#since he lost his T

[ajaxbell]

How can JC-T lose his T? 😂😂

[worstloki]

I actually think it would be so funny if Thor adapted to Midgardian clothing and such, wearing t-shirts and jeans and after Asgardians start settling on Earth that's generally what has to happen. But Loki keeps wearing his complicated leathery Asgardian clothing for the apparent sole purpose of jump-scaring any visitors to New Asgard

[buddiesmutslut]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[carnelianwings]

Since I'm not sure if I'll ever get the chance to properly touch on this in a fic because it's more character analysis than something I can properly include in dialogue/exposition without it being very awkwardly out of place and telling not showing, I figured I'd just dump it here. It's something I think about a lot whenever I write for post-Seed Destiny Athrun in a fic, because in so many ways, this is actually something of a non-magical "Ideal (Fake) Reality" situation that Durandal very nearly succeeded in pulling off, but ultimately failed at because Durandal overplayed his hand and underestimated Athrun's loyalty to his friends Kira, who was pulling triple duty opposing Athrun because Kira himself didn't agree with what Athrun was doing, protecting Cagalli, and supporting Cagalli at a time when she was powerless.

It's a trope I very much love in magical/sci-fi settings because it says a lot about the character and the lengths they'll go to get what they want (the willingness and determination to take the longer, harder path to make the dream reality vs the instant gratification option even if it's fake), and also just gives me so much to work with when I write when it comes to character motivation/dialogue/actions.

I feel like a lot of this gets missed in all the memes that he's (somewhat deservedly) suddenly a part of after Seed Freedom, because while Seed Freedom Athrun is very self-assured and confident in his course of action, he definitely took a long hard road (with more downs than ups, in my opinion) between Seed and Seed Destiny to get there.

(Rest behind the cut because there's a reason Athrun Zala is my favorite Seed character, and not just because he's got a lovely voice - thank you Ishida-san for that - and is easy on the eyes.)

When Athrun re-enlists in ZAFT and "continues" his life again as himself, he's given a choice thanks to Durandal's string-pulling: Resume the life that was planned for him by his parents and PLANT (his "destined" life, if you will), or find his way back to the life that he's chosen for himself (with Cagalli and Orb).

If he chose his "old" life, he would've had it all - the glory of being a decorated war veteran, a post as a FAITH member (resuming the role he'd previously gotten thanks to his father), a "Lacus Clyne" for his fiance, and the honor of being the pilot of the Legend (while being something of a "legend" himself). Durandal saw to it Athrun would've seamlessly resumed that life to all external appearances, even if it would've been an absolute sham behind closed doors. Athrun might be a decorated war veteran, but that came with a lot of trauma and grief - trauma from having to fight and kill at such a young age, grief at being the one to survive when those he'd called friends die around him, plus all the unresolved emotional turmoil and grief of having never been able to properly resolve things with his father and his genocidal ideals (because Patrick Zala, too, was a man who never got over his grief at losing Lenore during the Bloody Valentine Incident, and only became the way he did because of that). He might've had a highly coveted position within FAITH, but that power would ultimately be in service to Durandal (a head of state Athrun alternates between wanting to agree with and being directly at odds against). Durandal needed more capable "Yes men" ace pilots like Shinn Asuka to spread and enforce his plans, not people capable of thinking for themselves like Athrun (at least, Athrun got there after Operation Angel Down). The "Lacus Clyne", is, of course, Meer under the best cosmetic surgery money could buy, but she is nothing like Lacus Athrun knows and cares for as a friend and whose cause he had once lent his power to (and would again at the end of the Second War).

And the Legend? It might fit Athrun in name only (in the sense that he's the "legendary pilot who helped end the first Earth-PLANT War) but the entire suit (even if it had an updated OS for the DRAGOON system) doesn't even play to Athrun's core strengths as a pilot. It's almost comedic how Durandal didn't even bother tailoring the Legend to Athrun - the Saviour is more Athrun's style both as a spiritual successor to the Aegis and weapons load out, yet it's coincidental that it would end up in Athrun's hands. There's no way Durandal could've known and planned for the Saviour to go to Athrun, but Durandal arguably had that time with the Legend. In the episode where both the Destiny and Legend are revealed, Durandal made a point of telling Shinn the Destiny was fine tuned to him, but neglects to tell Athrun much about the Legend beyond the DRAGOON system and the updated OS for it (the closest Athrun arguably ever came to a DRAGOON system was flying right past Kira and Rau's duel in front of Genesis at the end of Seed).

On the flip side of that, there's the life Athrun had chosen for himself after the first Earth-PLANT War. It's not an ideal life, not by any means - the fact he's essentially a powerless civilian with no means to reach for his ultimate goal chafes him to no end, especially when there's the ever-looming threat of Cagalli getting taken away from him due to circumstances neither of them want nor are able to deal with. Cagalli can't get out of the arranged marriage, Athrun as "Alex Dino" has no claim to power and as "Athrun Zala" would only invite larger scale international problems - even if Athrun himself has no political ties to PLANT, his family name says plenty. Athrun is patient, yes, but even his patience has a limit, and seemingly losing Cagalli to someone he doesn't respect and she doesn't love (in a reversal of Athrun's situation with Lacus and Kira) pushes him to action out of desperation. And while it puts him at odds with Kira and Cagalli (including lashing out at both of them when Cagalli finally breaks down and gives in and gets coerced into going through with the arranged marriage), it does also get him to realize that he's not the same person he was before the war - he's no longer capable of living that same life he had before, where he would fight where his country tells him because that's the fastest way to end the war. The easy (destined, if you will) option is no longer an acceptable choice for him, because it's not the one that ultimately leaves him fulfilled and truly happy with the one he loves in the end.

And it's this that ultimately brings him back to Cagalli and the (Infinite) Justice, metaphorically reclaiming his sense of justice (ha ha). He's always going to be looking for a cause to serve, and a just cause by his own terms, because he's dedicated far too much of his life serving in the military to just stop doing that and he's spent too much time around Lacus to just mindlessly follow whatever the higher ups say, anymore. So this leaves the only way forward: serve under a head of state whose ideals he can agree with, with the freedom of choice to act according to his own sense of justice, and to that end, there's only one choice for him - return to Orb and Cagalli.

[10moonymhrivertam]

Also while I'm soapboxing I shipped River/Doctor until The Husbands of River Song and people like to make edits of all that to hell and back but. Isn't that so lonely? This person matched you and compelled you and knew you and died and refused to give you up. And you could still give her up, for her own sake. It isn't fixed. But the next time she calls for you it's in a language you only read at home. You didn't give her up and you won't give her up. She knows things you don't know, and you assume it pales in comparison to the thing she doesn't know. You come when she calls. She knows your home better than most who have a key. You call yourself to her and she knows things you don't know again, but whatever it is, your other friends know. And you have to bear that and trust them as your memory is tampered with, time and again. And she'll do things for you that you both know you don't want to. So when you're in need, you dare to call for her, for the first time - the only time? And she doesn't. Answer. ...She has a good reason. You learn that even if she didn't know and match and compel you, you would obligate yourself to her on the strength of her connections to your friends alone. Any remaining hope you might someday find the strength to give her up - to keep her off of that planet - evaporates, now that she's your responsibility as well as your mystery. You learn, albeit briefly, what her eyes look like young. You realize that for her, you started the catchphrase that both endears and annoys you. You find out how she knew your name. You learn another of the things she's keeping from you - the one your friends were permitted to know. You prepare. You see her in a suit again, appreciate the parallels, but somehow you forgot - she won't let you go. Everything breaks. You promise never to let her go. Everything moves on. She moves on. She investigates the things she knows you investigate. She investigates the angels. She tells you about her posting. Her introduction rings in your ears. The book is read from. The loop is closing either way - this fixation could take her away before the Library does, and what does all this look like if you lose that? You don't have to find out. You learn you never had to admit to your friends that you knew how she died. It's the only nugget of comfort you have besides telling the story. And she haunts you, not in the way she always has, but like a ghost. You try not to entertain the argument that that's what she's been the whole time. You gave her all twelve faces, even the shameful one. It was the least you could do. So you never even think to hope, when a new friend grants you a new lease on life. And she doesn't recognize you, when she sees you, which is a little upsetting, but she did always have a cheat sheet before. And then she's stalling, but earnest. Lancing a wound to a captive audience.

She thinks you don't love her back.

A lifetime wasn't enough. How will twenty-four years shadowed by impending grief convince her?

[byl4biu]

question to the fans of that saint shorty: what exactly bad did biu do to him that you have been acting like aggressive b!tches since 2022 and wishing him and his family all kind of terrible things? taught everything to this inexperienced guy who was rejected by a ton of agencies because he's ugly (his words, not mine)? was a professional in their couple and covered up shorty's relationship with may ("photographer girlfriend" if you like it better)? support each of his events even when he himself had events and didn't receive the same energy in return? defend this cursed series while being abused, gaslighted and blackmailed ("netflix said they would sue me for 10 million" that b!tch lied when he tried to settle everything quietly and peacefully)? turned down his first leading role and left both the cursed series and all the couple brands for this shorty in solo? never mentioned him after that until the stupid bubbles started pestering him with questions? still remains a professional and out of respect didn't unfollow him, although shorty did this almost a week before the leaked private chats (nobody even knows which one are true, which one are not, but you hateful b!tches keep spreading slander about him, ignoring the court decision on that lying b!tch)? so i repeat: what the f^ck did he do to him, you crazy f^cking b!tches? go kiss your saint shorty's ass and leave biu and his family alone!

[theinfinitedivides]

what do i have to do to get Joanna Newsom fans to listen to Shabaka and his recent solo debut album Perceive Its Beauty, Acknowledge Its Grace. what do i have to sell who do i have to bribe pls brethren he is right there

[wakingfromthewater]

Getting these characters together because I felt horrible about what i had done to one of them and was like "Hey, they're both single!" was the best idea I've had in a long time. I started out wondering how TF that would work and ended up absolutely falling in love with them.

[ningningkittie]

🦨💭

[seethesunny]

Tess and Joel celebrating each other’s birthdays not bc it matters but bc they never do something nice and maybe it's the perfect excuse for it.

So imagine how awful the first time Tess gifted him something went.

Imagine Jackson!Joel feeling so beaten in the latest days of August.

[oveliagirlhaditright]

So... this is an idea that I don't know if many will agree with, but I'm putting it out there, anyway.

I feel like, for obvious reasons, Buffy and Angel would always have trauma with the idea of him calling her "Buff."

(Unless, in the future, they managed to talk it out and eventually managed to heal from that, so that eventually he could. That's a great option, too.)

But nicknames are adorable. And while usually I'm opposed to someone in fanon calling a character something they didn't in canon (except in the Kingdom Heart fandom, Sora calling Kairi "Kai," but there's a tiny bit of precedent for that), what if way in the future (after a lot of character development and them having a life together, of course, and them being super comfortable with each other) he called her "Fy" for short some times? (Pronounced like the last part of Buffy's name is pronounced, of course. Or how people sometimes might call a "Fiona" "Fi" for short, for example.)

It might be cute. Especially if it's a special nickname that only he calls her, since if anyone else wants to shorten her name, they just use "Buff". I don't know.

[witch-without-gender]

We used to have a cat who would let us give him kisses right on his nose. After a year or so of us doing this, he started gently biting our noses. He may not have understood exactly what a kiss was, but he know it was our way of showing affection, and to show us how much he loved us, he tried to do so using our own love language.

cats don’t understand what it means when you give them kisses ):

[lizardsfromspace]

Alex Jones is livestreaming rn and for the first and only time in my life it's appointment viewing. He got evicted from his studio mid-stream and they had to cover for him when he popped up in his "satellite studio" (a room in his house I assume) devoid of the Infowars branding. He's talking about how "tens of millions" of people have watched his final broadcast & you can literally see he has far less than a million viewers in the bottom corner (and this is on Twitter, which inflates views of videos ever since Elon had to convince people anyway gives a shit about Tucker Carlson's livestreams). He's currently whining that they chose not to sell his site back to him at auction, so he could keep doing the crimes that are why he was selling his website.

I didn't see this personally but he's apparently read out the Onion's announcement, which is a fake article by a fake corporation, out loud several times as if it was real. Anyway it should be noted how screwed he is, bc...

...while he can livestream under his own name, they own his warehouses of dubious supplements. He has nothing to sell but t-shirts protesting that his show is going down. Since Infowars was, first and foremost, a lifestyle brand, this leaves him, scientifically speaking, "totally fucked". He doesn't have ads, that's the only way he makes money

He just promised that he will "win the information war" which. You were sued into oblivion for lying about the parents of murdered children & lost your platform so hard you don't even have a studio anymore & your brand was seized by a rival to make fun of you. I didn't think the Infowar was a real thing you could lose, but I'm not sure there's a more definitive way to lose the information war. Anyway he's now ranting about fluoride

[hellokittyish]

continuation of this.

★ thinking about choso who, despite having only recently lost his virginity to you, easily has the highest sex drive out of any of your previous partners.

he's practically always raring to go, no matter where you are, what time it is, or who you're surrounded by — it all blends into nothing more than mere background noise, the only coherent thought left in his mind being that he needs to have you.

he doesn't know exactly what happened... but ever since his first time with you, it's like a switch he never even knew was there has flipped, leaving him physically unable of going even a few hours without feeling your sweet warmth wrapped around him.

and he'll be all desperate and whiny about it to begin with, pale cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink and clammy hands fiddling restlessly with the sleeves of his shirt as he timidly asks if the two of you can go someplace more private.

but the moment you're behind closed doors, it's just like that night all over again, with choso swiftly pinning you to the nearest wall and unforgivingly jackhammering the entire length of his cock up into you over and over again, all the while grunting incoherent words against the shell of your ear.

and if you do manage to make out any of his slurred speech, it'll usually be along the lines of "couldn't help myself, you just looked s'good today." or "i-i think you've ruined me... all i can t-think about anymore is being inside this tight, perfect little pussy. 's not fair."

it's almost like having two entirely different boyfriends; the usual shy, quiet version of him that hides behind you during conversations with strangers — and the rough, overly vocal version of him that only rears its not-so-ugly head while he's fucking you.

not that you'll ever be caught complaining. because after all, it's like having the best of both worlds.

[makismei]

in the same universe as this :,) cw: toy usage, hint of brat taming, hints of sadism & machoism, 18+ content, overstim, dubious consent, soft :(

“you’re doing it again,” he deadpans, knocking your thighs open, “keep. them. open.”

pearly slick oozes from your cunt, soiling the newly washed sheets and sticking to your inner thighs. toji sits in front of you, a blank look on his face but you know how he’s truly feeling from his eyes.

lidded and intently focused on your poor, leaky cunt, he mindlessly goes through a small box on the bed, feeling around for what feels interesting.

it’s your box of sex toys. the ones you used before you started dating the man in front of you. it’s been a while since you’ve reached for them, since it feels like toji knows your body wayyy more than you do, and also because he gets you there, he doesn’t let you escape until you’ve gone brainless from all the orgasms he’s blessed you with. why would you ever need to do the work again?

but toji isn’t all too familiar with adult toys. of course, he knows about the basics—dildos and vibrators, but when he accidentally stumbled upon this little treasure box of yours (his own words), curiosity took over him. he’s never seen pieces of silicone and plastic look so lewd, and the look on your face was so precious, he just had to try them.

“hmm,” lowly, he calls your name, “what’s this?”

heavy eyelids blink open, registering what’s in his hand before you shoot up, attempting to scurry away but your bed isn’t that big and his reflexes are out of this world—

“that’s a reaction,” he grins, eyeing the small red toy, shaped like a flower. “you used this one a lot?”

you shake your head, cheeks burning and eyes welling up with tears. crocodile tears, toji raises a brow, beckoning you to continue.

“‘s too much, it..” you trail off, breaking your gaze, but his hand guides you back, gently thumbing your cheek.

“you’re in control baby,” he whispers, “i won’t do anything you don’t want, you know that.”

of course you know, that’s why you let him do whatever the hell he wants with you. and frankly, him using that cursed little rose toy is making you more excited than you thought.

“it… made me squirt for the first time…” you squeak, speeding up with each word spoken, “i only used it a few times because the first setting was already too m—hold on, waitwaitwait—”

“this?” he drags you back, spreading your legs to make room for himself, “m’ gonna have fun with this.”

“toji,” you weep, anticipating, and he knows, a soothing hand caressing your thighs and waist, “m’ nervous.”

and toji knows he’s sick and utterly deplorable, because your reaction is turning him on. he’s excited, out of the few he’s tested already and the others yet to come, he has an inkling of a feeling that this one will be his favourite.

“s’ okay,” he coos, “what’s your word, gorgeous?”

“ginza…” the city you met him in. a little corny, but it works.

he hums, smiling. “you ready?”

you nod, shyly looking up before correcting yourself, “yes.. m’ ready.”

it doesn’t take him long at all to figure out the buttons. there’s only two after all, the power button and the other one that controls the settings.

the buzz makes you tense up, but you relax slightly under your boyfriend’s loving touch.

he spreads your lower lips with a thumb and pointer finger, whistling lowly. he lazily collects your juices, smearing it over your clit.

with bated breaths, you let out a quiet cry when the suction latches onto your swollen clit. back arching almost immediately, toji’s shocked by your reaction. he grins, amused. cute, he thinks, watching you drool and squeal.

you’re surprisingly still, muscles tense and lost hands trying to find purpose.

would it be too much if he started fingering you?

you let out a long wail, head jolting to look down at him. he’s smirking, pleased with your shocked expression.

but he’ll be nice, for now, only sliding in one finger as he eyes your reaction.

it hasn’t even been long, maybe just over two minutes, but by the telltale squeeze of your cunt on his finger he knows you’re cumming.

“already?” he laughs, crooking his finger just right, “no way.”

“i—i told yooouuuu!” you’re absolutely gone when he presses against that little spot inside of you, screeching as your body locks up. toji feels his finger being pushed out, a stream of liquid following, splashing lewdly from your cunt.

and god, just at the sight of you, the sounds you’re making—he’s about to lose it. but he grits his teeth, using a free hand to quickly hold himself off.

he takes the toy away, turning it off, but still stimulating you with his thumb. your body starts quivering from all the pleasure and it’s been a while since he’s seen you cum like that; he worries for a moment that he pushed you too hard.

but he lets you ride it out, quiet sobs of pleasure filling the room. your head is turned to the side, shaking hands covering your face. he praises you softly, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to the inner side of your knee.

when he sees you’ve calmed down, he gently moves your hands away, pressing a kiss to your tear soaked cheeks, both sides, before kissing you deeply. you moan, throwing your arms over his shoulders.

when he pulls away, he cradles your face in his hands. “how was that?”

it feels like a fire ignites beneath your skin, his stare rapt and focused only on you.

your eyes shift away, meek and ashamed, “i liked it…”

“don’t get all shy with me doll,” he grouses, “i gotta know how you feel.”

your hips are still twitchy, eyes glazed over. “toji,” you whine softly, tears pooling in your eyes yet again and this time he’s actually worried. “m’ not lying… it felt so good, but i’m really embarrassed.”

“baby,” he coos, chastely kissing your lips, “s’ okay, s’ nothing you need to be embarrassed about.”

he turns you both over, so you’re laying on his chest. you listen to the sound of his heartbeat, steady and true. the warmth of his body is soothing, his fingers tapping up and down your spine.

“toji,” you call, meek and unsure. he hums.

“i love you,” you mutter, raising your head, “i know we don’t say it a lot, b-but—”

he smiles, all the way from his lips to his eyes. his entire face lights up, “if i knew making you cum real hard makes you a softy—ow! okay! don’t bite me!”

he’s laughing, hand brushing the hair from your face. “i love you. more than you’ll never know, doll.”

it’s resolute, he’s so unashamed that it’s annoying.

you grumble, hiding your face in his chest. your breath stutters when you feel his cock poke your leg.

“sorry,” he chuckles, “he likes you.”

“shut up,” you mumble, hand reaching back. it’s searingly hot and heavy in your hand. you can feel one of his veins pulsing under your touch.

“sweets,” he panics, “s’ okay, jus’ leave it… holy shiitttt..”

you whine, thighs quivering at the feeling of his leaky tip pressing against your slit.

“tojiii,” you drool, looking up at him, “i want it.”

he rubs a hand over his reddening face, unsure. need is taking over him, he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to hold back. “baby, can you handle it?”

you nod, “yes, yes please,” you call his name, drawn out and needy and fuck, he’d be a shit boyfriend if he doesn’t give his lady what she wants right?

[heavenbarnes]

anyways, as i was saying about older bf!simon and his willingness to please learn

pt 2 to this

“you ever heard of a nut video with sound on?”

obviously, he hasn’t- far as he’s concerned, if you haven’t told him about it then it doesn’t exist to him.

no skin off your nose, you’d spend the rest of your life teaching him about the ‘latest trends’ if it meant he kept sending those filthy fucking videos to your phone.

(your favourites on tiktok were purely filled with ideas)

he’s holed up in a remote location, killing time till he can be home and actually do something to you rather than send you a bloody video about it.

your instructions come through clear and concise, just how he likes:

“it’s what’s written on the can, si- you can pick the setup but i just want to see you cum and, most importantly, i want to hear it”

you’re lucky simon is such a practical guy and maybe you could thank price one day for making him so good at following orders.

when he’s got his alone time he’s setting his phone up to record on the edge of the window sill, moonlight fighting through the curtain to illuminate him.

he’s lost the bulkiest of his gear, down to his tactical trousers and a compression t-shirt. the images in his tattoo sleeve almost move when the light catches them right.

balaclava on (the one that just shows his eyes above the painted image of a skull) and he’s standing up to undo his belt (that you think looks like an airplane seatbelt).

you can hear his boots against the floorboard as he steps back to give you the full view of him undoing his trousers, taking his sweet time because he knows it drives you fucking batty.

he’s so big that the phone is working overtime to get all of him in the frame but you see exactly what you need to- thick thighs at your eye line and massive hands drawing down his fly.

on (you assume) the other side of the globe, you’re at home in your shared bed and you’re propped up right in the middle with the smell of simon engulfing you as you watch the video play out before you.

(if you’d thought about it you should’ve cast it to the bedroom tv, hoping the neighbours didn’t mind)

simon sits back down with his legs spread wide, one hand gripping his thigh as the other rubs himself over his boxers. his eye contact with the camera was fucking intense, like you’d hoped, just like when he’s on top of you.

he’s dressed in all black and the moonlight is obscured but you can still see him firming up in his pants. his eyes flutter, an infinitesimal amount but you’ve been tuned into his every move since you met him.

your thumb leans hard on the volume up button and you can hear the diegetic sound of the building expanding and that usual technical hum that comes with a video. but at this pitch, you could hear him.

his breathing was chopped, chest expanding visibly as he pulled his cock out into clear view. jeeeeesus christ, it was never something you just got used to.

long, reasonably straight, fucking thick. even his hand struggled to make it look smaller as he wrapped around it, giving one dry tug.

as he closed his palm over the tip, you saw him make a swipe before he brought his hand back down considerably smoother than before. you’d had your hands down his pants enough times, man leaked like a fucking faucet.

simon’s head tipped back as he started to pull himself off, balaclava raising just enough to expose some of his throat. if you were there you would be perched in his lap, letting him do the work but running your tongue under the lip of the fabric.

one of the best things about the videos simon sent was, he didn’t really understand how sexy he was. he didn’t think any of the videos particularly watchable so he’d just send them on first take. if you liked them, you liked them- yours was the only opinion that mattered.

what that meant was, you never got b-roll. everything he sent you was unbridled perfection. captured exactly as it happens with no faffing about.

always whatever you’ve asked for, whenever you ask.

(simon’s nothing if not inexplicably obedient)

he brings his hand under his chin to spit into the wide span of his palm, wrapping back around his cock and tugging. his foreskin moved over the head, rolling back down and thick veins bulging under his grasp.

you’d almost forgotten the conditions of your request, totally fucking enamoured by the sight in front of you when it caught you off guard.

a guttural moan ripped out of simon’s chest as he twisted his wrist.

his free hand moved to cup his balls, big and heavy, he rolled them in his palm as another groan sounded out of him. what you wouldn’t give to be knelt between his thighs with the whole lot in your mouth.

you knew how much of an ask this was, you really had to work him up to making noise when it was just you two in bed. these days? you couldn’t shut the man up when he was balls deep and his face was buried in the crook of your neck.

but this was another step, this was him on his own with his crew just through the walls. he’d be a plain liar if he said there wasn’t that rumbling trepidation in his chest. he’d put it to bed though.

all he had to think of was you, one hand gripping your phone and the other between your thighs as you watched him through with a hazy smile- that kept him going.

with the thought still heavy on his mind, you didn’t have to strain to hear your name drift off his lips. his hips bucked into his hand as he did, speeding up the motion of his strokes.

you were going to black out, his tattoos flexing and his chest expanding with every stuttered breath. simon looked like a god among men and he fucking sounded like one too.

“fuck, sweetheart- you’re so fucking filthy giving me orders like this”

your cheeks were burning, he wasn’t wrong but you weren’t expecting him to call you out quite like this.

“what does that make me? always so fucking eager to do what you say? make a dirty old man, yeah?”

wheeeeeew that’ll do it, your thighs snapped together around your hand as your eyes nearly rolled back in your head. whenever you thought you couldn’t take any more, he was always there to do you one better.

“only for you, pet- you can always get whatever you fucking want from me”

and you knew he was serious, that’s what made it all the more debilitating. simon was unshakeable, you’d seen him go out of his way to defy orders if he didn’t think the person worth his time.

when it came to you? you could tell him to kill and he would.

(he probably had)

simon’s hips were twitching, back arching in a way he’d rather die than have anyone else know about. his mouth was hanging open beneath the balaclava, your name and a string of expletives falling off his tongue.

so quick you nearly missed it, the hand that was cradling his balls moved to grip the fabric of his shirt and push it up his toned front. you couldn’t call his abs cut and defined, there was aged layer to them, but they were undeniably there.

you’d rested your head on them, pressed your palms against them, even ridden them enough times to know they were there. regardless, he looked fucking perfect under the moon glow as he stroked himself hard and long.

eyes locked onto the camera, broken moans on his lips, you saw his hips lift one last time as thick spurts of cum began to paint his stomach and chest.

scars illuminated under the night sky, mirrored by shiny patches of hot cum splattered across the same stretch of skin. the hairs on his chest were matted with sweat and were now being splashed with how far he was shooting.

you could only watch with your mouth hung open as he tugged himself through his orgasm. soon it was only the sound of his laboured breathing, chest rising and falling as he tucked his soft cock back into his pants.

just when you thought that was it, you found one of his hands lifting up the edge of his balaclava till his lips were exposed. two fingers of his other hand swiped up some of his spend before he lay them on his tongue.

knuckles in your mouth, biting down to suppress a scream, simon readjusted his clothes as he stood and took a heavy step towards the camera.

one hand braced on the window sill, the other gently gripping himself through his trousers- his voice was so fucking gravely it could’ve reverberated round your room.

“what’s next sweet’art? you name it, it’s yours”