#but they can also pleasure

[forsaire]

Good with your hands (Soap x Ghost)

Soap injuries his knee on a mission. Ghost shows him a new technique that might make it feel better.

Excerpt of Chapter 10 of Don't Let Me Go on ao3

(wordcount: 1286)

The 141 returned back to their Austrian homebase in the early morning, their bodies exhausted and physically wracked with tension. As soon their helicopters landed, Price immediately pulled Valeria aside to speak with her privately in order to get a gage on whether or not she could be trusted.

It also temporarily avoided a Valeria/Alejandro blow up that definitely would not be helpful at the moment.

After the men took some time to clean themselves up, Ghost knew he wasn’t going to be able to get to sleep again for some time. The intrigue of the situation gnawed at the back of his mind, demanding answers or resolution.

Ghost didn’t know how long this interview – or interrogation – with Price was going to last, so he decided to walk around the base. His feet kept moving on their own until he came upon a relatively secluded spot outside for him to sit down on. As he rested his back against the brick of the building, he took a moment to enjoy he warm breeze that lightly shook the leaves in the trees and watched the sun slowly start to rise.

He should have expected to be alone for only ten minutes.

“Ah, there you are Ghost,” Soap’s voice rang out from the side.

“You’re always finding me…” Ghost mumbled, keeping his eyes locked on the sunrise in the distance. He wasn’t really annoyed at Soap but spoke in a more observational sense.

“Trust me, Ghost. If you didn’t want to want to be found, I have no doubt in my mind that you wouldn’t be found,” Soap said with light humour. As Soap walked over, Ghost glanced at him just in time to catch his last few steps. Ghost instantly noticed an uneven hop to his step.

“You’re limping,” Ghost stated.

“Aye,” Soap said favouring one of his knees to crouch down with a quiet grunt. He sat against the wall next to Ghost and extended his legs out in front of him, a plastic water bottle in one of his hands. “Just got back from the nurses’ station. They gave me something for the pain. I asked for only the good stuff,” he beamed.

Ghost tried to recall when this injury happened. When it could have happened. He hadn’t noticed any limp while on the mission so it must have occurred after. Then again, maybe it was there during the assault but he was too oblivious to see. Regardless, Ghost should have known.

“When did this happen?” Ghost asked, an air of confusion to his voice.

“When I dropped down from the line,” Soap answered plainly as he rubbed small circles into the side of his right knee.

“Why wasn’t I aware of this?”

Ghost began questioning whether he had missed observing other crucial details while on the mission. It wasn’t like him to miss something so large.

“Because I purposefully hid it,” Soap said matter-of-factly. Soap caught Ghost’s eye and seemed to pick up on his internal doubt. “It’s reasonable to not know something if I don’t tell you.”

“I should be aware of everything that’s happening to the soldiers in my charge.”

“It’s human not to…” Soap sighed and looked out toward the sunrise. “Which is still something that you are,” he finished quietly, almost to himself.

Ghost didn’t respond. Those words were far from what he would use to describe himself. To a certain extent, he thought everyone who did this job had to leave that part of themselves at the door.

“And anyway,” Soap said with a lighter tone to his voice again, “it’s not that the landing was especially bad. My knee was just tweaked from an old injury that occasionally acts up every now and then. Seems like it never healed right.” He was still absentmindedly rubbing small circles into the side of his knee using the tips of his fingers.

“Have you tried the knuckle technique?” Ghost asked before he could stop himself.

“The what?” Soap asked, looking at him with a furrowed brow.

Knowing his words wouldn’t be able to explain it well enough, Ghost reached over and gently felt around Soap’s knee for the bones and tendons. Soap watched him carefully, but otherwise didn’t protest. Having located the edge of Soap’s kneecap under his pants, Ghost balled his hands up into a semi-closed fist.

He pressed his knuckles between the second and third joints of his fingers deeply into the tendon just below the patella, keeping a firm pressure as he slowly dragged them upwards around the curve of the kneecap.

Soap involuntarily lurched forward and sucked in a quick breath. A second later, he melted into the touch as he rested his head back up against the brick wall, a blissful expression on his face.

Ghost repeated the motion a few more times.

“Oh, fuck…” Soap breathed out, arching his back slightly. The words tumbled out of his mouth, sounding desperate and half-close to a moan.

Upon hearing this, Ghost flicked his eyes up to glance up Soap. Soap was looking at him through half-lidded eyes which were filled with absolute trust and pleasure. There was also something else in his eyes that Ghost was having trouble pinpointing exactly.

Ghost couldn’t remember the last time someone had looked at him like that. Coupled with Soap’s choked out cry still ringing in his ears, Ghost started to notice an unexpected feeling growing in the pit of his stomach.

Quickly, Ghost removed his hands and sat back, trying to calm his racing heart. Soap let out a content exhale and gingerly bent his leg a few times. He shook his head and softly chuckled under his breath.

“Of course. First the Rubik’s cube, then the cranes, now this.” Soap looked at him pointedly, the warmth of his eyes making Ghost hesitantly glance over. “You’re really good with your hands, Lt.”

Ghost turned his head away from Soap’s intense stare. He awkwardly scratched at his leg and tried to bring back the moisture in his mouth which had suddenly gone dry. He had a primal urge to drink something all of a sudden.

Seemingly also thirsty, Ghost watched out of the corner or his eye as Soap unscrewed the cap on his water. A gentle touch to Ghost’s knee caught his full attention. He looked down to see the plastic cap of the bottle had been placed on his leg. He squinted at it and looked up at Soap in silent judgment.

“I don’t want to put it on the dirty ground,” Soap explained casually, taking a swig from the bottle.

“You have another hand,” Ghost said dryly.

“Don’t berate me, I’m injured.”

“Barely.”

Soap held out the water bottle for Ghost to have some which he accepted greedily. Ghost turned his head to the other side and pulled his mask up over his mouth. He put his lips up to the drink and felt the cool water seep into his mouth, giving him immediate relief. He swallowed, feeling the incessant urge for water slowly begin to creep away.

Ghost handed the bottle back and Soap picked up the cap to screw it shut. The two of them settled into comfortable silence watching the sunrise together. Ghost was comfortable with not always filling the silence with noise, but with Soap it felt even easier. This was surprising considering how much Soap liked to talk.

After a few minutes, Soap let out a yawn just as his phone chimed in his pocket. He pulled it out and scanned the message.

“Price is done with Valeria. He’s calling us in.”

“Do you think she can be trusted?” Ghost asked. Soap blinked a few times in thought. “I guess we’ll find out.”

Read on ao3.

[lesbianshepard]

This comparison has been living in my brain for months:

A humorous Roman tombstone from the 1st-2nd century CE:

Translated, the text reads:

Calidius Eroticus made this for himself and Fannia Voluptas while still alive. – Innkeeper! Let’s work out the bill! – You’ve had a sextarius of wine, and bread for one as. Stew, two asses. – Okay. – The girl, eight asses. – That’s okay too. – Hay for the mule, two asses. – The damn mule will bankrupt me!

And a tweet from 2013

[littleulvar]

✨lovebirbs✨

(Arne belongs to @ronkoza )

[ghostlyheart]

How I (roughly) imagine this scale:

1- I see myself as a faster reader than the average person. I can breeze through a text quickly and still understand almost all of it

2- I read at a "normal" speed. I need to pace myself but can consistently read and comprehend a text in a reasonable time frame

3- I see myself as a slower reader than other people. It takes me a long time to get through a text and if I try to go too fast I won't understand it

Obviously this can vary by your mood, the type of text, etc. and this is a very imprecise scale with some overlap, I'm just casually curious!!

[comradekatara]

modern au katara reads books “for fun” that are “engaging” and “enjoyable” and sokka (big finnegan’s wake head) is like “weak. i only read books that exacerbate my suicidal tendencies”

[extra-somethin-somethin]

If nothing else Koenma is a Kuwabara stan and I'm right there with him o7 (I need to write the kuwameshi fic that goes with this fr)

[muwitch]

[sorrowfulrosebud]

Imagine being werewolf Katsuki’s mate during his heat rut but still having to go to work. Of course you love your mate and want to help him in this vulnerable state, but you also need to buy him stuff, especially if his rut comes out of nowhere.

For 4-7 days every 4 months, Katsuki can’t keep his hands off you; whimpering and growling possessively every time you have to leave his den, licking your neck and of course trying to sink into every wet hole you have. It makes it difficult to bring him his favourite snacks and drinks, and god forbid if you forget his Yakult yoghurts.

So, when god is absent and he runs out of his favourite foods, you have to take… other measures to keep his horniness satiated.

“Sukiiiii, I’m homeeeee!” You call into your home. Your tote bag was spilling at the seams with your mate’s snacks, your wallet crying at his expensive taste. You take your shoes and coat off before meandering upstairs to your shared bedroom.

You toss Katsuki a look as he whimpered at your entry. Currently, your precious pup was hog tied, thick leather cuffs around each limb. His red leather collar was chained to the headboard, though it did look worse for wear due to his struggling.

His teeth bit into the gag in his mouth, drool and slobber around his chin. Desperate whines left his lips, eyes surely rolling to the back of his head under the silken blindfold.

A fuck machine was plowing into his ass like no tomorrow, the small hearts from the flogger you teased him with still pink against his porcelain cheeks. The medium dildo was abusing his prostate as his moans grew louder and louder. A large cum spot soaked the sheets beneath him as the duvet stroked against his already exhausted cock.

Katsuki’s ears twitched as he turned to the door, saddened but desperate whimpers as he tried shaking the blindfold off. You strolled into the room slowly, enhancing your sounds so he understands what’s happening. The bed groaned under the weight of your added body, the hum of the fuck machine a steady rhythm.

“Aww, is my puppy done for now, hmm? Shall we take a break?” You teased, rubbing your fingers on the sensitive patch of skin above his tail. Katsuki sobbed and nodded desperately. Your hand flattened as you stroked his back lovingly.

“But you look so sweet like this, baby! Does this cock feel better than mine? Maybe I should leave you here for the entire week, hmm? I bet you would love that, wouldn’t you my puppyslut?” You murmur into his fluffy ear, kissing the soft down gently.

Katsuki shook his head hurriedly, unintelligible sobs drowned by his broken and muffled moans. The cuffs shuffled loudly as he fought to break free, the headboard starting to crack.

“Okay, pretty pup, I won’t. But you look so cute like this. My handsome mate, can you give me just one more? Then we can take a break,” you ask him softly, stroking his sweaty back. His tail sprung to life as his fingers flexed, desperate to hold you in some way.

You turned off the machine, causing Katsuki to whine at the lack of friction. With a single tap, he turned to his side, allowing you to snuggle up to him. He instantly took refuge in your neck, taking deep breaths to inhale your comforting scent. You unbuckled his gag, allowing him to stretch his aching jaw. Your hands rubbed over the flushed skin in silent apology, before skimming over his flushed abs and reaching his reddening cock.

“Hgnnn, just fuck my cock,” he whined noisily as you shushed him. You eventually found a steady pace and jerked him off, hissing as your mate bit into your neck in pure ecstasy. Carmine eyes were expanded into galaxies of black, too blissed out to care. His body burned with lust, and you were his only saviour.

“Fuck, fuck, shit! Oh fuck, I’m gonna-” he couldn’t finish his sentence as his cum absolutely ruined your jeans, rope after hot rope draining his balls as he chased his high. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, pants consuming his entire chest.

1 day down, a few more to go.

[bewitching-666]

Omg yes please 🥺🥺

[solarpunkani]

Psst, hey.

Hey you.

Come closer.

Listen to what I'm about to say good and well, alright?

[front-facing-pokemon]

[stealingpotatoes]

Because Cal is part of tl(4)j, people he knows would visit. Which means Hera, Han, and Greez would argue over who has the better ship.

this is a competition between a Honda civic, a 1990 Volkswagen golf, and what would happen if Ferrari made an RV. greez is winning

[olasketches]

me and like two other sukuna stans making posts about how miserable he is

[justarandomhelluvablog]

as someone with a guilty pleasure for isekai and time regression stories I am just thinking of a story where Husk dies and wakes up during the height of his Overlord days with the memories of everything that would happen and has just. From the outside perspective become a completely different person overnight and changed his ways (read: the morals he gained during his afterlife he applies to how he, uh... Overlords?). A Husk whose last soul deal is to get Angel Dust away from Valentino (and offers Angel his freedom, which Angel possibly decides not to take for the time being bc it'd be safer for him to be under contract than not, with Valentino as mad as he is), and who avoids making bets/deals with Alastor like the plague. Starts building alliances with other Overlords (maybe even including Alastor, albeit reluctantly) to steadily create a support network/team (which is also useful when going up against the Vees once they're established), and just bides his time until Charlie and Vaggie open their hotel- which, at the time of his death, he had come to love and support the cause of.

And Husk is ready to be the hotel's sponsor, immediately. Alastor gets there and finds Husk beat him to it (seeing as Husk knows about it before the interview even airs), but unlike Alastor with his ulterior motives, Husk actually wants to help.

After all, he died for the hotel, and its people, once upon a time

[lovejosephquinn]

Just a crumb that I have never seen before that has brightened my Tuesday morning immensely

[fkapommel]

Griddlehark something something Being a live nerve only comforted by the existence of another exposed nerve just a little worse than you are. Being a chipped tooth whose only place is in another chipped tooth with perfectly fitting grooves. Being a poison with an even more bitter antidote. Writhing in your existence with your only salve being that they're just a little bit worse. Finding companionship in another person's pain.