE'S A F×CK BOY ─ s. gojo]

꒰ ͜͡➸ sorry what did you say? oh you want a virginkiller!gojo fic? with enemies to lovers vibes? yeah I might have this one in store for you. smut will be in the second part tho! (which will be posted in one week or five months, who knows! :))

pairing: virginkiller!gojo x virgin!fem!reader

tw: college!au, suggestive themes, virginity kink, (dub-con) make out session, gojo is annoying but hey what's new, sexual tension, light fem masturbation at the end

gojo satoru was the golden boy. the most intelligent student of his class, the most talented sports player of the school, the most popular guy of the campus, maybe even of the whole city. he was excellent at everything. people were too amazed by his talent to notice his arrogance and his condescending smile, too blinded by his bright blue eyes and his snowy white hair.

gojo was the best at everything, and it included fucking. hell, fucking was actually on top of the list. he had a cheerleader waiting for him every night in his room, sometimes he could just wink at a girl and she was already spreading her legs for him in the bathroom a few minutes later. he could have literally everyone, but what he liked best was virgins. he loved them, such good girls who managed to keep their innocence until college. they were always so easy, so pliant.

and the thing he mostly liked to do with them was fucking them so hard that nobody could ever compare after that. he wanted them to think about him every time they would fuck someone else, he wanted them to rub their thighs together while thinking about him years later, this is what he liked to do with them. of course, the thought of ruining them for their first time was also appealing, they were usually so shy and reserved, he liked to take them apart piece by piece, make them drool, and then cry, and then forcing them to look at themselves in the mirror, letting them see how the filthiest version of themselves looked like. and in the end, when they were too fucked to think, he made them say thanks.

and this was exactly what he wanted to do with you.

you were way more difficult than the others, doing your best to ignore his piercing blue eyes, answering by a simple nod of your head every time he was trying to start a conversation, leaving the room every time he was in.

yeah you were difficult, but satoru always got what he wanted.

“all by yourself uh?”

he startled you a bit, and he could see that you were already looking for a way out by the way your eyes were looking at everything but him.

he moved his body to be at the same height as you, looking at you through his glasses, and then he said your name in a sweet voice, smiling when he saw how easily he got you looking back at him, your face obviously flushed.

“finally paying attention to me mh? it's a shame that you don't look at me often, I really like your eyes, they're pretty.”

and he really meant it, you were telling him everything with those eyes, the way you were constantly daydreaming about him, how you were humping your pillow at night, imagining it was his thigh instead. yeah, very pretty eyes.

“I want to get to know ya.” he said with a smile, and he got closer.

he kept himself from laughing when he saw you taking a few steps back and then he stopped, not wanting to make you panic too much.

“here, gimme your phone.”

you obeyed after barely a few seconds, and it only confirmed what he was already thinking; you were wrapped around his finger even though you were trying to hide it.

“mmh cute wallpaper… alright I'm just gonna add my number to your contacts annnnnd… done!” he finally said, his relaxed smile still on his face, handing you over your phone.

he didn't let go of it immediately, making sure your hands brushed against one another, noticing the way your breath got stuck in your throat.

“call me okay?”

one month passed by and you never called, or even texted. gojo felt frustration for the first time in his life, and because of that he was rougher than usual when he was fucking a cheerleader, his thoughts always coming back to you, and the way you were still ignoring him even though you were fucking yourself with your fingers every night while thinking about him. he was starting to get tired of his own game, but still, he wasn't planning on giving up. and so when he saw you standing in the kitchen during that halloween party, a devilish grin appeared on his pale face...

it's already too late when you spot him across the room, his blue eyes are on you. you can barely think of an escape that he's already in front of you, wearing a black tuxedo, a white collar wrapped around his neck and long white victorian sleeves hugging his arms, and making the rings on his fingers look elegant.

“you didn't call me.“ gojo whispers against your ear, his long arms trapping you between his body and the kitchen counter.

you open your mouth but no sound comes out, your eyes try to escape his teasing gaze as you're sure he can see every little detail on your face by standing so close.

“I thought… I thought you weren't serious when you gave me your number.”

he chuckles, noticing how you're even more embarrassed to look him in the eyes when he hasn't his glasses on.

“I like your costume, it suits your body.”

you feel your skin grows hot, his voice so soft and intimate, his eyes trailing on your body from up and down. it feels like you're alone in the whole house with only him. and your heart is racing with fear and anticipation, as you bring your thighs together. gojo notices it, placing his knee between them before you can fully close them, making you gasp.

“so tell me something baby…” he starts speaking in a honeyed voice, his lips coming closer to your ear.

you blink at the nickname, his body weighting a little more on your own, your back uncomfortably pressed against the kitchen counter as your body slowly bent to accommodate to the awkward position.

“are you scared of me or something?”

a nervous laugh comes out of your mouth, turning your head to escape from his warm gaze.

“I'm not scared of you.”

he can tell you're sincere, but it only makes him want to know more.

“then why are you avoiding me all the time uh?”

he tilts his head to the side, eyes burning with curiosity and his teeth flashing at you when you finally look back at him.

“i'm avoiding you because… you're so annoying, and you fuck everyone you know and you're so arrogant, always thinking you're better than anyone else. I don't like you, at all.”

a few seconds of silence pass by while both of you just look at eachother, until a smirk slowly appears on gojo's face.

“I didn't know you were so mean.” he laughed. “but if you hate me so much why aren't you pushing me away right now?” his sultry voice keeps sliding on you like honey, his mouth so close to your skin, breath fanning over your neck.

he's right, and he knows it, smiling even wider when he sees you looking at the ground in defeat.

“that's what I thought.” he smiles, one of his hand sliding along the side of your jaw, the sudden touch making your heart skips a beat.

his pale hand looks good on your skin, you can feel his fingers squeezing lightly your throat and the atmosphere becomes more tense than before, he still has this grin, like he knows everything about you, especially how much you want him to touch you more.

you're a few seconds away from giving up, your body almost falling on the counter to let gojo fully rest on you. somehow his smirk grows wider when he sees you closing your eyes. you let out a little whine when you feel him pressing all of his body weight against you.

“that was a sweet sound baby, mind if you make some more for me?”

despite shaking your head no, you pressed your body against him, hungry for more, finding a new pleasure in being the center of his attention. his slender fingers find their way to squeeze your chest, drawing another whine out of your mouth.

“more…” he orders, the sound of his voice muffled against your skin.

you try to close your lips, in a poor attempt not to give in so easily, but your legs turn to jelly as soon as he puts his soft lips on your neck. one of your hands flew through his white hair as you gasped at this new sensation.

his hot tongue tracing kisses along your neck, he grabbed your hips, bringing you even closer, letting you feel his boner. you feel dirty, intoxicated, but the heat coming out of his body is addictive. you let out another sound and your fingers are now grabbing his shirt in a needy way, trying to get him even closer to you. you want more. you need more.

you suddenly open your eyes when you feel his warmth vanish from your trembling body. you watch him walk away in disbelief while he's wearing a wicked smile on his face.

“I think my friends are waiting for me… it was fun, you should call me later okay?” he winked at you before exiting the room without letting you have any time to react.

you're left here, breathless, blood pumping into your veins, eyes clouded with desire, a pool of arousal between your legs. your hands clench into fists, of course he did it on purpose.

your eyes are fixated on your phone as breathless sighs keep coming out of your mouth.

"fuck!" you let out an exasperated groan, throwing your head back into the soft pillows.

your fingers are still trying to reach that spongy spot inside you, you arch your back, lifting your hips in the air, hoping it will allow your fingers to touch deeper parts. but you're left unsatisfied again, your legs twitching in frustration. your head hit your pillow and your eyes go back to your phone.

"he would fuck me right." you mumble to yourself.

part two

jjk masterlist

a lovely reminder that reblogs and comments are highly appreciated ♡

[awkward-walking-potato]

Remy with a werewolf reader!!!

Love love LOVE how you write remy so much!!!!!

Falling for the Wolf

Remy LeBeau had heard the stories. Everyone at Xavier’s had. They all whispered the same warnings—stay away from the werewolf. That it was dangerous, unpredictable, a walking storm waiting to unleash chaos. The fear of what you could do, what you might become, kept people at arm’s length.

But Gambit? He had never been one to listen to warnings.

The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silver glow over the grounds of the X-Mansion. Remy was lounging against a tree just outside the training facility, casually flipping a charged card between his fingers as he kept an eye on the shadowed woods beyond. He knew you would come out eventually. You always did. The woods were your escape, a place to retreat when the world became too much, when the wolf inside you scratched too hard at the surface.

Tonight, though, Remy wasn’t interested in letting you slip away unnoticed. He’d caught glimpses of you—your powerful strides, the way your eyes gleamed in the dark, how everyone stiffened when you walked into a room. And to him, that just made you all the more interesting. There was something about danger that he found irresistible.

Sure enough, after a few minutes of waiting, you stepped out of the tree line, your form illuminated by the soft moonlight. You moved with a natural grace, your eyes scanning the surroundings like a predator, ever cautious. But tonight, you weren’t alone.

"Bonsoir, chérie," Remy called out, his deep Cajun accent lacing the words with a smooth, warm charm. He pushed himself off the tree and started walking towards you, his usual cocky grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

You stopped, eyes narrowing. "What do you want, Gambit?"

It wasn’t the friendliest greeting, but then again, you weren’t exactly known for small talk or pleasantries. Remy didn’t mind. He liked a challenge.

"Jus' wanted to say hello," he said casually, closing the distance between you both. "Ain’t nobody ever told you it’s dangerous to be out here all alone at night?"

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "I’m the dangerous one. I think you’re the one who should be worried."

Remy chuckled softly, stopping just a few feet from you. "Oh, I ain’t worried, ma chère. I like a little danger."

You rolled your eyes, though there was a flicker of something in your expression—curiosity, maybe. You had been used to people avoiding you, treating you like a ticking time bomb. But not Remy. He was standing there, bold as ever, that charming smile never faltering.

"Why are you really here?" you asked, crossing your arms. The moonlight caught the silver glint in your eyes, the subtle reminder of what lay beneath your human skin.

Remy shrugged, casually flipping the card in his hand before making it disappear in a flash of kinetic energy. "What can I say? I like things that got a bit of bite to ‘em. And you? You got a lot more than a bit."

You frowned, not used to this kind of attention—at least, not from someone who wasn’t scared of you. "You’re not scared of me?"

He tilted his head, his red-on-black eyes gleaming mischievously. "Scared? Non. You jus' got a bit more… wildness in you than most. But Gambit don’t scare so easy."

Your gaze hardened, the weight of the warnings people whispered about you creeping into your mind. "Everyone else does. Everyone says I’m dangerous. That I can’t be trusted. That I’ll hurt someone if I lose control."

Remy’s expression softened, and he took a step closer, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him. "Let me tell you somethin', chérie. People say all kinds o' things ‘bout what they don’t understand. But me? I like to make up my own mind."

He paused, his voice lowering, taking on a more serious tone. "And right now? I think they don’t know what they talkin' about. I see someone strong, someone who’s got more control than they give you credit for."

You blinked, taken aback by his words. It wasn’t often that anyone saw you for more than the werewolf lurking beneath the surface. "You don’t even know me."

Remy’s grin returned, playful and easy. "I know enough." He winked, and you could feel your defenses start to waver. "Besides, I’ve been keepin' an eye on you. You ain’t near as dangerous as they say—at least, not to me."

You scoffed, though you couldn’t help the hint of amusement tugging at the corners of your lips. "You’re awfully confident, LeBeau."

He stepped closer again, this time within arm’s reach, his gaze locked on yours. "Confidence is what gets me by," he said smoothly, his voice like honey. "But don’t worry, I’ll make sure you don’t hurt me. Not unless you want to."

Your heart skipped a beat, the heat of his presence overwhelming for a moment. There was something about the way he looked at you—like you weren’t a monster, like you weren’t someone to be feared. It was intoxicating.

But you couldn’t let yourself get caught up in his charm. Not when you knew what you were capable of.

"People don’t just… flirt with me, Remy," you said, a hint of bitterness in your voice. "They’re too busy avoiding me."

Remy’s grin softened into something more genuine, more sincere. "Then maybe they missin' out on somethin’ good."

Your breath caught in your throat as his words hung in the air. You hadn’t expected this. You hadn’t expected anyone—let alone someone like Gambit—to look at you like you were worth something.

He took a step back, giving you space, but his eyes never left yours. "You think ‘bout what I said, chérie. Ain’t no reason to be alone when you don’t have to be."

And with that, he turned, walking away with the same swagger he always carried. But before he disappeared completely into the shadows, he looked over his shoulder, flashing you one last grin.

"I’ll see you ‘round."

And as you stood there, watching him go, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe—just maybe—you’d let him get a little closer next time.

[cosyvelvetorchid]

Requesting smut because yours is some of the best.

Prompt: photo

Well thank you! Ask and ye shall receive! 🩶

***

RATED: E

As far as birthdays go Buck was excited for this one.

He and Tommy had both been on 48 hour shifts and were about to have by 72 hours off. Together. Neither knew if it was luck or the gods or the universe but they both chose not to spend any time wondering how it happened lest they jinx it.

His birthday wasn’t actually until tomorrow but everybody was under strict instructions that unless it was a life or death emergency, under no circumstances were they contact with him or Tommy.

So today, Hen had arrived with a cake and Bobby had cooked one of Bucks favourites - baked macaroni. The calls they’d been on were fairly simple - a couple of minor accidents involving minor injuries and no deaths. Buck was trying so hard to not jinx it all by expecting the remaining hours on shift to be easy.

With an hour til the end he was upstairs with the team around the TV.

“So what are the birthday plans, Buck? Hen asked.

“Uh, I have no idea. Tommy says it’s a surprise.”

“You hate surprises.” Chimney stated.

“I dunno, man - Tommy’s surprises are pretty good.” He told him with a bashful smile.

“What does he do?” Chim asked. Buck simply tilted his head and smirked. “Oh ew! No! I did not need to know that!”

“You asked.” Buck said laughing. His phone pinged in his pocket he smiled when he saw Tommys message on the Lock Screen

“Call this birthday gift number 1. ”

He unlocked his phone to see the attached picture and the second his eyes met with the image on screen he quickly tried to hide his phone away so nobody else would see but fumbled it his hands, sending the phone flying out of his hand and onto the floor by chimneys feet.

“I got it.” Chim said reaching down.

“No Chim don’t…!”

It was too late. Chimney saw the image on the screen and immediately threw the phone onto the sofa.

“OH GO NO! NO NO NO NO!” He jumped off the sofa, head in his hands. “WHY DIDNT YOU WARN ME?!”

“I tried!” Buck argued.

“How am I supposed to look Tommy in the eye ever again after seeing that?!”

“What was it?” Hen asked.

Buck turned to look at her. “You don’t want to know.” He said.

“I have never once in my life wished I didn’t have the power of sight. Until today Buckley.” He narrowed his eyes at Buck.

“I’m going to finish packing my bag.” Buck said quickly making his way down to the locker room.

Once alone he opened up the photo to look at it again.

Tommy was laying back on his bed, completely naked and glistening from the shower. The angle was from his groin angled upward - his thick, heavy and rock hard cock in his hand.

Bucks mouth went dry at the sight of Tommys cock and he had to every ounce of willpower he could muster to not get a raging hard on himself. He snot off a quick reply.

“How are you this fucking hot?!”

“P.s you may have scarred Chim for life.”

“Hey Buck.” He turned to Bobby walking into the locker room. He quickly locked his phone, shoving it in his back pocket so Bobby didn’t have a repeat of Chims experience.

“Why don’t you head home.”

“I’ve still got like 45 minutes of my shift left, Cap.”

“Call it your second birthday gift from me.” He said.

“Second?” Buck asked confused.

“Who you think made sure you had the same 72 hours off as Tommy?”

“Has anybody ever told you that you’re the best Cap ever?” Buck grinned.

Bobby laughed. “Go home. Say hi to Tommy from me.”

He set a record for how quick he could change and get into his car.

Buck was mauled the second he walked into Tommy’s house. Tommy had him up against door before he even had a chance to put down his bag.

His mouth was hot and wet as it worked in sync with Bucks; Tommy’s tongue chasing his own. Every inch of his skin exploded in goosebumps as Tommys tongue licked along his jaw and down his neck. Buck breathed heavily outward at the wet sensation. He hadn’t said a single word since he walked in the door and was too worked up to even formulate words.

Tommys hands pulled down bucks sweatpants and boxers in one swoop letting Bucks already leaking cock spring forward. He got down on his knees without a word and took Buck whole.

“Oh fuck!” Buck cried out, finding his words. Tommy often like to tease Buck, working him effortlessly slowly until he was a babbling mess begging to come. But not tonight.

Tommy immediately began taking Buck to the back of his throat with speed. Buck hands tried to grab onto to door, the door frame.. anything to stop himself from buckling. He couldn’t think, he could barely breathe.

“Holy fuck.. Tom…” He panted. Every vein in his body caught fire as loud sharp whines echoed in the entryway.

“Ohmygod…ohmygod..” words pouring from his mouth almost incoherently as Tommy grabbed his ass pulling him forward to take his cock as far down his throat as he could get it.

One of Bucks hands grabbed at Tommys head, holding into his hair for some kind of leverage. Or maybe it was to make sure that he was still alive because he was starting to suspect that he’d somehow died on the drive over and this was in fact heaven.

His body began to tremble as he sped closer and closer to the edge.

“Fuck Tommy.. I… I can’t… oh god!” Every layer of bucks skin was vibrating, every hair standing on end. He couldn’t take it any more. He was so fucking close. Tommys hand shifted on his ass and the tip of his finger made context with his rim.

He didn’t even enter Buck, just the touch was enough to send him spiralling and he shot thick stings of come into Tommys throat with a loud cry. Tommy hummed in response which just make him come even harder.

He slid his head back, licking up every last drop of Evan that had leaked. Bucks head fell back against the door with a bang. He was vaguely aware of it hurting but he quite frankly didn’t have any brain cells left to care.

Once Buck was cleaned of any residue, Tommy pulled his sweats and boxers back up and stood up to give Buck a long slow and firm kiss.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart.” He took Bucks hand and led him to the kitchen to eat the dinner the dinner Tommy had ready for him.

Best fucking birthday ever.