#phil whatever his last name was

[radioactive-earthshine]

I genuinely did love Nat's relationship with "Boris" from the Steel comics because it was never a physical romance, it was more based on two lonely teens finding comfort in each other and being able to just BE teenagers. They did silly things, they said silly things and they really did remind me of what it was like to be a teenager and have a friend that you might have said was a romantic partner, and there was a sort of youthful love and joy attached to it, but it wasn't the sort of relationship that is pushed in most media that people demand to see represented. It was nice to just see them banter and be teens.

It also made way for Natasha coming out as a Lesbian later due to her apparent disinterest in physical relationships, and romantic relationships, with boys.

[sootsz]

qsmp has accidentally stumbled into a psychology experiment that would make the stanford prison experiment sob in fear. they’ve gotten a bunch of cc’s, and tens of thousands of viewers, to be deeply emotionally connected to pixel eggs. in doing so they’ve presented a problem:

how the fuck do you get outta this

the eggs were obviously never intended to be permanent (logging on every day to do tasks isn’t feasible to upkeep forever) and they were even given a vague limit of When Mama Dragon Comes Back (and then, of course, the “6 days til they die” thing). now you’ve made it so quackity (and his team) have a big ol dilemma, where two things are true: 1) they can’t keep the eggs forever since it’s not sustainable 2) you can’t take away the eggs without, oopsies, emotionally damaging your friends that you invited to have fun on your server.

turns out, when you give a group of humans all their own fully-realized individual who presents as a (weak, vulnerable) child that is in need of care from them, whatever instinct has kept us alive for generations goes “!!!!!” which is both really cool and compassionate, but also kinda concerning!

because, well: not sustainable! and if the eggs aren’t sustainable, what’s the alternative? killing them?? no! just look at jaiden’s reaction to bobby “losing” a life, even when it wasn’t his last one. or bad’s genuinely heart wrenching reaction to dapper losing a life. or how quiet and angry phil got after chayanne and tallulah had a “nightmare,” before it was resolved. that’s not acting. that’s real. what the hell will they do if the eggs actually die? from what i see, the cc’s are taking the “6 days til death” thing as something that’s avoidable. a threat that can be overcome. and for their sake, i hope it is.

ever played a dnd game where you actually feel insulted bc of smth someone’s pc did? yeah. that x20 because there’s SO much overlap between “streamer persona” and “literally just who they are”. and this level of roleplay character bleeding is cool, but i hope the eggs are handled carefully, or all those involved might end up actually hurt.

there’s also the whole added element of fans, many of whom only tune into the streams for egg content. the plot is very egg-centric. the roleplaying and characterization that the cc’s are doing is all centered around the eggs in one way or another. it’s been going on for a month, but it does not feel at all resolved, and plot-wise it would completely mess up so many plot threads happening if the eggs were all to go (charlie’s unresolved deal with lil j, quackity’s goal to bond with tallulah, the trial, etc etc) so if you take away the eggs, you risk messing up the whole vibe they’ve got going on, and facing backlash from fans who are also emotionally compromised by pixel eggs

we inherently want to protect the cute and vulnerable, and by god are these eggs cute and so very fragile. (then, there’s another layer of people’s own issues that they project onto the eggs. be it desire for paternity, some kind of maternal instinct, or, even in the matter of chayanne, using chayanne as a sort of way to cope with loss by making connections between chayanne and technoblade. which is beautiful and very sweet but would give chayanne dying some additional emotionally charged elements which i think should be avoided at all costs). there’s a reason that movies and other media generally do not kill named children characters—audiences really hate it. it’s taboo for good reason.

which leads us to

schrodinger’s egg: until sunday, they r both alive and dead. and this is both good and bad. god help us all

[whiskeynwriting]

When You Say My Name

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Female Reader

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Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Size kink, mask kink, dirty talk, open-ish relationship, kinda cheating?, very brief mention of oral sex (f receiving), semi-public sex, unprotected vaginal sex, alcohol consumption

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A/N: Disclaimer - this is written at the point in time before Graves’ betrayal of 141. Also, I hate that bastard. Also also, Ty to @thesleepingmusicneek for beta reading 🥰

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Simon “Ghost” Riley Masterlist

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There once was a time where you were treated that way, like the center of attention, the only girl in the world. He’d keep you close, take you out, buy you drinks and gifts and truly, whatever you wanted. His attention was yours and there was no other woman in the world that could compete with it. Everything you could hope to hear, he’d tell you - you’re perfect, I love you, you’re mine. That was, until about a month ago. Now, all of those privileges have been handed off to whatever woman he deems fit for the night. But that was only supposed to be while he was on leave, not while he was home, and most certainly not in front of your goddamn face.

Easily, tears sting your eyes and a jealous lump forms heavily in your throat. Your veins feel like ice and unpleasant embarrassment creeps through your bones. Out of mere spite, you watch them, heart pounding when you hear Graves greet her with, hey doll, alongside a hug and kiss on the cheek. You thought that was only your nickname; he’d never called another woman that, not in the year you’ve been together. Or at least, that’s what you thought.

Phil told you he’d met this woman on his last deployment, and that told you everything you needed to know. You’d assumed with him coming home, you’d spend the evening together, not out at some shitty bar. Still, you came to see him, even though he was acting like he’d rather do anything else than see you. Even off the plane, he greeted you with a simple smile, a half-hug. The only man that approached you with genuine excitement, was Simon.

The hug Ghost gave you lifted your feet from the ground, tight and firm and full of happiness. He’s become a rather close friend as of late; for some reason, you find him easy to talk to. You met when Shadow Company joined 141 on their latest missions, no more than a few months ago now. And since then, you’ve managed to greet each other after every mission, making sure to send the other off when the next trip came around, too. And in between those occasions, Phil would often find the two of you on base together, usually in one of the common rooms. You’d be eating together, or playing pool, sometimes cards. Friendship was the word you often used, but Graves never fully bought it. Slowly but surely, jealousy crept up inside him, and you were more than aware of it.

Right now, though, that nasty, green emotion is consuming you. Your blood boils while you watch him continue to flirt, keeping an arm around her back and a hand securely on her hip. Graves buys her a shot, and then a drink, things he didn’t do for you when you joined him at the bar all but fifteen minutes ago. But then they’re sitting down together and she’s running her hand up his thigh and Christ, you feel like you’re going to be sick. As soon as he approached her, you retreated to the back of the pub, finding the farthest, darkest booth to sulk in. And still, you watch them, torturing yourself.

“All by yourself back here?”

“Fuck,” Jolting, your head snaps up, eyes falling on the bulky figure that is Simon Riley. “Hey, I… yeah.”

“Why’s that?” Casually, he makes himself comfortable, taking the seat across from you with a light sigh. It was something you bonded over, being loners. This type of scene wasn’t his thing, so of course, he came and found you.

Lifting both hands, he sets two glasses on the table, pushing one toward you. “For me?” You ask with a humorous smile, and he nods.

“That fruity thing you like.” Ghost responds before pulling up the edge of his mask to nurse his bourbon. And although you’re in no mood for company, his presence is comforting. Honestly, there’s no one else you’d rather have join you. “Why’re you alone, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart, a name that fell from his lips often. But only for you. Something Graves never liked.

The sentiment behind the name fills you with warmth, alongside the fact that he remembered your drink order. His entire presence prompts a new brew of emotions to swirl inside of you, clashing incredibly with the negativity brought on by Phil.

“Didn’t wanna see any more of that.” Jerking your head in Phil’s direction, you sigh, rolling your eyes.

“Yeah, I, uh…” Ghost looks over as well, taking in the situation. “I’d consider that cheating, if it were me.” He’s honest, he always is.

A huff of annoyance leaves your lips; his comment only stirs the embers that were once settling in your gut. “Yeah, well, lucky for him it’s not.”

“What?” Simon scoffs, turning back toward you. You’re not able to see his expressions, not with that balaclava in the way. In fact, you can hardly see any of his features. With his black hood pulled up, that mask on and even those boney gloves covering his fingers, he’s quite hidden. Something you’ve always found alluring about him.

“Yeah…”

“Pardon my prodding, but…” Leaning in, Simon scoffs once again, a type of chuckle bouncing from his lips. “What kind of sense is that?”

Since the very first day you met, Simon had an interest in you. He thought you were gorgeous; a cute, sexy little thing that he wanted to keep close to him. That, on top of his general dislike for Graves, made it easy for him to disapprove of your relationship. And he wasn’t ever too subtle about it, either.

One big, dramatic sigh leaves your mouth, your head tilting back against the booth. “It’s complicated.”

He just shrugs. “Fill me in.” Leaning back, he takes another sip from his glass, watching the way your eyes follow his movements. Ghost allows you to take in this small sight, his scarred skin, his growing stubble, the view not many are given. Intriguing. “Unless, you’d rather I just go…”

“No.” Your response is instant. “No, I don’t want you to go. I just… I don’t want you to think badly of him.”

“By the looks of it, he doesn’t seem to care what anyone thinks of him.” And you figure, he’s right. Phil isn’t exactly being secretive about this.

“He, well… he asked me for a, um… an open… relationship.” Ghost simply hums, a thoughtful noise as he nods. “He asked for it about a month ago.”

An open relationship, he thinks. Does that mean… she can sleep with other people, too?

“And you agreed to that?”

Another big sigh. “Yeah.”

“But you didn’t want to?” It’s almost like Simon is laying this out for you, trying to get you to see that Graves is just using you. Clearly, this arrangement isn’t fair.

“I… ugh. Yeah. I just didn’t want to cut things off completely, but… it looks like I should’ve just taken the hit. Would’ve been a hell of a lot easier than this.”

“He’s been with other women?” Ghost clarifies, trying to get the full picture. It baffles him, honestly. How could one man be so disloyal? And to you, of all people?

“Yep, quite a few. He tells me almost every time. Claims the honesty is good.”

Simon laughs at this. “Or he’s just clearing his conscience.”

“Exactly.”

A small lull wafts through your conversation, and in this pause, Simon knows what he wants to say. He knows what he wants to ask and absolutely has the balls to ask it. But is it the right time? Would you find his prodding offensive? Genuinely, he does cherish your friendship, but he’s wondering if this is his chance to make it something more.

“And have you?” Simon finally asks, the words coming out gently.

“Hm?”

“Been with anyone?”

The question isn’t exactly shocking. It’s no secret that Simon is interested in you, and with the way the conversation is going, it was only a matter of time before he asked.

“No, it didn’t interest me. I mean, not at first, anyway.” You’re speaking so openly that you don’t even register that you’ve said it before it leaves your mouth. And when it does, your face runs hot, wondering if he caught on to your wording.

“At first?” Of course he caught onto it. Would she be open to it? He wonders enthusiastically, Do I really have a chance of this going my way?

“Yeah, but I’m starting to think…” Fuck it. “Why not?” A dry laugh comes from your throat, rolling your eyes. “Maybe I should just start moving on.”

With excitement stirring inside him, Simon tries his best to suppress the expression on his still-exposed lips, which are now tilting upward into a mischievous grin. This is just what he wants to hear. And now that you’ve given him somewhat of an opening, he thinks he’ll shoot his shot. “Well… you know I’m always here for you.��

“Yeah?” Laughing at his comment, you look up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Would he… would he really do this?

With a wicked smile, Simon squints his eyes at you. Hand wrapped firmly around his glass, those thick fingers slide over the condensation, gaze never parting from your own. “I think you know what it means.”

All too often, all too much, these sinful thoughts have crossed his mind. He’s indulged in them, fantasizing about you every time he got the chance. Thinking about how your perfect ass would look bouncing back against him, lubed up with your velvety heat swallowing him whole. Those pretty lips, what would they look like with your cheeks bulging, throat desperately trying to accommodate him? The way you sway your hips makes him want to pin you down, shove himself inside just to watch his dick press against your belly.

Ghost’s offer, or what seems to be an offer, is shocking to you. Finally, you think; a blatant display of his interest. You were starting to think he’d never make a move.

With one last glance over at Phil, you make an easy decision. Seeing him so blatantly disregard not only you, but your entire relationship, has you fuming. And feeling this much pain makes you want to hurt him back. What better way to do that than with Simon? The same man Graves has been jealous of, the same man you’ve wanted for months.

With a flirtatious smirk, you rest your elbows on the table, leaning your weight onto them. The circumstance has butterflies swarming your stomach, but there isn’t a single ounce of hesitancy inside. Just pure, simple excitement.

“Why don’t you spell it out for me?” Now, you need to get the full picture. The last thing you want is to make an even bigger fool of yourself tonight by assuming things.

“I want you.” Simon returns easily. “And you know it, too.”

Playing coy, you shrug, sitting back in your seat. “I don’t know anything. You’ve never made a move.” And your teasing prompts a deep breath from him.

“Well, if I knew about this situation a little sooner, I might’ve.” Eyeing you up and down, Simon’s gaze is slow, saturating your body with his attention. “The late nights we’ve had, those moments on the couch, those sweet hugs every time I come home…”

“I like seeing you come home.” It’s hard to play dumb when you so desperately want him too.

“I wanna come home to you.”

Finally, he’s won, he’s gotten in the last word. Because now, you’re simply stunned. Words escape you, your lips parting in shock. From the way he’s phrasing it, Simon isn’t looking for a simple hookup. He’s interested in you.

“I’ll tell you what,” Ghost then offers, downing the rest of his drink. “I’m gonna head out for a smoke. Whether or not you choose to follow me, is your choice.”

Standing, he steps toward the door, only a few feet from where you’re both seated in the back. But before he leaves, he glances down at you, gently tapping your chin with his thumb. “You know what I want.”

He’s giving you a chance to think this over, to really decide what you want. Because to him, this means more than sex, and you know that.

“Didn’t even have a chance to light a cig.” Simon chuckles, watching you approach him through the dark.

When you find him, he’s leaning up against the bar’s outer wall, cigarette in hand. And when he leans upright, standing to his full height again, you’re mesmerized. Alluring doesn’t do this man justice.

With a small sigh, Ghost watches you step into his space, one gloved hand lifting to your face. He cups it then, swipes his thumb over the bone of your cheek. And his touch feels invigorating on your skin.

“You gonna tell me what you want?”

Offering a small nod, you keep his gaze, something he likes. “You.”

And this time, it’s a gravely sigh, a firm breath as he holds your face with both hands. Easily, smoothly, he’s bringing himself down to you, watching as you rise to the tips of your toes to meet him. You grab onto his forearms, feeling his breath against your face, his lips against your own. And it’s everything you imagined it would be. His kiss is firm and determined; he tastes like betrayal and excitement, like an antidote mixed with poison.

Already, he’s shoving his tongue past your lips and into your mouth, moaning quietly when you reciprocate the action. He doesn’t have an ounce of restraint in him, not anymore, not when you’re acting like this. The eagerness he exudes is so easily returned, like the two of you have been waiting for this moment. And honestly, you don’t know why you haven’t thought about this before. You’re in an open relationship and you haven’t even considered fucking Ghost?

Soft groans vibrate against your mouth before he’s whispering, “C’mere.”

To your delight, he pulls you further in, dropping his hands from your face to your waist. Your height difference prompts him to dive even further down, mouthing at you with an unexpected amount of desire. It fills your insides with excitement, with lust, your nerves sizzling as you continue to chase his touch. And on his end, Simon can barely catch his fucking breath. He’s been waiting for this, fucking dreaming of this. Being this close to you has his heart pounding, his adrenaline rushing.

Naturally, your hands move from his arms to his neck, holding him in the way you’ve been wanting to for so many months. And you think now, Graves finally has something to be jealous of.

“You want me?” Simon asks again, smile growing against your lips. Boldly, those broad palms find your ass, squeezing harshly.

There hasn’t been a single goddamn day in your relationship with Graves where you felt this good, this desired, this genuinely wanted. The way Simon kisses you is dizzying and he tastes like fucking nirvana. Everything about this man is a turn on, from his strength and power to the raw masculinity you so obviously drool over. You’ve longed for this, dreamt about this, what it would feel like to kiss him, touch him, fuck him.

“Yes, yeah.” Your nod is rapid, fingers petting along that sharp jawline.

“I want you; I want you, sweetheart.” He’s mumbling against your lips, moaning wantonly when your tongue makes its way into his mouth. Eagerly, he returns the sentiment, running the wet muscle over your own in slow, heated strokes. “I want you now.”

Regardless of his wording, you don’t expect him to pull you back the way he does, yanking you into the bar’s side alley. Pushing you into the cold, brick wall, Simon presses himself to your back, whispering gruffly into your ear, “That too rough for you?”

Already, he’s rubbing himself against your ass, grinding himself over your taught jeans and wrapping both arms around your belly. Those sinfully sweet lips then find a home on your neck, along your jaw. Everything is moving so fast that it has your heart racing, blood rushing, arousal flooding your system and burning hot between your legs.

Before you can respond, he’s reaching up with both hands, fondling you over your shirt. And the unexpected action has a shiver running throughout the entirety of your body, feeling those broad palms fist your breasts, running his thumbs over the nipples, groping them with overt enthusiasm.

“Perfect fucking tits…”

“No,” Meeting his actions, you soon form a rhythm, swaying your hips back against him. “I like, like when you’re rough.” It’s almost embarrassing, the way you stutter. But you can’t find it in you to care, not when he groans with approval against the base of your neck.

Even through his jeans, you can feel him, hanging thick and heavy between his legs. Continually, he ruts his crotch against your ass, holding you close while breathing humid breaths down your neck and back.

“Fuck… you already feel so fucking good.”

“Yeah?” Ghost chuckles, grabbing onto your hips. “I can make you feel better.”

“Please.” It’s taking everything in you to not reach behind and pull off his mask, to not run your fingers through his hair and tug on the strands.

“Here?” He clarifies, more than willing. And you’ve never done anything close to this but you’ve also never been more excited in your entire goddamn life.

“Yeah,” Nodding, you gulp, feeling dizzy from his affection. “Yes, baby.”

Drunk on him and maybe your few drinks, you’re still sober enough to know you won’t regret any of this. Whether it’s a one-time thing or the start of something more, you won’t regret this.

“Mm…” Using both hands, he cups you, kneading the covered flesh of your backside with slow, firm grabs. He’s eyed you up and down so many times before tonight, imagining what it’d be like to grab you like this. But even through his unwavering lust, he has to be honest. “Haven’t got a condom, love.” It comes out as a mumble, the only time you’ve ever heard Ghost become hesitant.

“I didn’t want one.” It comes alongside a small laugh, a cheeky grin he can just barely see.

Instantly, he’s releasing a breath, moving spit-slick lips to your cheek for a quick kiss. “Perfect girl.” With a pleasant smile of his own, he drops his chin to your shoulder, fingers moving to undo your jeans. And the small ounce of praise has your insides flaming. “My girl.”

His, his.

Keeping his chin against your shoulder, he glances down, sighing when he pushes your jeans past the swell of your backside. Another squeeze, eyes glued to the sight of your bare skin, just as soft and smooth as he’d always imagined. Briefly, he wants to drop to his knees, kiss the sweet flesh he’s only gotten small teases of, bite into it, mark it. But he doesn’t have time for that, not when you’re out in public like this.

Unzipping his fly and popping the button on his pants is quick work, and though the lull is brief, your anticipation continues to grow evermore. You can feel the moment he’s free, resting himself between your cheeks. He’s hot to the touch, and noticeably throbbing.

“Baby…” Slowly, he slides, up and down between your cheeks. A wet trail quickly forms, his prespend smearing across your lower back.

“You want me?” He says it while slithering a hand around to your front, hooking two fingers into your panties so he can pull them down. Forgoing his aggressive nature for this moment, for you, two fingers then find your throbbing nerves, his touch sweet and delicate.

“Yes.”

“Need you to say it, love.” His entire body is pressed against your back, keeping you warm and safe. “Need you to tell me.”

Thick fingers toy with your entrance, dipping inside to get a small taste of your wetness, and it feels like fireworks are going off inside your stomach. He then drags both digits up to your clit, circling it while kissing your neck.

“I want you,” Lolling your head back onto his shoulder, you’re surprised at how quickly he then moves. Instantly, he’s retracting his hand and pumping himself against your ass, using the other to spread you open.

“Say it again.” Ghost requests, pressing himself against your thin skin, your pink lips.

“I want you.”

With his swollen tip spreading you open from behind, he pushes forward, groaning openly at your welcoming warmth. Every inch is intimidating, the push of his hips forcing you to accommodate him. Which is easy, especially when he licks up your neck, kissing your jawline and cheek. It’s sloppy, the way he mouths at you, the passion he gives you.

“Simon,” Both palms help to steady yourself against the wall as he continues, shoving himself inside inch by devastating inch. Christ, you can’t even imagine what it’d be like to have him in your mouth.

“Fucking hell,” A forced breath, like the wind had just been knocked from his lungs. It’s only released when he’s entirely inside, pelvis flush with your ass. “Christ, love when you say my name.”

Both of those strong arms then wrap themselves around your center, keeping you entirely against him. Almost naturally, you’re dropping a hand, cupping the space between your legs. You can’t help it, you just want to feel him, your fingertips caressing his base, his scrotum. And that has him losing his goddamn mind, throbbing against your walls in return. Nosing gently over your head, he groans - hums, the simple action showing him just how much you adore this.

Running a hand down your outer thigh, Ghost begins to move, his actions slow but firm. And every drag lights your insides on fire; it’s such an adrenaline rush to finally have him inside.

“How can that bastard ignore you like that?” Simon mumbles, more so to himself than anything else. “Look so fucking sexy in this… perfect body, in these tight little jeans.”

“Baby…” His thrusts are becoming quicker, harder, working himself up to the breaking point that’s soon to come. But not too fast, he wants to make this last.

“Been wanting to feel you since Graves brought you to base.” Ghost suddenly admits, the smack of his pelvis against your skin beginning to radiate into the night.

The words he’s using are truly a force to be reckoned with, every single syllable melting you to absolute putty at his feet. He sounds so serious and genuine, so dominant, so possessive. This is everything you’ve wanted.

Breathless, you look back at him, an adoring smirk crossing your face. “Really?”

“Fuck, yes.” Nipping aggressively at your neck, he moans, Ghost fucking moans.

“You should’ve said something earlier then.”

And at that comment, you think back to Phil. Should you really be doing this? You know it will upset him; but whether or not he has a right to be upset has yet to be determined.

“Yeah? Would you have chosen me instead?” Bringing you back to the present is that gravelly voice, deep and beautifully accented.

Yeah… fuck Graves, and fuck that relationship.

“Yes.”

“Yeah?” Simon asks again, pleasantly surprised by your answer.

“Fuck yes.” Reaching back, you find his head, hand sliding down the nape of his neck. You need to hold onto him, somehow, you need to feel more of him.

Honestly, you would have. And you don’t care if that makes you a shitty person or a shitty girlfriend; you gave your all to Phil and he took it for granted.

“You really mean that, sweetheart?”

“Yes, baby. I’m so happy you want me.” Forcing yourself back against him, you bounce off his pelvis, driving him deeper inside.

“Christ,” Dropping his head, his face falls to your bare shoulder, mouthing at you again and again.

Laughing, you chastise him gently. “You’re gonna leave a mark.”

“Want to.” Comes his returned mumble, hands securing themselves to your hips. “Fuck.”

It’s like he can’t even see straight; feeling the gorgeous woman that you are rolling your hips back against him. Asking for more, pulling him in for more.

In the middle of the night, half naked in a fucking backalley, you feel so incredibly exposed; but Ghost makes it feel like you’ve been doing this together all your lives. He touches you like he knows you, like he’s done it a million times. It’s comforting, his presence exuding a warm sense of safety.

Rolling your hips backward, your brows furrow, soft moans continuing to escape you. Images of Simon’s fully naked body suddenly begin to run rampant in your mind, wishing so desperately to experience more of him. His muscles and scars, the light blonde hair leading down to his pelvis, his broad back and wide hands. You want to touch every inch of him, hold him, feel him.

Christ, did you pick the wrong man when you met them. Simon feels so incredibly different than Graves; veinier, thicker. Every inch forces you open, spreads your legs just a bit wider, makes your whines just a little bit higher. It hurts so good and you can’t help but cry out for him.

“Oh… I love that.” Simon admits, slowing to a harsh grind against your ass.

“Baby,”

“You like how that feels?” Pulling out only about an inch or so, he shoves himself back in, harsh but not aggressive.

Simon’s body reacts so openly to your own, his lungs shivering with every breath just from the feeling, the sensation of your warmth. And every movement creates a delicious force of friction between your bodies, heat building, arousal peaking.

“Give me control,” He rumbles deeply into your ear, lips briefly brushing by. “Let me show you how good it can be.”

You can smell the bourbon on his breath, can feel the way he grabs for your hips and ass. And at that moment, you fully give in, halting your sultry motions and letting him do whatever the fuck he wants.

“Keep holding onto me like that,” He requests, feeling your nails dig into the skin of his neck.

“Yeah?”

“Fuck, it turns me on.”

“Simon, fuck I, I can’t…”

“Can't what, sweetheart?” He’s kissing all over your face, your cheek and chin and jaw, sloppy movements to match his increasingly erratic thrusts.

“Can’t believe I didn’t choose you.”

And that shoots a surge of energy through his bones, his thrusts now the product of his unwavering strength. It forces you to shriek, to cry out for him and release the most beautifully whorish sound Simon’s ever heard in his entire life. He fucks into you relentlessly, one arm sliding up to grope your chest again.

“We’re not being very subtle.” Choking out the words, you huff, feeling him punch against your most delicate spot.

“Don’t give a damn.” Comes his mumbled response, mouthing at your neck. “You’re mine, and I want Graves to see.”

“Really, baby?” Your breaths are rapid and heavy, lightheaded from everything you’re experiencing.

“Unless you tell me no, unless I hear otherwise, you’re mine.”

Dipping a hand down, he finds your precious little bud, rubbing firm circles into it. Immediately, your hips jerk beneath his touch, gasps floating from your throat.

“Look how responsive you are,” Nuzzling into your cheek, he kisses it. “Pretty little lover.”

“Baby,” Said alongside a breathless smile, you open your eyes, wishing to see his. “You’re so fucking perfect, baby.”

He feels so warm around you, inside you, keeping you beneath the sturdy barricade of his arms. You want to be his, more than anything in this moment.

“How could any man stray away from you?” He wonders aloud. “Perfect fucking cunt, gorgeous goddamn face.”

Repeatedly, he sinks in to the hilt, bouncing his hips back and forth with easy sways, slapping himself against the seam of your slippery cunt. He wants more than anything to feel your body, your bare skin, have you completely exposed to him. And he’s promising himself that he’ll make that happen.

“Christ, babe,” Huffing out a flurry of rapid breaths, he admits, “I’m close.”

“Baby, fuck.” A whimper slips from your mouth, eyes shutting firmly. You can feel the way he pulses against your walls, can feel the stutter in his hips.

The heat of euphoria curls tightly in his abdomen, the combination of arousal and possession pushing him over the edge. It’s fierce, powerful, legs shaking and breath punching from his chest. But still, he remembers to pull out, free hand shoving your jacket up while the other fists himself. Hot spurts shoot over your lower back, trickling down your ass. It’s sticky and wet but it turns you on more than anything, feeling him cum on you like this.

“Simon,” Arching your back for him, you listen to his ragged breaths, feeling how rapidly he pumps his shaft.

“Fuck me,” Ghost finally speaks, slowing his movements and taking a look at the mess he’s made. “Fuck me…”

Leaning further in, he sighs, kissing the back of your neck while tucking himself away. He’s careful to not get any of his own spend on his hoodie, but when he pulls away, realizes he got some on your jacket by accident.

“Shit, sorry about that.”

“Huh?” Turning around, you finally face him, blissed out expressions taking in the other’s. Briefly, he smiles, until he explains, “Got a little bit on your jacket.”

Surprisingly, you huff a sarcastic laugh, slipping your arms from the material and dropping it to the ground. “It was Phil’s, anyways.”

“Well shit,” Ghost exclaims, picking it up again. “Would've gotten a lot more on it if I’d known that.” All you do is roll your eyes, with the slightest smirk. “Turn around.”

He nods in your direction, watching you follow his request. Using the jacket he cleans his cum off your back, wiping it away before discarding the clothing once again. And then Ghost is pressing himself against your back, kissing your neck while pulling up your pants. He zips them, buttons them, feeling your cheeks plump with a grin.

“Si?”

“Yeah, love?”

Turning around in his hold, you release a wavering breath, hands sliding up his forearms. “Are you sure this is what you want?” Your voice is soft and quiet, hesitant. “I know it’s difficult, when you’re on leave…”

“Not for me.” Instantly, you give him a look of apprehension. But he just shrugs. “Don’t really fancy the barracks bunnies we get. And with the looks of you…” Reaching out, he cups your chin, fingers pressing lightly into your cheeks. “Pretty thing you are… I won’t have a problem being loyal.”

Suddenly, he’s removing himself from you, sliding his arms from the confines of his black hoodie. “Wanna head back to the bar?” He asks while shuffling out of the sleeves, finally taking it off his body. “Or back to base?”

“I don’t really wanna go back in there…” Your response is incredibly timid, not wanting to disappoint him if he wants to stay out.

“Perfect.” If he hasn’t made it clear, Simon isn’t exactly a people person. And then, to your dismay, he pulls down his mask, hiding that gorgeous grin. “Here, love. It’s chilly out.”

He’s handing you his hoodie, the black one he was just wearing. And when you take it in your hands, you realize it has his rank and last name on the back.

“Really?” You’ve never had anything like this, Graves never wanted you to wear anything with his name on it.

“Put it on, babe.” He nods once, cupping your jaw and giving your cheek a kiss through the cloth of his mask. “Keep it.”

[moltengoldveins]

hm yes emduo and bedrock bros and the eggs in Space. Phil is one of the last surviving members of a fragile but technically immortal species of elytrians that is now only whispered about in fairy tales. He’s a private investigator and enforcer (space pirate and muscle) for his beloved wife’s galaxy-wide uhhh….. Independent illegal group of people dedicated to protecting order and monitoring corruption? Gang of space pirates who steal from rich people? League of assassins but with morals? Unclear what the Syndicate Is Exactly but it sure do Be. He’s the pilot for the SBI Boreas, a light cruiser with a frankly Absurd munitions outfit. (Tubbo’s his mechanic) 

Techno is a member of the only recognized sentient deathworlder species, an odd mix of orc, elf, and pig features, and is by all accounts a living legend, or a living nightmare. He’s solidly twice the size of most other species, capable of surviving injuries what most would deem a death sentence, and a highly trained warrior to boot. Now, by all human accounts the texts of his people are pretty self-explanatory, (the Art of War is 89% Common Sense by volume) but in a galaxy of peaceful races on peaceful planets, it’s complex and brutal enough to be nigh-incomprehensible. He’s on a Lot of watchlists, but he’s also the like… platonic third partner in Phil and Madam Kristin, The Lady Of Death TM’s marriage??? So not a lot can be Done about him. 

Tommy is a younger avian teen (distant relation to the elytrians, definitely Not Immortal) who Techno found breaking into the Boreas and decided to keep (Phil took one look and his Dad Instincts kicked in) and his life is going swimmingly until he gets Yoinked for leverage against his dads and mum. The organization who gets him runs a blood sport colosseum, and while in transit his cage was stuck next to this weird hairless thing?? Chained with like Heavy Duty restraints. Tommy doesn’t have a ton of time to bond with this Strange Thing before the hostage negotiations happen, but they do manage to exchange names and Tommy decides with his classic impulsive passion that This Thing And He Are Brothers For Life Now. then the negotiations immediately go south, there’s a bit of a standoff, and Techno ends up trading himself for Tommy, which is what the organization wanted in the first place. They run a Reeeeally expensive exotic show for super Rich Jerks in an undisclosed location and Techno is their latest attraction. They’re also painfully cocky, and will be dying with extreme prejudice the moment Mumza gets her claws in them. 

So Techno gets Got and shoved in a high-security cell once they reach the colosseum, along with, surprise! This strange hairless creature with four limbs. It’s Chayanne, who is A Very Human Teenager who Did Not Want To Be Abducted By Aliens, Thank You. They’re both deathworlders, which Techno Does Not Realize until they get assigned to the same team a few weeks into the battles and watches Chay rip a bug man’s limbs off (Chay is Not having a good day. His dad (Missa) taught him self defense and was a martial artist, a butcher, and a rather morbid man, so some Relevant Knowledge and some general chillness around death is to be expected, but Not a chillness around KILLING PEOPLE FOR SPORT) Techno thinks this must be a fully grown adult whatever-it-is all the way until Chay breaks down crying and sounds Just Like a shoat (baby pig) and Techno feels the Dad Instinct rising again. 

Meanwhile, Halfway Across The Galaxy: the government has been developing space flight, but are really only at the borders of our solar system when they catch some aliens in the act of Yoinking another kid, this time from an orphanage (Tallula) they don’t manage to save her, but Holy Crap ALIENS???? Missa, who saw a bit of his son’s abduction but not enough to know exactly what happened, sees the news broadcast, puts two and two together and gets plot advancement. He starts pulling strings, asking about old connections in the space force (Cosmonaut Fit Emsi, godfather to Chayanne and Missa’s college best friend, may or may not be involved in the Turning Of Blind Eyes) and manages to get access to a hanger bay with a captured alien ship in it a few months after the incident in what might be the coolest heist sequence ever not-actually-written. (It’s very cool in my head, think Oceans 11 but the majority of the qsmp cast, trust me I swear.) He launches himself right into space and proceeds to systematically work his way through spaceport after waystation after colony planet in search of The Aliens Who Steal Human Kids (Specifically My Son) 

Techno is at this point playing the long game. He knows Kristin and Phil aren’t about to leave him hanging, and that they have enough firepower to burn this place to the ground, but he’s not sure when that’s gonna happen or how he’s gonna get Chay out. Meanwhile, Chay has No Idea what this strange Exceedingly Chill Pig Man has going on, but as far as he’s concerned, this is his life now. Forever. And making allies is important. They start trading languages and Techno starts teaching Chay katas (modified for the drastically different joint structure) in their free “big open space enrichment time.” (Side note: what aliens consider almost horrific cruel and unusual punishment is at worst severely unpleasant for humans. They just can’t take psychologically what humans can, so they kinda Have to treat their slaves better than we would. Doesn’t mean it’s good treatment, but it does mean Chay and Techno are both doing significantly better than they could be.)

Finally, Phil and Kristen rock up to the party incognito, dressed to the nines and attending a Big Event To Show Off Our New Deathworlders. They see Techno in the ring and have to Play It Cool, but he seems to be doing ok actually, so that’s good. Eventually the Head Honcho Man gets into a discussion with Phil right by the viewing window, so Phil has to pretend he’s fine when he sees a door open in the arena and A @:&;!ING HUMAN STEP OUT AND SQUARE OFF WITH HIS BEST FRIEND. (Shockingly, being immortal tends to inform you of such things like Secret Deathworlds and their Scary Inhabitants) Kristin is of course Immediately On The Move, but it turns out to be not necessary: Chay just kinda strolls up to Techno and gives him a side hug (bLEASE, you want me to fight my Roommate? Get out) and while Phil is laughing to himself, the Head Honcho gets maaaaad. He pulls it around though, announcing that he “already knew the two monsters had bonded the way only such vicious creatures could, and will be giving them a challenge only they could hope to face!!” And releases, like, four of the heccin Dune sand worms into the arena. Techno and Chay proceed to fight like demons while Phil and his squad take out the party and Kristen and her squad sweep the lower levels of the colosseum in an effort to keep More Worms out of the arena. Slavers die horribly. The end. 

Meanwhile, halfway across the galaxy: Missa returns!! Now with Even More Rage! His ship has broken down and because he ain’t got no Space Green Card, he’s got to get it repaired at a place that’ll take anyone. Enter Tubbo Underscore, Syndicate Member and Tinkerer Extraordinaire. Tubbo takes one look at this guy and goes “yeah that’s not a normal guy there’s something Wrong here” and through a series of pointed questions (and aggressive preening by Benson, a rather horrifying eldritch duck-dog thing the size of a small horse) Missa eventually explains why he’s in space. Tubbo, having just recently repaired Philza H Minecraft’s ship on its way to wipe out a gladiator ring, puts two and two together to make more plot, explains his Theory, and decides to accompany Missa, getting them into the next Syndicate raid on this organization. They, along with an undercover agent by the code name of Boo (It’s a word in Old Enderian that means ‘Eldritch’ or ‘Unknowable.’ Missa has to choke to keep from laughing) storm a freighter and rescue a bunch of valuable slaves and also!! Sunny and Tallulah! They have different first languages, Sunny was treated Significantly Cushier by the slavers than Lulah bc she was younger and viewed a bit more like a pet than a fighter, and they haven’t really spoken to one another before the rescue, so their rough start happens at this point. Cue Missa and Tubbo # Struggling to keep these two feral children from each others throats while they keep searching (‘Chay was literally never this bloodthirsty, the heck???’ -Missa, holding two backpack leashes apart while the girls are trying to strangle each other) 

Meanwhile on the Boreas: CHAY AND TOMMY REUNION POG???? Techno formally adopts Chay according to his culture (think Mandalorian, but to the left) and Chay has enough language to understand, but not enough to inquire about, yknow, whether Going Back To Earth is an option. As far as the Boreas crew know, it isn’t: Earth is a no-fly zone and Chay’s been out here for nearly a year and a half. They have no idea how they’d begin to get him home. 

Then finally, on a Syndicate-owned spaceport in the middle of nowhere, Missa finds the Boreas and sees his kid across a crowded bazaar. They hug, it’s super dramatic, very tearful, (Phil and Kristen are already planning his room on the ship: if they’re gonna coparent, they’re gonna do it Right) and after a bit of waffling, both Chay and Missa decide it’s for the best if they spend some time in space before heading back to earth, what with the whole “definitely stole a star fighter and wanted by the government, the entire world knows about aliens now” bit. There is fluff. There is cultural sharing. There is hair braiding. It’s amazing. 

Then comes my literal favorite space au trope Ever: a few days into the new and improved Boreas gang’s voyage, their ship is boarded by (shock, horror) a group of Human Pirates and the crew is Immediately captured. Turns out: it’s kinda hard to keep the existence of an entire galactic community from Everyone on Earth, and these are guys who, similar to Missa, yoinked a spaceship from their military and went rogue. (I’m putting Quackity here, cause I love charismatic villain Quackity and I think it works) they pirates are very VERY “humans are gonna expand to cover the universe” “might makes right” “come, join us, and together we can rule the galaxy” about it when they realiz Missa and Chay are aboard, and the Boreas crew honestly expects Missa and Chay to join them. They’re human! They speak the same language! They value the same things! Obviously they’re gonna take that way out, we wouldn’t even blame them! (Techno feels pretty betrayed but Phil/Kristen/Tommy just look resigned) Missa and Chay play along, pretend to hate their ‘alien captors,’ and arm themselves “to help them secure the ship.”

What follows is a rather emotionally charged but Very Very Cool sequence in which Missa and Chayanne use the skills they gained in their unfortunate struggles across the galaxy to Clean House, clearing their home the ship room by room until they’ve got a pile of bloodied and unconscious or dead humans and a very very shocked new family. There might be a bit more plot after this as the family settles, perhaps a sequel made of short stories, but this is generally the end.

The epilogue is five years later, when Fit Emsi, head of the new Intergalactic Human Intergalactic Relations Organization and Expansion Section (HIROES) has his monthly checkup call with Missa and Chay, who’re having a blast with Techno and Phil and Tommy traveling the universe. Fit calls them in to consult in cultural stuff during the negotiations with, yknow, the Actual Galactic Government, the one that views the Syndicate as a crime organization, but it’s pretty well known at this point that Mumza is In Charge Of Things on the Downlow, and Fit’s still Chay’s godfather for heavens sake: there’s simply nothing the government can Do about it. Tubbo has adopted Sunny and Chay took one look at Talulah and decided “Thats My Little Sister.” Phil apparently has had a crisis recently related to some kind of ancient evil ex long thought dead, but is on the road to recovery. Everyone lives happily ever after, the end. 

[luvneymar]

(2) ALL I WANTED WAS U — JUDE BELLINGHAM

SUMMARY: After coming back from a one-night stand with his his best friend, Jude realizes you don’t see him. He’s in love with you and you don’t see him.

PARING: bestfriend!jude x bestfriend!reader

NOTE: DRAMA?🤣 jude is a literal simp and my mission during this fic is to make sure y’all know dat !!!

“C’mon guys! Hustle! The tournament is in 3 weeks and you all are sloppy! Mount & Grealish stop giggling like schoolgirls and start running!” The coach for the men’s England World-Cup team screeched from the sidelines rubbing the sweat off his forehead as his veins bulged in anger.

The rest of the team were causally jogging just fast enough for the angry man to not yell at them but not Jude. Jude was either right behind them or right in-front of them ignoring all of them despite their best efforts to talk to the boy.

With his headphones on his ears he was in his own zone, his own space thinking about what you both had talked about just around 2 weeks ago. Your words ran laps around his mind 24/7 for the last 14 days.

“I slept with Trent.”.

“I fucked Trent.”

“I had sex with Trent.”

No matter how he worded it in his mind it was still the same, the deed had been done. You fucked him & there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. He felt like a non-consensual cuck. Stuck in a three-way that didn’t even exist.

I mean how can you not know that he’s been pining for you since forever. Ever since Trent & all his other friends constantly mentioned how hot you looked in this & how great your rack looked in that he finally saw the bigger picture & came to terms with the weird fuzzy feeling in his stomach he’d get every time you’d kiss him on the cheek or hugged him.

“Jude! Why you running all alone? Join us!” Trent yelled out signalling Saka, Phil & Marcus to slow down & wait for him to catch up. Jude hadn’t even acknowledged Trent’s call despite hearing him loud and clear. He jogged right passed them as if he hadn’t heard.

They all looked at him with a weird face jogging up towards Jude stopping him as they grabbed his shoulder stopping him from running off. “Hey didn’t you hear me? Slow down.”

Jude shrugged his hand off and tried to jog off but Trent’s hold was quite strong forcing him to stay in place placing him into a full-stop. He pulled off his headphones in anger shrugging his hand off as he turned to look at the group. “Oh my days, What!”

“Geez dude, what bug crawled up your ass?” Phil muttered through a chuckle which caused Marcus & Saka to snort causing some weird domino of laughter, Jude’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance as he motioned to place his ear phones back onto his head.

“Sorry sorry, what’s going on with you? We haven’t talked in like two weeks.” Trent asked concerned smacking Jude on his butt lightly signalling him to continue walking jogging after he caught the look of annoyance on the coach’s face.

“Nothing I’m just anxious for the tournament.” Jude brushed him off with a statement that wasn’t even true. Just seeing his face pissed him off so bad which made him angry all the time.

“Your right. France is definitely going to hand a lot of countries their asses on polished silverware.” He joked looking around to see if anyone else laughed at his joke, Jude rolled his eyes as he prayed that Trent would cut the conversation short.

How can he just make a causal conversation just weeks after he literally told him so casually that he had sex with you in details that ran laps in the right, left, front & centre part of his brain. Just thinking about it made Jude want to beat the shit out of him.

“Whatever.” He grumbled with annoyances laced in his voice.

“What’s wrong? You’ve been acting like a little bitch ever since I told you about what happened a few weeks ago.” Trent questioned also irritated that his friend was ascribe flaky.

“What happened a few weeks ago?” They all questioned, wanting to find out what was making their friend so pissy.

“Y’know (Name)? (Name, Last Name)? Jude’s friend? Yeah met her at the club we went to a 2 weeks ago and managed to get her into bed. Told Jude how mind-blowing it was and now he’s pissy.”

“Oh her? Shit I’d be mad too. She fine as fuck, I’d just be mad you got to tap that before I did.” Phil mentioned in a broken sentence unable to control his laughter.

As the group laughed Jude poked his cheek with his tongue trying remain calm & collected, it was quite hard seeing as how he was literally listening to his friend objectify you in a vulgar manner with no respect for you at all.

“Judey lighten up! There are other girls out there. Girls your age. She wouldn’t shack up with you even if you were the only man on earth. You have girls flocking after you left & right.” Marcus slapped Jude on the back after finally calming down from the laughter than had went around.

“She’s probably not into younger men anyways, I mean you just graduated high-school a few months ago. She probably graduating soon.” Trent mention remind Jude once again about the age gap you both had in.

“Won’t that make her look like a cougar anyway? Find out if she has a sister of something. You gotta forget about her.” Trent added making the group burst in laughter once again.

Hearing them home about you in that way in an attempt to try and make him feel better about the fact that you were “too old” for him just pissed him off even more.

Jude stopped in his tracks & pulled Trent by his shirt stopping him his tracks too abruptly, “Im not pissy i’m pissed you cunt, my “problem” is that you slept with my friend knowing damn well I had feelings for her you fucking ass!”

After he said nothing but chaos insured, Jude spun Trent around so he could face him as he proceeded to give him a dirties punch of the century. Trent stumbled back a bit holding his nose in pain cursing all sorts of profanities before walking up to Jude & within the same split second punching him in his eye.

“You fucking bastard.” Jude mumbled before proceeding to jump on-top of Trent punching him in his face a few times before Trent managed to roll him over getting a few punches on his face as well.

Many different rows of profanities were passed around until the group had decide to step in thinking about the nearer future & how this could effect the result of the tournament they were training for.

“Guys knock it off!” Phil shouted out trying to pull Trent away from Jude as they assaulted each other just to get punched in the nose instead, hearing the groan he let out the rest of the team turned around to see the commotion altering the coach as-well.

The coach rushes over towards the pair who had bruises & a bit of blood on both of them as they continued to drown in testosterone using their natural male instincts to figure out their differences.

“What the hell! Guys break it up now! Whatever your fighting about I promise you it isn’t worth it!” The coach yelled out standing in between the 2 men sending a reasonable distance between the two stopping them from sending anymore punches each others ways.

Once the fight had ceased to exist the coach turned to Trent seeing as how he was in worse shape than Jude with a busted lip, a head laceration & a bruised eye. “Who started the fighting?”

“That fucking cunt right there.” Trent spit out the blood that rested in his mouth before pointing to Jude who stood there with Phil trying to hold him back from trying to attack Trent once again.

“Jude come with me. Now.” Jude wiped away some of the blood from his forehead as Phil wrapped his arm around Jude helping him walk away from the circle that formed and towards the building where the coach’s office was.

Once they reached there the coach signalled Phil to exit the room as he wanted to talk to Jude alone. As soon as the door closed the coach bursted in the a fit of anger yelling at Jude as he throw different types of things off his desk onto the wall behind Jude.

“What the hell were you thinking? Has your cranium suddenly stopped working and all your common sense has been flushed down the drain?” He yelled out poking his finger into the side of his head as Jude stood there staring at his shoes that were stained with mud & some splotches of blood.

“But He—!” Jude tried explain with no avail.

“No speaking when I’m speaking! I don’t want to hear it. Your my star pupil. Hand picked from the best of the best. You cant be fighting with your companions like that.” He lectured Jude finally calming down enough to speak to him rationally.

The coach looked up at him just to see his eyes hadn’t moved from the spot on the floor it had been for the past minute, “I’m honestly disappointed Jude. I didn’t expect this from you of all people. You’re much more mature than the others even for your age.”

“Well tell that to the bastard talking shit.” Jude muttered under his breath trying to get a word in his defence.

The coach raised his eyebrow as he heard what Jude said but wanted him to say it with his chest. “Did you have something to say Bellingham?”

“No sir, sorry.”

“You’re going to apologize to him and you’re going to be benched for the a while for the starting games. That’s your punishment.” The coach walked towards the door signalling Jude to follow him.

“But I—!”

“No buts. Now get out before I start searching for a replacement for you.” Jude’s hands failed down to his sides in defeat as he walked out of the office grinding his teeth in frustration.

if you could just get a word in the coach would see how this situation wasn’t even his fault, but he knew there was no point in trying to explain himself once the coach made up his mind he made up his mind. 

 As he walked back onto the field, bandages decorated all over his face he heard the whispers from his teammates. see who was whispering about him just to see the same four who instigated the whole problem. “Look, look here he comes.”

fortunately, the rest of the practice goes smoothly without any more disturbances from Trent and Jude as the coach make sure that they were both separated heavily and did the exercise at two different times just to make sure another fight wouldn’t happen. 

—

“I’m back.” Jude announced in a solemn and dull voice like a defeated puppy, how could he possibly come back home and face you after he basically went all warrior ninja on Trent because of you. It was too embarrassing on his part.

As he works as he walked towards the common area, he heard a voice that was all too familiar to him. He couldn’t exactly put a pin on it, but he knew that it was somebody he knew. 

“Hey Jude.” You greeted him turning your head from the screen playing a random Christmas movie quickly before turning it back snuggling into the mysterious figure that rested beside you.

as he looked up from the floor, all the pieces finally came together for him the very person he beat the shit out of that very afternoon with sitting beside, you, snuggled up into your chest casually scrolling on his phone.

“What the fuck? Why is he here?” The words came flying out of his mouth before he could even stop it, you turned to look at him with a sheepish smile on your face pulling your hand from around him to fidget with your fingers.

“Well you left so abruptly this morning I wasn’t able to tell you.” You muttered pausing the movie which caused the anonymous man to look up from his phone cunning smile on his face as he waved to Jude head still semi-snuggled into your chest.

“Hey man.” Trent waved to him half-assed stupid smug smile still resting on his face.

“Don’t ‘Hey Man’ me I’ll fucking kill you.” Jude dropped his bag by the side of the couch, and walk towards chance just for you to stand up in between them, trying to stop a fight from arising.

“Jude no! No more fighting. If you have a problem make your issues vocal. Just, no more fighting. Please.” You begged him looking up at him with the eyes you had to know had an hypnotic effect on him.

“Fine.” He muttered absolutely defeated. he had been utterly shame today not only had he basically confessed his feelings to his friend about his newfound girlfriend he beat the shit out of him just for him to get his wounds licked by you.

He walked away towards the direction of his room & closed the door quite aggressively, he hadn’t even recognized himself. He he isn’t the type of person to slam doors whenever he’s upset or try to fight people whenever they have a difference.

but that was just the effect you had on him.  you were able to make him go absolutely insane basically put him under your spell like a wizard. even though you were currently resting in trance, arms, kissing on him, loving on, and touching on him, and fucking on him.

He was determined to make sure that you’d be his at the end of the day. Ever since the day you both met he was sure that you’d be his one day even if he had to get rid roadblocks like Trent, he’d gladly do so. 

← prev [neymarsluv!] next →

[soars22]

Whatever happens next (which at this point could be anything) I hope we get closure.

I hope we find out what was meant to happen to the eggs.

I hope we get some sort of goodbye, however that looks, beyond just a post to twitter.

I hope the cc’s can share the plans for their characters, even if they’re only headcanons.

I hope that we get to have an end.

I put an entire year of my life into this server. I was there with Phil from day 1 and 95% of his qsmp streams after. I found Bad, Foolish, Roier, Fit, Pac, Mike, Bagi, Cellbit, Pierre, Baghera, and Etoiles not too long after. I fell in love with these characters-I loved their interactions, their energy, their storylines, everything. The stories they told made my days better. I have genuinely never put so much time into caring about something like this before, and I loved the experience and the community.

And above it all, I fucking loved the eggs.

I didn’t know all of them; some of them were gone before Phil ever interacted with them. To Bobby, Trump, Tilín, and Juanaflippa, you were loved and you will always be missed.

To the others, there are no words in any language I can think of to describe what it will be like not to have them any more; I cannot do them justice. Maybe later, when I’m not exhausted and sobbing and heartbroken by the absolute shit time we’ve all had these last few weeks, I’ll make a post to remember them. For now, all I can do is name them because I don’t have the energy to do anything else.

Chayanne. Tallulah. Ramon. Chunsik. Leo. Sunny. Empanada. Pepito. Richarlyson. Dapper. Pomme.

You were the best part of this server. You were the only reason it survived as long as it did. You deserved better than abuse and silence. You deserved communication from someone who was supposed to care. You deserved a better ending than to go to sleep forever.

You deserved better.

And you will never, ever be forgotten.

[serendipnpipity]

Another wild dip n pip dream for the books...

I read an article and initially I thought it said Phil got himself and another driver into an accident and was apologizing, but then I re-read it and realized it actually said “Greg Whatever-His-Last-Name-Is Apologizes for Reckless Driving That Almost Cost Ex, Phil Lester, His Life”

So now I’m intrigued. And a little worried. I know for a fact dnp are fine because they posted a video that day after the timestamp of the article, and it was completely normal.

I scan the details of the first few paragraphs that say it happened in the evening around the Northern town of Williw, where Greg and Phil grew up apparently. They allegedly dated in college (that’s the scandalous connection of it all) but they haven’t spoken in years and are on not bad, but not great terms.

There’s an audio interview segment below, so I click to hear what Greg himself has to say about realizing it was Phil:

“And I’m having a bad day, just had to fire somebody and all I want to do is go home, so I see this guy driving slow in the middle lane of the road and I just lose it, I go swerving left, right, revving around ‘im. I expect him to go all Mad Max on me, speed up, something, but he just slows down, drives straight in the middle of his lane. So that’s when I take a look at the driver. He’s this young guy, around my age, short-trimmed beard. He looks vaguely familiar, so I go to look at the girl in the passenger seat and… well. It’s not a girl, is it. And you wouldn’t think something could be so simple yet so distinctive but I— I don’t know.”

So yeah. He recognized Phil immediately once he saw Dan, but that realization they were still together was so shocking, he lost control of the car.

And then there was a little written interview from Phil about his side of the story. Apparently, he and Dan were on their way to a fancy dinner with his parents. Phil had just gotten his driver’s license again and was being The Most Careful Driver Ever. Then, this guy full-on swerved into them on the highway. Suffice to say, both their cars were not in great shape after that and all three had to go to the hospital, but everyone recovered with no complications.

plus the Greg lore I told Misty about this morning:

Greg and Phil broke up right before Phil and Dan got together, and the plan was to initially stay friends. HOWEVER, Greg saw how perfect dnp were together and it make him sick-to-his-stomach jealous so he friend-ghosted Phil. And all these years, he told himself that dnp's honeymoon phase wouldn’t last, and that helped him forget and get over it. Now, Greg is stuck in his somewhat-sucky office job and single and just needs some friends, so crashing into dnp was a good reality check and they became acquainted again afterwards

[queercatwithhat]

should i do dnp 2024 predictions or is that just silly now?

ah, fuck it

MY DAN AND PHIL 2024 PREDICTIONS ^__^

they change the name of their joint channel, maybe to "dan and phil"

phil gets a tattoo!

dan introduces a new concept for his main channel

they start a podcast and it's got the unhinged stereo energy

a cute selfie just randomly captioned "date night" gets posted cause they just don't gaf anymore

dab and evan get a child and this child has the yet strangest name, not the obvious "devan"

catboy phil somehow

daniel howell will wear a black, longer skirt and look beautiful

they go undercover as stan accounts and we all lose our shit

some sort of accident during a gaming video

amazingdan reactions

dan does not shut up about phil's ass

cornelia posts another tweet about them that's calling them best gay uncles or something like that

they start playing a long, emotional storygame like life is strange or detroit become human and one of them cries

they upload a video on valentines day and whatever it is, it's so corny that no one knows wether or not they're just fucking with us

they do another mukbang and this time dan talks a bit about the we're all doomed recording just like last time when they we're chatting about the interactive introverts dvd

also small addition; this mukbang isn't pizza again, instead i'm feeling indian, like yes shove that samosa in my mouth plz

seth everman comeback just for phil

phil announces a big, creative solo project (go phil go!!!!)

they announce a tour for 2025

full phouse tour never happens but they do show us some areas of it and we all realize they're not just rich, they're rich rich

think that's it for now =P

[ameliawarnerr]

POV: MC is drunk at Aurora and she texts Jake.

Part - 2

Find part 1 here!

—MC—

I tip-toe down the stairs, my hand grazing the wall as I silently pray not to wake anybody. And by anybody, I mean, Lilly Donfort, Hannah Donfort and Jake Donfort. I am the only one who isn't Donfort so I figured I should get the hell out of here before any of them wakes up. Explaining my presence here is not going to be easy.

I'm clearly in the clothes I wore last night– all wrinkled and shrunken. I have no idea where my phone, my shoes or oh wait I don't know where my entire logic has vanished.

If I ran into someone, I truly hope it to be Lilly. And she could even tell me why I am at her place. Perhaps she found me and then rescued me here. Obviously, it cannot be Hannah. She doesn't even come out of the house that often. If I am unfortunate enough to run into her this morning, I have no clue what I am supposed to say. What if she thinks I slept with her half brother?!

Did I?

However, if I'm as ill-fated as Shakespeare’s tragic characters, I’d definitely come across Jake.

Although it cannot be Jake who got me here. He never goes to Aurora and if Phil was to call anyone to help me, the list would start with Jessy and end with Thomas. Jake wouldn't make it to that list for obvious reasons.

I successfully lay my feet on the ground floor. It's five in the morning. No one would be awake. I sprint straight to the door, paying little attention to my surroundings. I'd have my phone collected later. I'm currently in the red zone of potential awkward situations, followed by guilt and longing. All things I hate.

My hand wraps around the cold knob of the door. I turn it around but it's locked. “Son of a…”

“Where do you think you are leaving?” A distant voice makes a trail of obscene words escape my mouth. Whoever is writing my story is clearly inspired by Shakespeare.

I clear my throat, removing my hand from the knob. I don't turn away as I say, “I don't know how I got here but I need to be back at home. I have an important thing to do.”

“Make a mindmap of all the things that happened last night? I can help.” His voice is a little distracted, taunting and infuriating.

I scoff, turning away to look at him. He’s behind the kitchen island which I had conveniently ignored on the little run from the stairs to the door. He's cooking something. If he really wants to play the indirect, between the lines tormenting game, I think he doesn't know my argumentative and bitch side because I had a soft spot for him as soon as I knew him.

“If you are really feeling helpful, Donfort, then, why don't you tell me what I am doing here?” I fold my hands on my chest. Addressing the opponent with the last name is sort of a declaration.

He doesn't look at me as he sprinkles salt and black pepper onto whatever he's cooking in that pan. My eyes descend to his hands as he works before I jerk them away. “Oh, I stalked you and then I found out that you were drunk and vulnerable so I kidnapped you.” He deadpans.

I scoff again. Jake doesn't beat around the bush. If he's doing this, he wants to make a point.

“I can't imagine why you'd do that.” I crease my brows, pretending to be genuinely confused. I walk towards him. As I lay my palms on the island, I see the slight shake of his hand and his posture becoming rigid. I don't know if it's my closeness or that I indirectly pointed at our history because as much as we both try to ignore it, one of us would mention it. And I can't be the one being caught off-guard.

“Kidnappers often have motivations and planning for months but sometimes, they are driven by reasons that might be beyond the victim’s understanding.” He states, his hands moving swiftly again as he lowers the flame of the stove. There's a mug filled with coffee. I eye it.

Jake looks up then follows my gaze as I look away. He grabs the mug and offers it to me. I take it without saying thank you.

“What’s your point?” I cut to the chase. I'm used to him being percipient and having thoughts a normal human being can't fathom, but I could understand his points. I can, still. But it's five in the morning.

“My point, Stephens, is that the motivation for abduction doesn't matter if you are the victim.” He uses my last name.

“It mattered when Hannah was kidnapped.” I rebuke.

He sighs, putting the stove off and really looking at me for the first time. I might be tackling the guilt of shutting him out internally but the longing is coming out on the surface. “Again, it mattered to us. Not to Hannah. All she could have thought about was finding a way out or regretting being careless in the first place.”

I know what this is about now. No matter the status of our relationship, I don't think he can ever hold back from lecturing me about my own safety. I shove down the softness that his care brings in me and think about how much I hate being called weak. “So this is about my getting drunk in a bar owned by a friend.”

He gives me a look.

“What? It's not like I was totally alone. Phil was there and he's a friend. I'm allowed to get wasted in the company of a friend. And he owns the bar. There's no way he'd let anyone hurt me on his property.”

If I hate being called weak– directly or indirectly– he hates when I trust Phil.

“The same Phil Hawkins who got arrested and had to plead for help to a stranger towns away? The same guy whose bar Cleo and Thomas broke into and he couldn't do anything about that, save for sulking to his sister? That guy?” There's a challenge in his voice.

I slid down to the stool. I can't defend Phil against the truth so I drink my coffee silently after saying, “Yep. Him.”

Jake shakes his head. “All I am asking you is to be a little careful. I know you are smart and can get out of situations perhaps even I wouldn't be able to.” My shoulders rise. His words can make me feel absolutely weak and then inevitable all of a sudden. “But that doesn't mean you can be careless.”

I don't look at him as I drink my coffee, staring at the wall. “I think you shouldn't care.”

He nods. “And I think it's cruel of you,” our eyes meet, “To pretend not to know why I care.”

I tear my gaze off him. “I’ve moved on. I need to pretend that you have too.”

I can feel his gaze on me, pleading silently for me to look at him. I cannot. “You haven't moved on. You're trying to move on and evidently, you are doing an awful job.” He says, his patience little by little vanishing.

I look at him, then. “What do you mean, evidently?” I query, ignoring everything else he said. He turns away and reaches out for something from the opposite kitchen counter. Turning back, he hands me my phone.

The screen shows our chat. Two recent messages marked read. Two recent messages that I sent while I was drunk and it's clear that I was drunk. God, so many spelling errors on top of no punctuation. And I thought solving a case through texts would make me a pro at texting. I threatened him to sleep with any guy? What is wrong with me?

I shrug. “I don't talk like this. This must have been–”

He cuts me off. “Phil? Save it. The drunk you have already tried it. Not to mention, she was more like you than you are now. Honest and bold. She wasn't the one who'd not have enough courage to look someone in the eye.” His voice lowers with every word.

Mortification riles me up from the chair. “Alright. Thanks for the coffee and the lecture I didn't pay for. I’ll be leaving now.” I lay the cup on the island and turn away.

“You talk a lot when you're drunk.” He says, making me halt midway. All the stupid things I could have said wander around my head. The reason I got drunk in the first place is the most plausible one. Shit shit shit—

As I slowly turn sound, I find that Jake has left the kitchen and is now heading towards the stairs, unaffected by my declaration that I'm leaving. Motherfucker knows I'd follow him.

I rush towards him as he climbs the first step. “What did I say?” I ask, firmly.

“Weren’t you leaving?” He banters while continuing to climb the stairs. I do the same, only a step behind him.

“Jake, come on, we are not five years old. Tell me what I said.” I bark.

He barely acts threatened by my acidified voice. “What part? When you were babbling not knowing I was standing two steps away or the long one in the car? To me, they were both equally enjoyable.”

oh my god. I can't trust the drunk me talking to him directly, what shit would I have spitted when I didn't know he was around?

I glance up and he's already five steps away. I rush to his side, placing a hand on his shoulder to steady him. “Jake, I swear to god, tell me right now—”

He whirls around and I'm taken by surprise– ending with one foot on the same step as his and the other one step down. My hand on his shoulder slides down to his chest. “Or else? What will you do?” He challenges, his coffee-like eyes dart from one eye to the other in a mischievous manner. He knows if he presents anything like a challenge, I'd take it.

My back is against the wall and if he takes half a step, I'd pressed between them. “Or, or,” the closeness makes me stutter. Or maybe it's the fact that he's not nervous at all. Or he's just hiding it well. I can't lose to him because of closeness. That's some excuse Thomas would pull.

“I’m listening.”

I gain my posture back, straight my spine but still need to look up to meet his eyes. “Or I’ll go to your room, sleep in that bed and come out when Lilly’s awake and before I’d even begin to explain, she’d go around telling everyone that we slept together.”

Jake has such an infuriating gaze then I can neither look at him nor look away. “Is that supposed to be a threat?”

I really need to keep my fantasies away from my threats. “No. I guess I'm still a little drunk. So please, tell me what I said?” I try softening my voice, looking at him rather than glaring.

He blinks and looks away. “I think you know what you said. That's why you are so desperate to confirm it, that you are standing on my foot.”

I peek down. I am actually standing on his foot. I pull my feet back but end up losing my balance. The hand on Jake’s chest fists his black t-shirt. His hand wraps around my waist holding me in place. I gain my balance back and my face ends up too close to his.

His body is pressed against mine though there's still some sane distance between our heads. I gulp down the urges surfacing all of a sudden. The ones I locked away for weeks. The air is thick with ache and yearning. Our collective wants.

He glances at my lips then back at my eyes. “You said that I forced you to drink because I didn't try to contact you after you rejected me. You said you can't stop thinking about me. And when I was getting you out of the car, you said you wanted to kiss me.”

“Did I?” I foolishly ask, looking at his lips.

“Yes.” He breathes out, nearing me. His grip on my waist tightens.

“And did you do it?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“Of course, not.” He answers in a beat.

“Because I was drunk.” I say the reason out loud, leaning in.

He inhales and agrees. “Because you were drunk.”

“Which I am not anymore.” I lean in, merely an inch away from his lips. I don't think either of us is looking anywhere but each other's lips. I don't know if it's yearning for each other or the fact that we have spent almost a month thinking about us, that we no longer waste any time thinking. All thoughts weigh no importance anymore. It's clear what we want.

“Say it.” He whispers, his lips grazing against mine.

I don't. I let the weeks of frustration, guilt, longing release out as our lips touch. There's no point being gentle and slow. I know he knows it and he's acting upon it. I'm pressed against the wall, as his other hand caresses the side of my neck. I fist his t-shirt in my hand again, as the other hand wanders in his hair.

His tongue skims over my lower lip as he arches my neck up. I open my mouth, letting him enjoy my submissive side for a moment. Then, I bit his lip, smiling between the kisses. I can feel his smirk. The hand on my waist slides under my top and pinches my side. I wriggle in his hold.

I pull his hair harder but that only encourages him to kiss me faster. He grabs my hand on his chest and pins it against the wall, slowly sliding it above my head.

We break through only when we hear a door opening. We are both out of breath as we stare at each other, knowing the only wall between us: my decision to move on, has been burned down.

“Get drunk more often. It's always fun listening to you complain about me.” He smiles.

I bite back a smile but I think I'm terribly failing.. “Didn’t I need to be more careful?”

“When I’m around, you can put your guard down.” He affirms.

“That’s sweet but I really need to leave now.” I partly turn and take a step down only for him to wrap his hands around my waist to stop me.

“Yeah, that's not happening.” He says, leading me up the stairs again.

Yeah, that's not happening any time soon.

—The End—

[docholligay]

I liked the folk song you exposed me to. If you feel like it, the first five that hit your mind go! I'll look them up and have a listen ^‿^

Boy I wish I could remember what folk song that was ahahah. I listen to a LOT of folk. A Favored genre. I basically listen to folk and country and then running music. Bless you for not asking for me to pick songs that are my favorites or particularly great, those almost always paralyze me for whatever reason.

HERE'S THE LAST SIX I PLAYED ON YOUTUBE THAT I THINK ARE MORE FOLK THAN COUNTRY

Billy Bragg -- Between The Wars

Iron and Wine--Passing Afternoon

Dave Carter--When I Go (Doc why are there two songs in a row about death? Mind your business, if you're not careful I'll make a whole playlist of the very best of death.)

Bright Eyes-- Land Locked Blues

Trials of Cato-- Gawain

Colter Wall--Sleeping on the Blacktop

And here's three bonus "if you know nothing about folk music here's some important foundational American Contemporary Folk music that you may have never heard" songs (In MOST of these the singers are important but the songs are just, ones I like)

Woody Guthrie-- I ain't got no home in this world-- You know this dude. He wrote "This land is your land". He's the one that has the guitar that says "This machine kills fascists" (Boy whenever people post something referring to that I want to be like, "WHOSE FUCKING GUITAR IS THAT FROM??? TELL ME WHO! TELL ME NOW!"

Pete Seeger -- What Did You Learn in School Today -- you know many many songs by this man. They have been covered by many many people. he wrote "Turn, Turn, Turn" he wrote 'Where Have All the Flowers Gone" he wrote "if I had a hammer" It is BUCKWILD to me that more people don't know who Pete Seeger is. Anyway i picked this song because both he and the below are part of my larger reeducation program that all generations have been politically aware, actually.

Phil Ochs--Draft Dodger Rag-- I fucking love Phil Ochs. He was the first one, by most reasonable evidence, to publish a protest song that named Vietnam by name. He was deeply critical of the US government. He wrote my favorite patriotic song too, though. He was a biting, funny, aggressive Jewish man who started fights even within his own circles (He directly attacks Pete Seeger, I know of at least, in one song. Bob Dylan shoved him out of a limo because Phil was dogging on his songs) and did not know when to fucking quit, and got himself into trouble. I consider his suicide to be one of the great tragedies of the music world, but also not the most surprising thing on God's green and verdant earth. I could give you just a top five Phil Ochs songs. Anyway, I picked this song because everyone picks the aggro ones, but I like also when he's funny. ANYWAY.

[jo-harrington]

Pinprick (A Gutterballs Story)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Jo!Reader

Summary: You're sitting down to listen to one of your favorite podcasts when you hear your name as one of a long line of Eddie's loves, and you have a moment of reflection.

Note: This is a very very very late post in dedication to one of my fandom loves @dr-aculaaa (who is very much on hiatus but still deserves all of the love us resident weirdos have to give) and not only one of my favorite fics Sunday Morning but the offshoot she made for Valentine's Day: Gutterballs.

IT STARTS OUT SWEET BUT ITS A LITTLE ANGSTY AT THE END. SORRY DRAC. WE SORT OF TALKED ABOUT THIS. THE TIMELINE.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

---

You're sitting on the floor.

To be completely honest, you shouldn't be on the floor. You knew that, your doctor knew that, your team knew that. In fact, they yelled at you when you got down there, legs akimbo in a way that was comfortable for you to sit in but uncomfortable for them to look at, so you could start ripping the sleeves off of this fucking jacket.

You're alone in the studio now, hours after everyone left.

It's just you, a bottle of Tums, your favorite fucking jacket, and the dulcet tones of the man who gave it to you coming from your phone.

“Welcome back to another episode of Gutterballs! My name is Eddie Munson..."

As if he had to introduce himself.

"Nerd," you scoffed fondly.

It's your Wednesday night ritual. Well, not the jacket or the floor or the tums...Gutterballs. At the least, you owed it to your former client; at the most, you owed it to your ex.

And Eddie Munson was both of those things.

Although "ex" is a relative term.

An ex wouldn't still send you a gift basket full of goodies every award season when you barely took care of yourself, the way Eddie did for you.

An ex wouldn't shoot an email with wardrobe recommendations when they hear about some charity concert or something, like you did for Eddie and Corroded Coffin.

Still telling me what to wear Jo?

He would email back almost immediately.

Doesn't seem like anyone else is. I saw you at Lolla Ed. Not cute.

Would be your response.

You don't think I'm cute anymore?

That would go unanswered though.

Until next time.

Because you were exes.

But an ex didn't keep the jacket their ex got them because it was their favorite. Exes didn't take apart said favorite jacket because it got a rip in the sleeve, and then plan to just cut two new sleeves for it. Nor did they spend the last 20-ish years mending the jacket that their ex-slash-former-client got them as an apology for a spontaneous kiss before a red carpet.

---

The CFCA awards ceremony wasn't the band's usual haunt but they had composing credits for a film score that was up for nomination. It was a big deal. Something that would take them to a new caliber of their career; not just rowdy rockstars, but well-rounded musicians.

So of course, they were running late.

Their suits all needed a bit of alteration, Eddie was chattering nervously as you hemmed his pants, Gareth drummed a beat on his leg with two of the hangers from your roll rack and Phil, the band's manager, yelling for you all to get a move on.

"Do you want them to look good or not!" You yelled right back. "I'm not having them go up for their award looking like shit Phil!"

"Yeah remember the Grammy's," Jeff pointed out. "That's why you got us a stylist in the first place."

"You'd have thought you paid them to be here or something," Phil grumbled at you from across the room.

"I do pay," you shot up at Eddie with a conspiratorial smile. "With my sanity."

This was your schtick. He let you dress him in whatever dark-romantic victorian-gothic-inspired outfits your former-Catholic heart could dream up, and in return you let him be the spieling midwestern boy that he really wasn't allowed to be anywhere else. Because yeah the band was in charge here really--they were the talent, the money--but Eddie didn't like the whole pomp and circumstance of celebrity. Not anymore, according to him at least.

"The drugs are fun until they're not," he told you once. "We're just...guys from Indiana."

So you'd let them be that in the safety of your studio, shithead manager be damned.

You severed the thread with a swift bite of your teeth and wished the guys good luck with hugs before sending them on their way.

But Eddie...Eddie chose that moment to kiss you.

Well, you kissed each other.

As everyone walked out of the studio to get down to the car, you kissed each other.

And you froze.

Both of you.

Because it was a romantic, world-ending kiss. A kiss of declaration. A kiss of familiarity. The kiss you gave someone when you loved them for a long time and didn't know how to tell them.

Only...you hadn't loved each other for a long time.

Had you?

Hadn't said anything of the sort at least.

That wasn't love...was it?

He left for the awards ceremony and you absolutely spiraled questioning it all. You thought about all the long walks down State Street discussing ideas for this event and that one. The way he got you a membership to the Art Institute so you could sit in front of Salome and Hercules for hours and be inspired. The nights that he just couldn't work on lyrics anymore, so he would come over to sit in absolute silence save for the droning sound of your sewing machine.

The aches of the world were just a little bit easier when you could be near each other, whether it was being inspired or talking shit or sinking further into oblivion.

Was that love?

Eddie must have spiraled too. Because he showed up at your studio past midnight, disheveled and with a green Marshall Field's bag in his hand. A bag containing, you'd find out later, a black wool and leather coat that sat in a window that you'd noted looked nice months ago. One he made the guys make a special stop for before the award ceremony so he could get you to make up for fucking up your professional relationship.

The apologies were stuck on the tips of your tongues though.

And there was a beat before some silent decision was made.

And your lips came back together again, solidifying that decision, even though the words weren't said.

---

“Today on Gutterballs,” Mrs. H’s announces on the phone, breaking you from your reflection, “our lovely listeners at home are in for a real treat. As we record and discuss topics such as first loves, lost loves, and, as you can see, from our current location -body modifications."

“First we have… A spool and thread for Jo."

"She used to poke my ankles like a voodoo doll when she hemmed my pants. I still have the scars, if you wanna check ‘em out. I think that was her way of saying I love you."

Yeah that was the way it was with the two of you.

All the ways you said I love you without the words being said.

And they would never be said.

But that was another story.

"Yeah," you agree with Mrs. H belatedly, seam ripper making quick work of a line of stitches. "Lost love sounds better than ex."

[as-everlasting-as-the-sun]

hello! my name is [ Em ] and i finally decided to make a dnp blog.

my main is @miles--to--go!!

i was in the phandom from december 2016 through most of 2017, but unfortunately stopped watching for a long time until the dapg revival last october (which i very much regret now), because i got overwhelmed by the hyperfixation and it was getting a bit much. i still kept up with dan and phil via social media, and i never really stopped missing them. i started watching again when dapg came back, and it truly felt like coming home after so long without them. i missed them and the phandom very much so im back, hopefully for good!!✌️

im also going to the terrible influence tour in phoenix on october 13th (and meeting @undead-queer, hi laika!!! <3) which is my first time going to a tour, and im super excited/nervous!! i will be occasionally posting spoilers tagged #titspoilers.

anytime anyone wants to yell about dnp—or anything—with me please do!! feel free to reach out about whatever you want! i want to make friends on here. <3

\\ my sorta blog-thesis tags + my face under the read more //

yes I’m wearing a whiskers shirt from phandomgives👍

[nomsfaultau]

(Potentially) Daily ask №3

Technoblade and the Blood god edition!

I saw you mention an incident in which somebody got a -1 hand while playing a game of rock, paper scissors with him. How the heck did that happen? How do you piss a guy of in the game of rock, paper, scissors so badly that your arm gets disintegrated?

What college degree did he get? And how the heck? I mean college is already hard enough, how did he manage to get in without documents and while being a vessel for the Blood god?

What are the criteria of someone being an orphan? Like, I assume they'd have to have 0 parents. What if they live with their grandparents? What if they don't know that their parents are dead? Does found family work? What if the parents are in a coma? Just out of the picture? If a surrogate parent was involved do they count too? Adoption? Complicated definitions of being an orphan, dude.

So he just.. got spontaneously summoned by Tommy one day.. and was just fine with it?? I mean I assume that was before the foundation. So Techno could just be sitting in class and then go tear some dudes apart and then have to drive back to class? Unless they lived in the same city which would be more convenient.

How does he feel about being Tommy's tool, basically? Sure, everyone including Tommy care about him, but he is a self-defence tool for Tommy, isn't he? Doesn't it sting a little? Considering C! Techno's whole "I am a person" theme and monologue on dsmp, I assume there's something there, isn't there?

Does he have any opinions about being surrounded by 2 completely different gods? The Blood god and Phil. Because sure, Phil cares about him but he's still a god. And I assume he doesn't have the highest opinion on the Blood God (fear/disgust/spite, perhaps?), does that reflect on his opinion of Phil in any way? Phil does also go on bloody rampages, doesn't he? To protect the ones he cares about, sure, but so does the Blood god. Sounds like a great glass (angst) opportunity.

Uh-oh, I might've set complete chaos onto the foundation the last time around. So uh, I do despise it in this universe but also not having amnestics at all would indeed set the world on fire, I think. So, I have an idea. Amnestic brownies. There's just a room full of an infinite amount of amnestic brownies now. And the foundation is thoroughly convinced that they always used amnestic brownies. Oh also amnestic brownies don't work on the main crew. Just because.

Yes, I absolutely agree with the Blade demanding that he gets more cookies because of his size. So uh, a yellow truck just casually rides up to wherever they are camping. The truck is full of all different kinds of cookies. Here ya go. They also won't ever get moldy. Whatever flavour you want, it's there. Magic. Oh also the truck is invisible to everyone else besides the main crew so nope no risk of being discovered.

Boom the foundation mysteriously forgets about the main crew's existence amd all records of them dissapear. So they're not searched for. Under their respective scp numbers are now:

Phil - a chest that works like an infinite bag from dnd. But it only works on people. You throw people there and then you can call out their name and they return. Unchanged and with no memories of what happened there. (Haha get it, collected)

Wilbur - a shadow bunny. It's a bunny. Made out of shadow. Just a normal bunny. Likes carrots.

Tommy - an anime episode where the scenes play in a different order every time. Also there's occasionally a giant "fuck off" watermark on.

Blade - an axe but all blood that comes out of the wound made by that axe is censored, like in a children's game. The textures are randomly changed to one of definitely not blood.

Ranboo - as previously stated, amnestic brownies

Cheesus Crust, this is more me causing complete chaos in the fault world than an ask. I'm sorry? I can go back to a more ask and a shorter format if you prefer that

Get as silly with this as you want! I'm having a swell time with hypotheticals. Though it might be easier to send only a few questions at a time and save the rest for later, since tumblr formating is a pain. Answers below.

The Blade never. loses. It's impossible. The universe contorts itself to ensure this no matter the odds. Mind, this doesn't necessarily mean he wins. So theoretically if someone were to nuke him from the other side of the planet, The Blade would die but also an accident would occur (wire short circuits, random truck, etc) that would kill the person who slapped the nuke button. The Blood God answers anything that hurts or challenges his vessel, often against The Blade's will, so it's less that The Blade was mad enough to tear off someone's limb and more so that The Blood God chose to do so to guarantee victory in a game of chance. Is there a different way The Blood God could have won? Definitely. His strategy is unmatched, and he can almost sense an opponents move before they do it, giving him insane reflexes. However. He likes blood. So no arms for that poor D-class.

English major, folklore and mythology minor. He didn't go in person to college (aside from graduation, which was a very chaotic affair but he'd thought it'd be funny). Used a laptop and never once turned on his zoom camera since he gave a different excuse for it every time. He paid for it via online gambling since he never loses. As for ID, his college friends call him Dave so I presume he committed identity fraud at some point. Likely did something similar speedrunning K12 education since beforehand his main education source was the voices.

An orphan status is something The Blood God can sense via soul bonds, since Bonds are kinda his deal (usually of the enemy/challenger sort but still). Have to be a child. It counts things like adoption/found family, since Collection counts otherwise Wilbur would be deadzo. It relies on a person's attachments to a parental figure, so grandparents/believing their parents are alive/coma would work. In Tubbos' case, Jasmine (a member of the hive) has parents that are living, but she doesn't consider them parents because they shot Tubbo. Ergo, Jasmine is an orphan, and Tubbo is too even if other members are adults who have parents.

The first encounter between Tommy and The Blade is found in the short story What Happened in the Catalyst. The Blade had graduated by that point and was living with Wil and Phil. So luckily he lived on the same continent by that point lmao. The Blade was incredibly confused when first summoned but was being shot at and so dealt with that first, inadvertently rescuing Tommy who survived because of Red stopping The Blood God. After a very hilarious phone call where Philza thinks he's in a hostage negotiation, they sort everything out. The Blade doesn't really fit in a car and Tommy's parents don't own a horse trailer, and so I guess he stayed with the Simonses while Phil and Wil made their way to Nottingham, since they're less conspicuous. The Blade got tacos out of it, and Tommy utterly hero worshiped him, so he was more or less cool once he had a plan to reunite with his friends.

The basis of The Blade being summoned by Tommy has its roots in how Technoblade would show up when called for battle, specifically the Battle of the Lake or whatever it was. Complaining about being woken up and grumbling yet eager to help his friend. Tommy had a pattern of getting in over his head and relying on his friends to get him out, and so I made that his literal power (along side starting wars). In the DSMP it degraded into a feeling that Technoblade was just being used for his might to further Tommy's goals. However, in Fault the summoning isn't controlled by Tommy at all, so it's harder for it to resemble a pattern of being intentionally used by a friend since the guy bleeding out on the floor probably doesn't have much control in the matter. If anything, The Blade feels more like he's The Blood God's tool than Tommy's. Actually, summonings are one of the few times The Blade is slightly more willing to be overtaken by The Blood God since it's violence with a purpose (rescuing his friend) rather than just because The Blood God feels like it.

But he also DOES resent Tommy to some extent. Summoning to him is less being used as a tool and more a chain that the Foundation uses to deny his freedom, dragging him back every time he gets out. Logically he blames the Foundation for attacking his friend, and The Blade's justice tends to the straightforward murder of the people causing the problem...but that doesn't change the fact he'd be free if it weren't for Tommy. On bad days he almost views Tommy as a tool to force him into submission. But again, in the Foundation he mostly encounters Tommy when he's dying, and it feels bad to hate the kid sobbing into his lap and depending on him for salvation. And it's even harder to feel like a hero knowing his escape attempt is the reason Tommy was sacrificed in the first place.

6. The Blade has a very very poor opinion of The Blood God chiefly for the fact his bodily autonomy is violated every time he takes over. He views The Blood God as a parasite trying to invade his mind, body, and control exclusively for the purpose of senseless violence. Frankly...it's a very derogatory and one dimensional view of The Blood God, but The Blade shuts him out completely, and so proper communication there isn't going to happen until a lot of character development.

Philza on the other hand doesn't violate his bodily autonomy or take over his mind. In fact Philza was very instrumental in The Blade getting better control over The Blood God and coping techniques for his intrusive thoughts. He made The Blade feel like he had more control through their careful spars where he brushed against the boundaries where The Blood God would usually take over while still maintaining sovereignty of himself. (Which in the long run only further hurts the relationship between The Blade and Blood God but not like Phil knew that so eh). Philza actually does have a decent relationship with The Blood God, since they often fight side by side. The Blood loathes and loves him in equal measures for protecting The Blade but also making it easier for The Blade to suppress him.

But also The Blade's background taught him that violence is the best solution to most things, which unfortunately Philza probably encouraged. Because Philza uses his wrath in the service of his Collected, The Blade is more at peace using The Blood God to defend him and his friends whereas before he was alone and saw fighting more as interruptions. Probably why The Blade is more amenable to Tommy summonings tbh. Philza encourages him to be violent, but also controlled violence. Which sounds crazy since Phil is out doing massacres, but to him that's very intentional, purposeful violence.

To The Blade, Philza and The Blood God differ wildly in the why department. Philza does it out of love and makes him feel free. The Blood God does it out of love madness and makes him feel trapped. However, there will come a scene where Philza tries to seek his bloody vengeance through The Blood God, only for The Blade to refuse being used as the tool of Philza's wrath. Not that he uses The Blade to the extreme degree The Blood God does, but the comparison is rather apt.

7. Ah this takes me back to the fake pot brownie scene I wrote for Fault years back and lost...alas. Basic premise was a Real Estate walking in on them crashing in a for-sale house and then Tommy trying to convince her the courtesy brownies she brought for clients were laced with weed and she's high as a kite. So I suppose brownies that hide the existence of anomalies has precedent in Fault? Though for the most part amnestics are used on humans and Philza was an emergency case. I'd be slightly more worried about the friends, family, and allies of the crew!

8. I'm personally imagining a dump truck, which is conveniently about the size of vehicle they'd need to drive The Blade around! They're going to get to Chicago in no time with that thing. Philza is having a very hard time convincing his kids that they need a balanced diet that isn't just cookies. Wilbur realizes he doesn't have hobbies now that he doesn't have to worry about food. Tommy WILL try to claim all the cookies by marking them with Red.

9. I'm assuming this is now what the Foundation has? And bravo they're all crazy creative. Let's see how the Foundation reacts I suppose.

Phil Bag of Holding Children: I can honestly picture him being used as a MTF tool, though my Foundation doesn't tend to use anomalies. But the potential of moving an entire flank of soldiers around with ease, completely undetected, is too tempting. One guy gets the drop on an anomaly and then boom throw out their pokeball and the poor anomaly is utterly surrounded now by an MTF squad.

Wilbur Shadow bunny: honestly so adorable. I feel like Morgan (observer from small au with Doctor!Phil) would fantasize about rescuing it. Wouldn't cause they're an utter coward, but they'd be nice and bring extra carrots.

Tommy Disorientating anime: 1 it would have to say m̶̮̯̃ụ̶̤̀̕f̵̯̹̈́̇f̴̗́́į̴̲̃̈n̶͎̈́ off because of Halo. Nobody in Fault can swear. Well except The Blade but he doesn't know that yet. 2, Webb (Philza's handler) would watch in his down time trying to make sense of it because he's desperate to connect with his daughter and teenagers like anime right? He's so lost.

The Blade PG13 axe: Honestly Maureen (guard) deserves this. Classic axe lesbian.

Ranboo Amnestic brownies: I can just picture Dr. Blake (very evil doctor) slipping crumbs into people's food and then taking notes on what happens. She would offer the whole brownies, but I reckon no one would trust that since it's so out of character.

And technically I suppose Tubbo already is a box of pinned bees and assorted limbs in the Foundation.

[bubble-popping]

day 15! give it up for day 15!!! i don't think i've ever written anything more c!rivalsduo than this idk what i was on but this captures their dynamic so well. set in my blood of the covenant au on ao3 :)

The last thing Technoblade expected on his doorstep that morning was a certain server admin. He supposed it wasn't that surprising, considering how they'd worked together to destroy Manberg or L'Manberg, whatever they referred to the cursed place as these days, but that didn't exactly call for a sudden visit. How did he even know where to find him? But he could overlook the strangeness and growing concern he had because he'd truly never heard Dream sound so earnest. "Forgive me, Dream, just makin' sure I heard ya right. Ya said ya want me to heh?"

Dream visibly bristled, shoulders going up to his chin--or at least, where Techno assumed his chin was. "Don't play dumb, Techno, I know you heard me. With those-those giant ears of yours." He tried to sound intimidating. Keyword: tried. Because Techno had a pretty good hunch Dream was red as a bush of berries under that ever-smiling mask.

"Relax, man, I'm just clarifyin'." Techno raised his hands in surrender. "So, ya said ya want to learn to make a ring, right? Why would ya come to me for that?"

"Well, cuz you're good with gold, right? Ya know, part piglin and all."

Techno pushed his lips to one side. "That's a little racist, Dream, not gonna lie."

Dream sputtered, entire body jolting like the raised fur of a frightened cat. The mask became kind of pointless when he was still so expressive in his body language. "WHAT, no! That's not-it wouldn't even be racist! It'd be like, species-ist or something-that's not the point!" And Techno couldn't help but laugh because, honestly, this was the guy everyone feared? Dream just scoffed, attempting to square his posture into something more befitting his villainous reputation. "Are you gonna help me or just laugh at me?"

"I dunno, makin' fun of ya sounds real temptin'." Techno shrugged, leaning lazily against the doorway to his newly built tundra home. "What kinda ring ya lookin' to make?"

At this, Dream grew quiet, contemplative. After a minute, he replied, "The kind that'll last. The kind that... that says everything I don't know how to put into words."

And again, Techno had never heard that sort of tone from the man. Soft and reverent, as if there existed anyone on this server somehow above him.

Techno hummed as he debated this. A genuine request, and the potential significance wasn't lost to him that Dream came to him for this. "I'll help ya, Dream."

"Really?"

"On one condition." And all the happiness seemed to instantly fall out of Dream's demeanor.

"What? What is it?"

"Who's the ring for?"

"Not happening," Dream deadpanned.

"Well, then, I guess no ring for you-"

"Ugh! Okay, fine, just, just look. You CAN'T tell ANYONE. Got it? Not even-not even Phil. Like, NO ONE."

"Ya can just say it's George, Dream. Everyone knows ya love him-"

"What, NO-it's not George!"

"Sapnap?"

"No."

"Then...?"

The admin sighed. He looked around, then leaned in before whispering, "It's Punz."

Techno blinked. Once, twice, then narrowed his eyes. Finally, he asked, "Who?"

But Dream didn't respond. In fact, he was deathly still. Statue-like, absolutely nothing given away.

"No, I'm-I'm serious, Dream. I dunno who that is."

"That's not my problem." Dream crossed his arms. "Now, c'mon, you owe me a ring."

"How do I know yer not just lyin' and sayin' some random name-"

"It's not my fault you don't know, bacon! Figure it out yourself-AFTER you help me make the ring."

"Fine, fine. A deal's a deal, and I'm a man of my word."

"More like pigman of your word."

"See, that's not how ya get a ring, Dream."

[shrublee]

SPOILERS IF U HAVEN'T WATCHED THE LATEST TUBBO STREAM AS OF TODAY (Feb 21, 24) JUST SO U KNOW !!!!!! I will summarize these massive paragraphs in the points at the very end in a sort of timeline order that I can think of for this so gonna start off this rant talking about how the timeline makes absolutely no sense at all

So there was some sort of ancient thing from "long long ago" or something and they went to get the remains of it because for whatever reason that was gonna help to bring q!Tubbo back

also Creation was built by Tubbo to protect the eggs(? or atleast thats what its doing rn) (mainly Sunny I assume but could've originally started building it for Chayanne and Tallulah) after it was built it was given instructions I guess on what to do in case of certain situations such as him being gone in any way etc etc

but if Tubbo erased his memory (we'll come back to how that doesn't make sense as of now, later) of building Creation, then he must have already been given Sunny by the federation in order for him to have been able to put her as rank 1 on the list (because of course, he erased his memory of Creation, so he couldn't have gone back and changed it later)

Creation had been originally built "long long ago" (during the time of said ancient thing from earlier, some sort of order or something? we don't really know (double parentheses, crazy I know, but keep in mind that order could also potentially mean like "given an order" as in something it was told to do previously)) so was Creation originally built for something else? and then his purpose was changed to protect the eggs after that? Well then that implies Tubbo knew Creation existed during his time on Quesadilla island up until sometime after he got Sunny (I've seen some people talk about time travel theories about what I just said but im not gonna get into that cuz its a whole lot, im just saying what we know and adding a tiny bit of theories into it)

He joined an Operation at some point also? Im assuming during the long ago ancient era or whatever but like bro these are too many words to remember

So "the old order" and "the operation" are most likely 2 separate things as Creation doesn't typically use multiple names for one thing

So he made Creation before he joined the operation as a "last effort to hold on" and he did all that "very very long ago before the island looked like what it [does] today"

last effort to hold on makes me think like, as in someones dying? like Creation is his last chance if he comes close to death (which based on what we've seen makes complete sense)

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anyways enough of confusing timeline stuff for now, time to get into whats going on with Tubbo specifically

Personally I though he might've been a robot, and I still believe that to be true despite information we've been given I feel its sort of a really badly kept secret on Creations part, it keeps sort of slipping up in its wording, forgetting saying things like "he will be shut off for good" is not the typical word use for humans(?) (things that are alive ig)

Because bro like you cant just drop "he was never alive to begin with" (he said talking to Phil) and like...... do anything else with that???? If something was never alive, it was never alive, like I dunno what else Tubbo could be without never have been alive?? It could've been an exaggeration or meant to be more like "he was never alive since the day you met him" instead of never alive at all

besides that, getting back to the "he erased his memory about specifically Creation existing" point not making sense, that is also why I think hes a robot still, cause how else would bro be able to just grab a specific memory from his brain and delete it??????

PLUS THE NEEDED DATA TO BRING HIM BACK HOW, WHO, WHERE, WHAT, WHY IN THE WORLD WOULD YOU NEED DATA TO REVIVE SOMEONE WHO WASN'T A ROBOT??

even if hes not a robot bros got some like computer chip in his brain or something like........

also just gonna add in that on the original Creation stream (Niki's stream) he says something along the lines of protecting all the eggs except the one that isn't actually an egg or something Just wanna say that I think this is referring to Tubbo because yeah, he was always jokingly treated as an egg with cookies and everything and then towards the end he only had 2 lives just like them and Creation never protected him cause (A) he wasn't actually an egg and (B) Tubbo can't know he exists, so even if he wanted to protect him he couldn't either that or it was code flippa but whateverrrr :P

anyways thats the end of that for now until my brain goes crazy again

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

Tubbo made Creation before he joined "The Operation" (don't know what Creation was originally built for)

he did all that "very very long ago before the island looked like what it [does] today"

At some point he was frozen in the ice prison after this (we don't know for sure if he still has his memories of before this at this point, but most likely does for this to make sense (unless time travel maybe but we don't talk about that))

After meeting everyone and getting close with the eggs (specifically Chayanne and Tallulah) he starts changing the purpose of Creation to protect the eggs

Not long after this hes given Sunny by the Fed

He then completes Creations new purpose by putting in the ranking system (he would've had to have met Sunny before this or it doesn't make sense)

Then he deletes his memories (somehow lmao) of Creation

Creation is most likely shut down and hidden away somewhere, set to only activate if needed (dunno what these reasons he would've given Creation would be but one of them was definitely if he went missing/died or something)

[sarahs-secrets2]

Versace on the Floor (Phillip Graves x Reader) 18+࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

YALLLL the lovely @loneghostwolf made this absolutely breathtaking render for this fic and I couldn't be more obsessed!!! Please make sure you follow and check out the rest of her works!!!

This is sex, money, feelings, die I just changed the song because this one fit the vibe better (don't hate me pls), italics signify an event in the past throughout the fic

Based on Versace on the Floor by Bruno Mars

fem reader! (no use of Y/N)

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: NSFW, smut, pet names, sexual tension, (if I forgot anything pls lmk!)

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Your reflection stared back at you as you finished getting ready before heading down to meet the Commander, your newest catch. He was tall, not the tallest, taller than you though which was all that mattered. He was also very pretty, his blonde hair and blue eyes were fitting for a southern Texas boy. He had money but it wasn't flashy money, he kept it understated. Simple pleasures he indulged in, and you were one of them. 

You had met at a bar, your previous date bailing on you, which had left you sipping wine by yourself in an upscale bar you had no business being in anymore. Always the one being the knight in shining armor, Phillip Graves had approached you, saving you from the embarrassment of being stood up. Despite his appearance, he wasn't a douche, he was kind and even made you laugh, which was rare for a man to do. 

The night had led you back to his penthouse apartment in the city. He acted as if he was embarrassed for you to see his place, he was much more understated than the penthouse. Graves enjoyed his ranch back home in Texas much more compared to the penthouse he stayed in when in between deployments. Since he was rarely there, the place looked brand new, almost untouched. You weren't one for hooking up with someone you had just met but something about Phillip Graves made you think this wouldn't be the last time you would be seeing him. 

You headed downstairs, Phillip waiting for you, looking handsome as ever in his suit. He was back after a long deployment. The two of you had been together going on 10 months, Graves was taking you out for an anniversary dinner, quite the romantic he was. Prior he had sent you to pick out new outfits for the both of you. 

“Doll, don't forget this” he waved the black Amex in the air as you were slipping your shoes on to leave,

“Phil, c’mon I don't need that”, you smiled at him, he loved to spoil you and you loved to be spoiled but didn't want to come off as ungrateful.

“If you don't take it, I won't let you leave”, he looked up smirking as he tipped the card in your direction. 

“And how do you plan to do that?”, you sauntered over to him, making a point to jut your hips out a little more. As you approached him, his hands wrapped around your waist, burying his face in your neck. 

“Phillipppp-” you dragged his name out as he started to place kisses on your collarbone. Instead of using his words, he responded with a light bite on your neck, sucking slightly to make sure he left his mark. 

“Want everyone to know you’re mine, you know that? I’ll leave even more if you don't take this damn card and get us some outfits for tonight”, the Texan accent slipping out as he insisted that you let him spoil you. 

“Fine, whatever you want” you placed a quick kiss on his lips as you grabbed the card,

“Now that’s more like it darlin’”, he leaned up against the counter as you headed out the door waving bye.

You didn't plan to spend so much money but when the lady at the register said, 

“That’ll be $5,625”,

Your jaw dropped and prayed Phillip wouldn't be pissed as you slid the card through the machine. You weren't used to having this kind of money at your disposal, even after being with the CEO of the Shadow Company for so long. He had become quite accustomed to having money, he just didn't spend it, he did enjoy watching you spend it though. Anything you wanted you got, even when you mentioned something in passing. Graves' love language had become gift-giving after he met you. 

The restaurant Phillip had picked was of course the nicest one he could find, only the best for you. The two of you finally sat down in a private room he had booked for the night. 

“You are so extra, you know that?” laughing as Phillip fixed his tie,

“Hey, if I'm gonna be your sugar daddy, I gotta know when to splurge”, he chuckled as he threw you a wink

“Sugar daddy? Where’d you get that from hmm?”, Phillip Graves as a sugar daddy wasn't something you had ever seen coming, but the idea of him being yours set your senses on fire. 

“What ya like it?” his hand began rubbing up and down your leg, creeping farther up your thigh with each stroke.

“You could say that, Commander” 

“I like to spoil you, now what’s wrong with that?” his tone had changed and his eyes had gone dark with lust. 

“Absolutely nothing”, you whispered as you leaned in to close the gap between you two. Graves taking charge as his hand snuck around the nape of your neck pulling you in. Your hand cupped his face to deepen the kiss. The hand that was once on your thigh had snuck up under your dress to play with the waistband of your thong, lightly pulling it back to allow it to snap against your skin. 

“I think we should take this home, yeah?”Graves mumbled against your lips, you nodded your head vigorously in an attempt to get out of the restaurant faster. Neither of you even made it past the car. 

Phillip being Phillip, had a driver, which was extremely useful in situations like this. The both of you slipped into the back of the black SUV, luckily the car had a partition that Phillip had closed for privacy. Once the car door closed, he pulled you up onto him to straddle his lap, his hands on your waist holding you firmly in place, slowly rocking you back and forth on his hardening cock. His lips didn't leave yours the whole car ride back to the penthouse.

The two of you stumbled out of the car, Phillip attempting to fix your hair which he had ruined by running his hands through it. You both found your way up to his penthouse quickly, arriving at the door your hands anxiously wrapped around Graves’ back as he fumbled with his keys. The second the door opened you were all over him. Lips connected as you pushed him toward the couch as you fiddled with his tie, too distracted to figure out to take it off properly. 

“Hey doll, slow down, I’m not going anywhere”, you could feel him smiling into the kisses, “Let me help you. He grabbed your hand as he sat down on the couch, tugging you down to sit on his lap. He leaned back into the couch, slowly peeling off his suit jacket, giving a sultry smile the whole time. Once he had discarded the jacket he moved to his tie, hooking his fingers above the knot to loosen it. You were getting impatient as you shifted your hips on his lap, causing him to lightly buck up in response. 

“Be patient,” he whispered as he pulled the tie over his head, you nodded. His hands went to your hips to hold you in place, as you rested your hands on his chest. Noticing he was still wearing his shirt you tugged at the collar as you started to unbutton the white dress shirt. 

Phillip let out a sigh as you moved down closer to his erection as you untucked the shirt to finish undoing the last couple of buttons. 

“What’d you say about patience again?” teasing him with his own words as you could tell he was getting tenser with every movement you made. He ignored your comment as his hands began to roam your body, as they eventually landed at the zipper on your back.

“Stand up and turn around for me darlin’”, which you obliged, Graves standing up with you as well. His hands slowly crept down your back before landing at the zipper again. Before unzipping the dress, he began placing slow kisses on your back, each kiss sending a shock through your body. He mumbled something against your back as you could feel the vibrations coursing through you. Your mind too foggy to interpret what he said.

The sound of the zipper finally brings you back to reality as one of Phillip's hands guides the zipper down, and the other rested lightly on your back. Once the dress was finally unzipped he allowed it to drop to the floor. Turning you around and pulling you close to him so you could step out of the dress completely. 

“Wow”, Graves’ breathed out, he kicked the dress away, sitting back on the couch resuming the previous position as he pulled you back onto his lap. 

“That dress was expensive Phil, you can't just kick it around the floor”, you giggled, your hands rested around the back of the Commander’s neck. 

“Doesn't matter, not when I have a pretty girl sitting on my lap right here” shooting you a grin, as you playfully slapped his chest. 

“Now, what are we doin’ down here? If I recall, my bedroom is upstairs”, Phillip stood up taking you with him as he grabbed the underneath of your thighs, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist as he carried you up the stairs. 

Graves lightly tossed you on the bed, before crawling on top of you, “Now you gonna let me spoil you tonight doll?”, you nodded as it seemed the Commander's new kink had been revealed all in one night.

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I put my all into this one LOL I hope you all liked it, I lowkey went off from my original plot and got too caught up with sugar daddy Graves