Oh No Cigarettes For Me Thanks I Just Wanted To Be In This Dank Alleyway With You

to the person who wanted a continuation of soapgaz from this, here you go <3

truthfully, you weren't that mad at johnny.

yes, it hurt, but could you fully blame him? he looked like he was getting his brain fucked out of his head, having no choice but to take the cruel thrusts his lieutenant was laying on him. you swear he slurred out a few apologies before simon stuck his fingers in the poor man's open, drooling mouth, and then you couldn't process anything other than your tears and the overwhelming urge to kick simon's head in.

but just because you weren't too pissed at johnny, that didn't mean the other two members of the team were okay with it. after all, this was his punishment just as much as simon's. what good would it be if he got away with every little thing he did?

"take good care of 'im, will ya?" price hums, patting kyle's back. the latter nods obediently and mutters a hoarse yessir, already eager to get his hands on the bastard and ruin him.

—

johnny doesn't know how long they've been at it; he only remembers kyle giving him a very brief, sweet kiss before he was pushed down on the bed and his pants were being tugged off, long forgotten on the floor of kyle's room.

"garrick, fuck—" he wheezes, fighting against the urge to roll his hips up. he received a slap to his cock along with a harsh hair pull when he first tried that and had no choice but to take kyle's snarled warning to heart. fuck, he's sweating so much, globs of pre-cum and lube creating a filthy, sticky mess all over his lap and the bed as kyle works his hands over his weeping cock.

"can't keep it in your pants, eh? jus' had to let this cock o'yours think for you," kyle teases, drinking in the way it twitches and spills in his hands. "and you upset the poor bird—sweet thing was all dewy-eyed. that what you were going for, tavish?"

before johnny can deny his words, the fist that holds his cock in an iron grip begins gliding up and down, and he just about chokes at the feeling of kyle's palm sliding over his sensitive tip.

"c— cannae take it, garrick, please—"

"i asked you a question."

"nae, for fucks sake!" johnny cries, letting out a pitiful little whine when the latter squeezes tight, almost too painful for him to handle. he whimpers out a soft sorry and grits his teeth when kyle clicks his tongue, shaking his head.

"behave. should be thankful 's me and not the cap, or even ghost." kyle huffs, loosening his grip just a little. "better hope he's nice to you at training tomorrow after his lil meeting with the captain."

tears clump johnny's eyelashes together as he's denied yet another orgasm, thighs shaking and chest heaving when kyle removes his hands right before he can peak, cock twitching uncontrollably on his belly. "'m sorry, kyle, jus' wanna cum," he groans, loud and unabashed. his hands itch to grab onto the other, but he's not allowed to touch, so he settles for putting on a pathetic display of rolling his hips, poor cock bouncing against him. the movement feels good, but it's not enough, and he swears he'll get himself off if kyle denies him again.

"you solid?" kyle's sweet voice melts away the heavy feelings swirling in johnny's chest, and he nods, forcing his hips to still. "need words, mactavish."

"i'm fine." johnny musters up what he hopes is an acceptable answer, not keen on being edged any longer.

kyle hums, sliding his hand over johnny's thighs, eyes trailing down appreciatively at the mess they've made. "i could let you cum, but..." he sucks in a breath—at the same time, johnny lets out a soft groan, warm hands working his cock again. "i'm a bit offended, soap. was i not good enough last time we shagged? is that why you went after ghost?"

"yer wrong, gaz, it isnae my fault—"

"shut it," kyle snaps, squeezing a fist around the head, fluids coating his hand as johnny thrashes against the bed. "i thought i was a good lay, apparently not. or are you that much of a slag?" kyle croons condescendingly, chuckling lowly at the sounds tearing through the other's throat and the desperate shakes of his head, denying it.

his poor cock's not helping his case, though. it throbs intensely at the dirty words and drips all over kyle's pretty hands, balls aching for release.

"is that it, johnny?" he purrs lowly, sliding up next to johnny on the bed, hand still wrapped tightly around his cock. he leans down to kiss him, swallowing all the sweet little sounds spilling out johnny's mouth. his hand moves a little faster, granting the smallest amount of relief, but it's just not enough.

when they break apart, johnny grits out his denial. he knew that simon had a sweet thing at home, but he was told that she was okay with it. he's not totally at fault; it's all simon.

gaz just tuts when he attempts to explain.

(johnny does feel guilty, though; he didn't stop his lieutenant from ravaging him right in front of you or shy away from your gaze. in fact, he became even more shameless, shoving his hips back and whining out barely coherent apologies. he hopes you'll let him make it up to you properly some day. preferably between your legs.)

"nah, i think you're jus' greedy. is it cause i'm not taken? that why you said yes to ghost?" kyle huffs, cruelly twisting his fist around the head of johnny's cock. the pretty smile on his face sharpens into something mean at the broken sob he gets in return.

johnny doesn't know anything anymore; he can't even decipher left from right. all he can process is kyle lifting his hand off a second too late and the unsatisfying feeling of a ruined orgasm rolling over him in ferocious waves, not nearly enough to satiate him for even a moment.

kyle shushes his heavy sobs, whispers promises that he'll let him cum next time as he slides down the bed, and picks his sensitive cock back up. this time, kyle actually puts his mouth on him, searing hot and so soft, and johnny's seeing white.

Price x Reader. Age gap. Divorced Price. Older BF Price. Vaguely smutty. Follow-up to this.

Price realizes you’ve never had a reliable man in your life exactly the second time he discovers you looking up DIY home maintenance for very simple projects.

It missed him the first time because he was deployed. You’d mentioned offhand how you were figuring out how to rebalance a ceiling fan, and he’d just automatically assumed that you were doing it yourself because he wasn’t there, so he simply praised you for your resourcefulness and lived for the next three weeks off of the way you’d absolutely glowed at his words.

But then he gets home, and one evening on the couch he catches you googling “how to fix a leaky sink.”

“What’s that?” he asks you, tamping down on the sudden feeling of masculine inadequacy that reared up almost immediately at the discovery.

“Faucet handle’s leaking all over my counter when I turn it on,” you say, not looking up from your phone. “Landlord’s out of town and can’t fix it.”

“I’m in town, ain’t I?”

You look up at him then, brows raised. You hadn’t even considered asking him, then.

“Oh—I didn’t want to bother you, John, you only just got back, and you’re tired…”

You trail off at the droll expression on his face.

Price has learned a lot of lessons from his previous marriage. The foundational one: just because he hasn’t been asked to help doesn’t mean he is believed to be unreliable. Adding that lesson to his knowledge base about you—young, modern, independent—calculates out an obvious answer that curtails any sour mood that might have sprouted up over the issue.

He puts his hand over your phone screen and lowers it down to your lap. “I’m fixin’ the sink,” he says simply.

He enjoys the way your eyes dilate at the assertion.

The next day, he shows up at your flat wearing old work clothes and carrying his heavy toolbox in his hand.

(You don’t live together yet—something he’s keen to rectify—but he has a toothbrush in your bathroom and permanent space in your bedroom drawers. He can be content for now.)

And you—you answer the door in the filmiest of sundresses, the ribbon tie on one shoulder hanging at a loose angle.

“Heard you need some plumbing done,” he says in the gruffest of voices, already understanding the game.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re here,” you say, barely able to hide your giggle, “I’ve been so worried.”

He steps in close to you, close enough to feel the heat of your body radiating off of your bare skin. He has half a mind to put the charade aside and lift your skirt here and now, but another lesson helpfully springs to mind: anticipation of the act makes the finale all the sweeter.

“I’ll show you to the kitchen,” you murmur, looking up at him with warm, dreamy eyes.

When he gets under the sink, he finds the problem easy enough to fix—the cold water supply line simple isn’t screwed in tight enough, and when he wiggles the whole contraption by the valves he finds that nothing has been tightened up to standard. A couple of years knocking the thing around had probably loosened up the locknut.

He elects to fix the whole problem in one go, while in the meantime you stand off to the side, watching him. He feels your eyes on his legs, trailing up to the hair on his belly exposed by his shirt riding up.

“Sir, I’m sorry, I should’ve said before,” you simper, “but I’m not really sure how I’m gonna pay for this.”

His cock jumps in his jeans, and he feels your gaze move to it as if it’s a physical touch.

He levers himself out a little and meets your eyes, keeping a stern expression on his face.

“I’m sure you’re gonna figure it out,” he says. Looking down at his groin and then back up at your face might be a touch unsubtle, but clear communication had been the most important lesson of all.

He slides himself back under, and pretends he doesn’t feel you approach, or lower to your knees between his spread legs. He ignores your gentle hands falling on the closure of his jeans, the pop of the button coming undone, the parting of the zipper as you pull it down.

“Of course, sir,” you say, “I’m sure I will.”

The softness of your hand meets his growing erection, caressing the head of his cock with your thumb—followed very close behind by the wet, liquid heat of your mouth.

Man there’s just something about having a heavy breakup with a member of the 141 because they won’t stop flirting with death by playing soldier and you want a family. And then them getting their ass kicked into a desk job by a permanent injury years and years down the line. And they don’t mind it. But they do mind seeing you at a stoplight one day after you’ve just picked up your kids from school. Looking milfy and beautiful with your grey hairs and smile lines, body softened a little more from childbearing.

And damnit they’d been doing such a good job not thinking about you. And now it’s just….

“…. That should be my milf….”

Hi there! Which until dawn characters do u think that are soft moaners and which ones u think are loud moaners?

Ooooo, this is a good one! 👀

Soft moaners: Sam, Ashley, Beth, Matt, Hannah

Loud moaners: Emily, Jess, Chris

Depends on the timing or the mood they are in: Mike, Josh

sending johnny voice messages while you're lying down in bed after a shitty day because he's deployed and you miss your man, except he's seeing them but not replying, which only worsens your mood.

meanwhile, he's jerking off to the soft, breathy murmurs playing from his phone. he's been so pent-up the past few days, and being away from his girls (you and your pussy) has only heightened the frustration, so he can't help it when the first thing he sees when he opens up your chat are the lengthy voice messages.

when he finally sends something back, it's a photo of him holding his shirt up between his teeth and a hand wrapped around his leaking cock, cum covering his belly, thighs, and even all the way up his chest. just the sluttiest photo you've ever seen.

sorry bonnie, couldn't help it ;) pops up under the photo, and you're just staring at your phone with an unimpressed look as more messages pour in of him asking if you could keep purring in his ear like that; maybe throw in a few instructions for him next time he wants to have a wank (which is probably soon, so get to it, love).

In my sights

riding nerdy loser simon while he talks about star wars and how anakin does bring balance to the force, but his face is all red and his words get cut off by his moans, his hands gripping onto your sides ad you bounce on him, telling him to keep talking.

(no, im not projecting, what makes you think that?)

RILEY.

making posters for my room, and why not share them with the world? ( ദ്ദി ˙ᗜ˙ ) note: I've been trying to upload the poster for a damn hour, because it exceeds tumblr's file limit, I'm gonna cry right now.

trim

MDNI

pairings: nameless male character (probably reads best as ghost) x buzzcut reader (implied afab) words: ~700 summary: he trims your hair. warnings/notes: some gender feelings but mostly comfort, got a silly transphobic anon a couple of days ago and wanted to ~write it out~ then read this heartwarming drabble by @secretsynthetic and was inspired :3

“hair’s gettin' long,” thick fingers card through your short hair, blunt nails scratching lightly at your scalp a moment later. the words are barely a murmur, but they make you shift uncomfortably.

“i know.”

“you growin’ it out?”

“do you want me to?”

you don’t know why you ask. he’s never given any indication that he cares about the length of your hair. no “wish i could run my fingers through it” comments while you’re cuddling or “miss having something to pull” during sex. in fact, he’s always been supportive of your little routines, the ways you make your life easier.

“up,” he demands, a quick swat to your thigh before he rises from the bed, leaving you to mirror him. you would do just about anything he told you to, especially on his first day back on leave. “get the chair outside, y’know the deal.”

with a small smile you slide your desk chair away from its spot in the bedroom, carefully carrying it around shelves and furniture until its strong legs plant into the grass in the backyard. the old towels are stacked in the hallway closet and you dig out the one smudged with hair dye from his last leave. you can’t remember what it was for, tinting his roots or your brows. but it smells like your favorite fabric softener and the slight musk of being locked away as you pin it around your shoulders and settle back into your chair outdoors.

he’s already waiting for you, your preferred guard – marked with a small heart in permanent marker – secure on the clippers as they hum to life. “look up,” he instructs, and as you obey you’re met with a clear, blue sky before your eyes close and you allow yourself to relax.

he starts at your hairline, sweeping back in long, straight strokes, perfected from the trims you’ve requested over the years. almost every two weeks, schedules permitting, ever since you described the hassle of getting it done at a shop. the buzzcut was a matter of convenience most days, but others a symbol of an identity hovering over the tip of your tongue. it was meant to make your life easier, and yet every time you sat in a chair and adorned one of those shiny black capes, the nosy questions and patronizing compliments would wipe any semblance of peace from your mind. the horrible disappointment that came when one hairdresser looked you in your reflected eye and said, “it'll look better with earrings.” the glances of disapproval or sympathy, questioning whether you’re sick or just odd.

what if you were neither? what if it were just hair? it’s not, unfortunately, but you wish it were.

“chin down,” he hums and you follow.

the base of your skull is always your favorite. when the sound of the large clippers die out and the smaller, almost tinny buzz of the trimmer fills your ears, your bare toes happily tap and dance over the ground. he chuckles, reminding you to settle before his cool fingertips meet the skin of your nape, holding you in place while he works on the finer details.

the area always proved difficult to trim when you were on your own, struggling to get the angles right between the reflection of two mirrors. but his movements are muscle memory, ritualistic. it can’t be more than half an inch of hair that he shears away, but you feel lighter, brighter, the sunlight warming the crown of your head.

he sniffs when he’s done, flipping the trimmer off and carefully peeling the hairy towel away from your shoulders. “shower?”

“will you come, too?”

“'course,” he scoffs, shaking the towel out over the grass as you make your way back inside, desperate to rid yourself of the thousands of tiny little hair fragments itching at your neck and chest.

you prefer the water to be too hot, but he never complains. just slides in behind you and waits his turn, lining up the products you use in their correct order. he likes lathering the scalp scrub, smiling when you hum about feeling better already. he holds you steady as you step back under the shower head, tugging him with you into the stream. your troubles wash away in the current, like water off a duck’s back, spinning down the drain to never be worried over again.

life is easier.

warnings: groping, oral (sevika recieving), bottom sevika, one slap on the ass, cum sharing?, im not proof reading anything ever

"hey, you," you mutter against sevikas neck, sliding up behind her where she finishes putting some dishes away.

"me doing your dishes wasnt enough for you?" she asks, though you can hear the small smile in her voice as she leaned back into your hold around her, enjoying the small kisses to her neck.

"i cant simply want to thank my woman?" you cant help yourself as your hands find and gently knead her tits through her wife-pleaser.

"mmh... you usually want something from me, baby."

"its hard not to."

with a final squeeze you let go, running your hands down the expanse of her strong stomach, humming with appreciation before they find her hips to pull them back against you, your own grinding against her ass.

sevikas hand reached back to cradle your neck, brushing her warm fingers against your hairline.

"you gonna let me kiss you? or are you still on a strike?" you ask her as you inch in, the warmth of her breath mingling in with yours. of course she scoffs a little.

"maybe brush your teeth sometimes," she mutters half-heartedly against your lips before pressing a lingering kiss onto them.

you stood on your toes to reach her with your tender kisses, softly licking into her mouth and swallowing up her sighs as your hands wandered over her impressive physique. unashamedly you reached down to grab her ass, her mouth opening against yours with a ragged breath as you squeezed.

"you're so beautiful," you cant help but whisper into her mouth while you reach around her to work off her belt.

"come on..." she complains quietly, though she helps detach the straps around her waist, turning her face away from you to watch your nimble hands work her pants off.

"i mean it, sevika."

you kiss down the nape of her neck, touching your lips to where her bone had began to protrude after countless nights of hanging over her work, while your hand squirmed its way into her pants to cup her pussy through damp fabric.

"handsome, then..." you re-work your wording, fondling her. sevika was so easy to rile up, be it anger or arousal, it took next to nothing to get her going and satisfied.

nudging her forward she bent over, her forearm resting on the counter, her head onto her arm again. your hand stayed nestled in her pants, wetting themselves on her, as your hips ground forward, pushing small sounds out of the woman.

her back was something to be deeply admired as her muscles worked to keep her upright and grinding back against your movements. your free hand tracing over her back, you couldnt help but groan, landing a small slap to her ass while removing your hand from between her legs.

sevika glanced over her shoulder at you, a small harmless glare situated on her face. she shook her head and looked back down onto her arm on the counter as you pulled her pants down over her hips, laughing at her reaction.

"you slap my ass all the time, dont be a kill-joy."

she only grumbles at you while you continue your fondling of her, pushing your fingers and palm into her soft flesh as you practically make out with her shoulder, licking and sucking onto her dark skin.

the wet kisses moved back to her neck as your hands moved back to her tits, pushing her shirt up to get a proper feel of her. sevika pushed herself up slightly with her hand placed firmly on the counter, moaning so softly she might just not have been at all.

"fuck, youre hot," you groan into her skin, not able to help yourself. "just want to devour you."

her head bobbed at the suggestion, you just barely glimpting her lip catching between her teeth at your handling of her, you didnt treat her like this often enough.

it didnt take long for you to crouch down behind her to sink your teeth into the thickness of her ass, delighting in her low whine at the action, at her hips pushing back against you to urge you on.

it took even less for you to bury your face into her cunt, lapping up her tangy taste. god was it good, you moaned into her wetness while she widened her stance to get you deeper, moans tumbling out through her dark lips.

licking into her, your tongue pressed flat from her thrumming clit to her weeping hole, you hummed, pressing your hands into her cheeks to pull them further apart.

you moaned into her at her taste, sevikas own sounds almost drowning out around you, her whimpers as she gripped onto what she could while you licked at her pussy just about dissipating in your desire.

"make me cum, doll, make me cum," she groaned above you, more to herself than you if you were both being honest, her hips grinding greedily into your face to earn her more pleasure.

"oh fuck-" she whimpered, biting into her arm. your own arms wrapped around thick thighs as you ate out her poor cunt as if you depended on it. you moaned too, couldnt help yourself with the heat gathering between your legs, making you shift where you kneeled behind her.

you pressed your tongue into her, fucking her with it, one of your hands moving up to thumb at her hardened clit, rubbing slow torturous circles into it. all sevika could do was twitch against your hold, to push into you, to fuck herself on your tongue. her back arched with each whine that left her, hungrily humping your face.

you couldnt help humming into her pussy, moving back down to lick at her clit, sucking it into your mouth as she tried to starve off her moans by hiding against her arm. your nose pressed so closely against her you couldnt breathe without sevika filling you.

her humping became short and unmeasured, her hand pushing against the wall to help her grind back onto you. a sweet desperate whine left her as every part of her tightened, her pussy clenching on your tongue, pussy gushing onto your face. you licked her through it, as her hips twitched and her breath came out in small gasps following whiny groans and pleas for more and yes and god right there please.

you wouldve talked, ran your mouth and told her every filthy thing on your mind, that she was a slut, greedy, helpess with your mouth on her, that no one would treat her or eat her out the way you would, but youd rather die than pull away from her perfect cunt.

some things could only be imagined, as her mouth surely hung open, her brows furrowed, and her eyes slipped closed in her headless pleasure. fuck she wanted you inside her, wanted you to stuff her full until she cried, but she knew you, and knew within the hour she would be weeping on whatever you decided would fit her that night.

even once she was done you took to peppering kisses over her, from her clit to her hole to her bush and thinghs and ass. all of it. it was obscene the way you couldnt keep your tongue and mouth off her while she caught her breath.

"so fucking good," you murmured into the fat of her ass, licking a bite you had just left on her still twitching muscle.

"so perfect, so good... fuck youre good," you kept going, unable to stop yourself from just repeating it. because truly she was so perfect and oh so good, especially against your tongue, and especially with her wanton thrusts against it.

you stood up to bend over her back, grabbing her jaw to force her lips onto your cum covered ones. it was sevikas favourite part, it had to be, when you smeared her cum onto her lips, making her taste herself on your wild tongue.

sevikas brows furrowed while you licked into her again and again, her own tongue helping to suck onto yours, easily removing her taste from you to greedily have it for herself.

"take me to bed..." she murmured against your wet lips.