#domestic sunday

[vintagewildlife]

Wild mustangs By: Unknown photographer From: The New Book of Knowledge Annual 1979

[brewed-pangolin]

Drabble request for Super Soap Sunday:

Soap and you find yourselves in an unusual place/set of circumstances when the mood strikes. How does he A) let you know what he wants and B) how does he get you in the mood too?

Domestic Bliss

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x Fem Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI: Explicit smut, some fingering, P in V, backseat sex, slightly Dom-ish Soap, tons of dirty banter, Soap being a needy little horn dog

This 'drabble' turned into a one-shot because I can't control myself.

Synopsis: You and Soap take the next step in your relationship, and his not so subtle attempt to rile you up in public ends with an impromptu session in the parking lot.

Reference for where this man takes you to Poundtown here

Word count: 2k

"Alright, ma'am. If I can just you to sign here, here, and here. Then we should be all set up." Your advisor instructed as you sifted through yet another mountain of paperwork. Your eyes growing numb and your fingers beginning to ache from the repeated minor motion of signing your life away.

You pushed the last pile of paperwork over the advisors desk with gentle smile curling into your lips. Glancing over at the man sitting next to you with that same smile, a loving fondness in your eyes as you both took the next pivotal step in your relationship.

A mortgage.

Soap's demeanor was calm. Stoic even. Letting you take the lead in this circumstance as you were the one going to habitate the home more often than he would. A thought you both pushed aside for now to savor the wave of domestic bliss that came along after you signed the final piece of paperwork.

Yet his cool facade couldn't hide the cerulean maelstrom swirling within the whites of his eyes. A look you knew all too well, and one that never failed to send a quick shiver down your spine.

But here? At the bank?

Your smile quickly curled into a smirk, rolling your eyes at him as you turned your attention back to the advisor across the desk. You couldn't feed into Soap's growing needy desires. Not in public at least.

Pursing your lips with a heavy sigh, you tried to maintain your composure by focusing on the task at hand. Eyes trained to the quick movements of fingers across the keyboard as your consultant effortlessly entered your information into the database.

However, even the light clicking of keys couldn't keep your attention as you caught the sudden tremor of his knee in the lower periphery of your vision. The frantic cadence of his boot heel hitting the floor tearing at your concentration yet again, forcing you the bring the knuckles of your right hand up to your mouth to hide the apparent grin quickly forming on your lips.

With as subtle movement as possible, you placed your left hand on the top of his knee to quell his growing feverish motion. Gripping your fingers into the fabric of his jeans and pushing towards the floor in a physical attempt to ease his obviously heightening arousal.

“Ookay. That’s done. Let me get this all printed out and you two should be all set.” 

“Thank you, sir. Appreciate all your help with this.”

You share a quick glance with your advisor as he stands, his eyes momentarily shifting to Soap with a subtle curl in the corner of his mouth. You keep a close eye on him as he exits the office, finally turning to face Soap with a furrowed brow and address the apparent tension erupting between you two.

“Jesus Christ, Johnny. Would you please calm down?” You scolded playfully. Your lips a thin line of a smile, obscuring your clenched teeth as you dug your fingers further into his jeans.

“How much fuckin’ longer is this gonna take, bonnie? ‘Cause I'm 'bout to bend ya over this goddamn desk if he don't speed this shit up. He can bloody watch for all I care.” 

"We're almost done, Johnny. He just needs to give us the paperwork, and then we can go. So just, keep it in your pants for another five fuckin' minutes."

Your tone of reprimand barely able to combat the deep, rumbling brogue in his voice. Shifting slightly in your seat to quell the growing ache pulsing within your core. A gesture that most certainly did not go unnoticed as you took in the hungry blaze radiating within his eyes.

"Johnny. Don't. No!" Your frivolous attempt to stop him was broken down immediately as he thrusted his hand between your legs. Pressing his knuckles into the base of your heat through your jeans. Shifting to bring his chair closer and caress his mouth and tease you with his whispering brogue to the nape of your neck.

"Gonna fuckin' wreck ya, bonnie. Forget th'mortgage. This my down payment fer tha sweet pussy a'yers."

"Goddamit, MacTavish. Not here, ya fuckin' horn dog."

"Horn dog?" He questions with that distinctly mischievous grin. Pulling away as he eyed your advisor walking back into the office. His calmness in complete contrast to the excited flush bellowing from your chest as you quickly swat his hand away, scolding him quietly under your breath.

"Overconfident bastard."

"Alright. You two are all set up. You should be getting a call within the next five business days once you qualify. Other than that, welcome to home ownership."

"Thank you." You shook your advisor's hand, grabbed at your paperwork, and made an immediate bee line for the door. Beating Soap at his own game as you left him in the office with an obvious growing hard on. Already midway to the exit of the bank when you eyed him barreling out of the office in your periphery.

You didn't want to lose focus again. Not now. Now when you had the upper hand. You Kept your eyes locked onto the 4Runner at the back of the parking lot as your feet moved quickly at their own accord. Your ears perking to the sound of its alarm, a wave of triumph rolling over you as the locks sprung free.

You opened the backseat passenger door to toss your purse and paperwork on the seat. Expecting to see Soap at the driver side as you tried to close the door.

Tried.

You glanced questioningly at the door. Only then did you notice Soap's hand gripping on the edge. Spinning on your heels as you came face to face with a fiery blaze and a hungry look in his eyes.

"John?"

"Get in."

"John?!"

"GET IN!"

You felt his hands on your hips the moment his voice registered within your mind. Thrusting you into the back seat, an excitedly victorious giggle escaping your chest as he crawled in before slamming the door behind him.

"Yer such a fuckin' lit'le minx, y'know that? Leavin' me th're wit a full bloody stonner." He growled, pulling your shoes off and tossing them to the side, frantically moving to the front of your jeans as you continued to laugh in triumph at his feverish need.

"Makin' me do the goddamn walk o' shame and...why are these fuckin' buttons so goddamn small?!"

"Ooohhh, what happened to that cool confidence, Soap? Thought you could handle yourself under pressure. Bein' a demolitions expert an' all."

"Yer pushin' it, lass." He spat back. Relinquishing the fight with the buttons in favor of simply tearing your jeans off.

"M'also not tryin'a fuck tha bombs, smartass."

Soap tossed your garments to the back, flaring his nostrils with a darkened veil in his eyes as he spread your legs to take in the sight of your silken arousal. Moving onto his haunches with a deep inhale, his eyes rolling back as he took in the scent of your growing excitement.

“Mhmm. Could smell tha’ sweet pussy in th’re. An’ ya already so fuckin’ wet fer me, aren’t ya, bonnie?”

Words escaped you as he pushed two of his fingers inside your soaking heat, your eyes fluttering closed as he slowly pumped up to his knuckle, teasingly preparing you for what was to come. Unable to restrain your body’s reaction as your walls reflexively clenched around him.

“Donnae think I didn’t feel tha’. I know what ya need, lass. An’ m’gonna give it to ya.” Soap lured to you with a husky purr, your eyes fluttering open in response to take in the sight of him stroking himself through his jeans. His steely blue gaze boring into your soul as he effortlessly worked at the buckle of his belt. A throaty growl reverberating within him as he teasingly pushed the waist of his jeans below his hips to expose his painfully hardened cock.

"Johnny, I-" Your pleasured whimper was cut short as he throw his muscular frame on top of you, sealing his mouth over yours in a wet and desperately needy kiss. His strong hands gripping into the flesh of your thighs, guiding them around his waist as he teasingly pushed his throbbing erection into your moistened cunt. Filling you to the brim in one fluid thrust.

"Th's s'my home, bonnie. Right 'ere. B'tween yer legs an' deep in th's beautiful fuckin' pussy a 'yers."

Soap didn't give you time or air to respond as he encapsulated your mouth once more and immediately began pistoning himself into your core. The force of his thrusts wiping whatever thoughts and words out your mind, only focusing on the feel of him as he caged you against the backseat with his arms bent on either side of your head.

"Steamin' hell yer tight, lass." Soap growled into your lips, pressing his chest down into yours, keeping you still and allowing him full reign to pound his hardened length into your heat.

His bulbous tip kissing the flesh of your cervix with each forward thrust before pulling out almost entirely to only throw himself back into you once more. The continuous motion forcing your back to arch off the backseat, pushing your pelvis into his to stimulate the sensitive flesh of your clit.

Soap pulled his mouth away in repsonse to your shifting position, leaning forward to press his forehead into the crook of your neck. His hot breath cascading down your skin as he grunted and moaned with every subsequent thrust, his relentless pounding forcing you to grip into his shoulders to keep yourself stable beneath him.

"Johnny...Johnny..." you whispered softly against his temple. His name the only coherent word you could manage to let fall from your lips as your mind and body fell into the depths of his desperate and needy pleasure.

"Jus'...lemme 'ave th's, bonnie."

"Only g'nna need...an'ther minute.."

Soap's gasping breaths washed over the flesh of your neck, his voice rumbling within his throat like an otherworldly mixture of a growling whimper.

And the moment you felt his hips begin to falter, you pushed aisde your own pleasure in favor of reaching his. Only focusing on him. His needs. His desperate compulsion to always need to fill you and mark you as his own.

"C'mon, bonnie. Come for me."

You responded to his grunting demand by simply pressing your lips to the flesh of his temple. Wrapping your arms and legs around him tightly, letting him vigorously thrust his throbbing cock into your cunt until you felt the warmth of his release erupt deep inside you.

Soap's movements then halted all together. Burying himself into your heat as he rode out the relentless pulses of his climax.

Even within this impromptu moment, with him panting against your neck and you hunched beneath him in the backseat, there was always a certain level of intimacy that seemed to meld between you in the bliss of the afterglow. Cradling him in your arms as he slumped over in a limp and gasping mess.

"Fuckin hell, bonnie." He whispered, softly panting against your neck as he lightly pursed his lips against your neck.

"Jesus, Johnny. If I knew home ownership got ya this worked up, I'd it done years ago."

"Shut it, lass."

"Can't wait to see how hard ya get when I do my taxes."

Soap remained silent to your playful banter, responding only by continuing to kiss the curve of your neck as his body trembled, slowly coming down from the high of his release.

His mouth gently curled into a smile as he placed a series of gentle kisses up the nape of your neck. Chiding in once more to your jesting, his distinctive brogue thicker and more hoarse as he purred against your flesh.

"Won't 'ave ta, hen. Unless yer 'nta doin' a threesome."

"What?" You questioned, pulling him out of your neck to meet his steely blue gaze with a coitish smile.

"Uncle Sam already fucks ya in the ass, bonnie. It's the only time I'm yer designated sloppy side piece."

You can't hide the smile that emerged over your lips, pushing a piece of sweat ridden hair out of his eyes as you lovingly gaze up at him.

"Then I guess I'll be needing another down payment in advance. Just for good measure."

And of course, Soap obliges. Thrusting his still hardened cock deep into your core as he mutters those two words you love to hear.

"Yes, ma'am."

4Runner Wingman Masterlist

@deadbranch @sofasoap @d3athtr4psworld @punishmepunisher @jynxmirage @obligatoryghoststare @mykneeshurt @glitterypirateduck @homicidal-slvt @shotmrmiller @astraluminaaa @kkaaaagt @havoc973 @writeforfandoms @luismickydees

[ravenelyx]

Sebastian is the type to get random bursts of affection.

At the beginning of your relationship, he would suppress them, he'd be more reserved, scared to be too annoying, too clingy, too inadequate, too much. But eventually, he would relax — he would feel more at ease and gradually act on them more and more.

And one of his favourite activities is snuggling.

You could be sitting on the sofa, and he'd sit down too, and guide you between his legs, wrapping his arms around you from behind, and he would nuzzle your hair, your neck, your cheeks, eyes closed in bliss, and place very lazy kisses everywhere his lips can reach. Nuzzle, kiss, nuzzle, kiss, over and over again.

Or he would gently push you to lay down, and rest his head on your chest, face hidden in the crook of your neck so he can breathe in your perfume, lips brushing slightly on your skin, and he'd hug you like you're a giant pillow, and cuddle with you until he feels like he has fallen all over again. Because what's important to Sebastian is to feel you close, no matter how, no matter what.

[kreumiya]

★・fever dream part 1

taking care of the leader of Penacony while he's sick

Well, the leader of Penacony may seem like he doesn’t have any weaknesses, however… getting sick a day before a banquet the two of you were meant to attend was definitely one. 

“Excuse me,” you said, pushing your way through the crowds of servants that had gathered outside of Sunday’s door. Maids, doctors, tourists, everyone of the sort was piling in. After all, not everyday did you hear the news that someone from The Family would get sick, even if it was just with an ordinary fever, they were quite closed off. Why do so many people have to be here? you thought, making it to the backdoor and letting yourself in, knowing that the bodyguards were already all too used to this occurrence. 

“You’re here?” 

Sunday looked up at you, smiling with a cloth half falling down his face. You walked towards his bed, noticing how intricate all the architecture seemed to be in his room. Plush velvet decorated his room in the farthest layer of the hotel. Taking a seat next to his bed, you took the cloth off his head, grabbing the basin and wringing out the water.

“You don’t have to–” he interjected, reaching for your hand. His hand was abnormally warm, especially so for someone like him, who you were so used to having hands cold to the touch.

“Well, I do have to so you can get better for the banquet,” you frowned and took the wet towel, placing it gently on his forehead. “If you don’t get better, who’s going to the banquet and hosting everyone? Surely you won’t let me, your poor assistant who’s only meant to accompany you, do it all by myself?” you let out a sigh, resting your head on his chest, hoping that you being dramatic would somehow cure all of his illnesses. He let out a small laugh and ran a hand through your hair. 

“Of course not, I’m sure I’ll get better in no-time, don’t worry much,” Sunday smiled, his wings moving slightly. “And even if you were to host a banquet by yourself, I’m sure you’d be able to anyway. But I doubt you’d be able to deal with the Nameless, I myself aren’t sure about them either.” 

You two lingered in silence for a few minutes before something crossed your mind. 

“Oh right!” 

You ran to the other bed, which was what took you to the Golden Hour dreamscape. Of course it was exactly as you remembered it, drunks and tourists of the like littered the place. And oddly enough, the bright lights of the city reminded you of how you had met Sunday – although that’s a story for another time…

Taking in the sound of the bustling city for another moment, you ran towards Sunday’s favourite shop, a cake shop that he had visited many times. Letting yourself choose the freshest cake with the great excuse that “Sunday would be eating this.” Soon you returned to the room, shoving the cake in between his hands.

“How’s it taste?” you grinned. It was his favourite food after all. 

“Not bad….”

And soon you tucked him back into bed knowing that tomorrow would be a long day with a sick leader of Penacony and a large banquet that hosted everyone from all around the universe. You just couldn’t wait to be overworked, at least it was with Sunday. 

Fever Dream Part 2

i have so many pulls for this man, probably ooc idk we've barely known him in story

[maddiedrawz]

✨supercorp🎄

think i only want you under my mistletoe💕

[weirdoough]

「let me take care of you 」

bonus: the aftermath

[lemmetreatya]

youth leader!eren who all the local community kids love — the one they always say “i wanna be like him when i grow up!” about. and he’s good with them, so good with them, because somehow he seems like he knows what doing all the time to either keep them engaged or spare them a heeding word.

yet youth leader!eren likes to spend his evenings doing anything but being inspirational. not like he was doing anything wrong, but he had a guilty pleasure who he always rushed home to indulge in each night. his anti-depressant. his high. his you.

slinging a bottle of wrays and nephews which he’s copped from the local convenience store, youth leader!erens already got the rolled spliff he’s been waiting to light all day wet between his lips. he can already hear the sensual r&b beckoning him from the kitchen, how he’s immediately in there with you as your first call of action is to slowly rub your ass against his crotch in tune to whatever’s playing.

you never last like that for long. it always end up with either eren greedily kissing, and lapping, and eating at your workday’s festered cunt or have you hollowing your cheeks around his semi hard cock. if you and youth leader!eren do get round to drinking the wrays and nephews, then it’s only after he’s finished rotting within the waning juices and drying cum of both of your toxic sex.

you end the day with the spliff finally being lit as you talk about your day to each other. whether your heads on eren’s chest or his head laid up in your lap, whether the night ends in a slow sideways fuck or a simple kiss goodnight, you and youth leader!eren enjoy how you spend time with each other — uniquely tailored.

it wasnt something he’d go out of his way to promote to the kids, but it was a life he was proud living.

[comfortzonelol]

Looking heavily domestic.

[neverevan]

Fuck It Friday ☔️

I was tagged by @daffi-990 @jamespearce9-1-1 @eddiebabygirldiaz @wikiangela and @jeeyuns thank youuu 💛

Aside from some editing, my Christmas fics are all done and now I can slowly return to my main wips, so I thought I'll post a snippet from Eddie's pov in the mudslide fic (most of that part is just too spoilery and I rarely share from it, but this bit was waiting to come out for a while now, so here 🫶).

He mostly thought about Christopher; imagined him waking up in the morning, pestering Buck for breakfast and news he couldn't give, going to school and coming home, sitting at the dining table, doing his homework… Just normal things.

He would’ve given anything to be with them right now. To walk out of his room in the morning and see Buck’s sleep-rumpled face, his curls flat on top of his head, his smile lazy and crooked and his bare feet on Eddie’s living room carpet.

To watch the tattoos shift on Buck’s naked shoulders as he stretched and to hear his hoarse voice as he mumbled out a quiet “morning” on his way to the bathroom. To smell the scent of his overnight sweat still lingering on his skin while making their coffees side by side, waiting for Christopher to finally shuffle out of his room for breakfast.

To hear the sleepy mumble stifled in his own ribs as Chris gave him his good morning hug and see the toothy grin tugging at his lips as Buck entertained him throughout breakfast, making him giggle with his silly facts and jokes.

To yell “come on, we're gonna be late” at the front door as Chris ran back inside for a book he forgot and then to yell again after Chris was back but Buck just realised he had left his phone on the kitchen counter.

To sit in the car and talk about after-school plans and listen to the radio on a low volume before dropping Chris off with a hug each and then to bundle back into the truck and head to work together, barely just having enough time to stop for one of those creamy coffee monstrosities Buck liked so much — that somehow Eddie learned to like too, only if to indulge in the fantasy of what Buck’s lips would taste like on his own.

✨no pressure tagging: @malewifediaz @spagheddiediaz @hippolotamus @disasterbuckdiaz @nmcggg @thewolvesof1998 @watchyourbuck @theotherbuckley @fortheloveofbuddie @ladydorian05 @rainbow-nerdss

[the-gray-ghosty]

It's totally canon that Sam buys fidget toys for Jack (because he read about them in a parenting book), but he ends up playing with them himself when he's stressed or overstimulated

[skoulsons]

sooo sunday we get ellie staying as close to joel as humanly possible because he’s her comfort. because he does and will protect her with every cell in his body. because she’s been scared to death dealing with davids men, but now she’s safe with her home and her comfort and protection and her father and so she stays as close to him as she possibly can. sleeping right beside him, clinging to his side, just overall being in close proximity around their fire that night because it’s him and she needs him and she finally has him back

[vintagewildlife]

Hornet the rocking horse By: Eadward Muybridge 1885

[splickedylit]

Domestic Diplomacy III proceeds apace

(==>Jade: hear the holy and hilarious word)

Gamzee is in the next room over, sitting on a big squishy-looking pillow in a kind of cross-legged sprawl that makes it really clear how his legs don’t bend in the same ways human legs do.  You’re delighted to realize, for the first time, that troll feet are padded like their palms.  You hadn’t thought about it—the chitin claws cover almost the whole toe the same way they cover pretty much the whole finger, and they don’t seem to spread a whole lot, so it’s easy for your brain to read them as hoof-like and move on.  But there’s little beans down there!

Alien contact really is just the gift that keeps on giving.  What a good day already.

Karkat is occupied bustling and hustling around greeting people like the bossiest little mother hen—(And take off those, the fucking foot-clothes, my hive is clean, don’t you put shit and dirt on the ground!  Put them here, by the, tss, the, damn…in-and-out place!)—so you stroll over into the other room and lower yourself onto the floor to watch whatever it is Gamzee’s looking at.

You kind of thought maybe he’d started movie night early, but he doesn’t seem to be watching a movie.  He has something that looks a lot like a normal human tablet propped up on a table, and he’s watching what looks like a live feed of a huge room full of other trolls, with a guy at the front talking.

“<—(A sentence subject you must have missed) is the funniest (implied:warning-shot-level danger) motherfucking make-mess the (something)s could do to make want,>” says the troll at the front of the crowd, succinctly proving to you that Gamzee is not the only troll who seems to think more verbs is better and sentence order is a pointless invention.  The guy talking doesn’t sound exactly the same, but he stretches his hums and chirrs and growls out and piles his clicks together in a really similar way.  “<We’re all (body parts?) up in the air, down up our (whole/entire) motherfucking horns in dirt.  (Some kind of noun with the food-descriptor ‘sweet’ in it) on our (body part again?  It sounds like a compound word of ‘face’, sort of) and that isn’t a motherfucking mistake.  It’s no motherfucking mistake, brothers!”

Gamzee says some kind of emphatic imperative verb—in a polite, subordinate inflection, which is pretty unusual for him.  On the screen, a few other people do the same thing, mostly saying words you don’t know—one of them you hear says “<Say it, motherfucker!>” and another one says “<Yes, brother, yes!>” with the heaviest subordinate inflection you’ve ever heard.  Somebody else honks a bike horn.

[whimsical-roasting]

jamie 'i'm too much' 'i'm not enough' 'can we pretend like i'm not both those things at once?? can you see me as something smaller - something more palatable' 'i don't know how to be anything smaller than i am - i can't help how i taste but i promise i'll keep you fed for an eternity' 'i'm a greedy thing really, don't mean to be but it is who i am' 'i'm the best thing at this party but i wouldn't marry me either' 'i can ask for what i what, i always have. but i can't look you in the eyes if i'm asking you to love me' tartt

bonus: roy 'you're a lot of things - a pain in the ass maybe but i could never consider what i do as tolerating you' 'loving you feels as easy as breathing even if i'm shit at expressing it' kent

[kreumiya]

★・ doing sunday’s hair (and failing) then him doing yours!!! gn!reader, mentions of long hair though!!

(probably OOC, written before penacony!!)

Half asleep and in the comfort of the leader of Penacony’s office, you watched as he scribbled away at a piece of paper. It was half past ten and you were helping him with it, after all, it was your job as his assistant.

“Sunday,” you said, your voice breaking the silence between you two. “Can I do your hair?” It was a spur of the moment decision, you were bored out of your mind, staring at the mounds of paperwork that were meant to run Penacony. You both had finished around three-quarters of the assigned stack and you certainly thought you both deserved a break.

“Hm?” he replied, the corners of his mouth curling into a soft smile. “Sure, I don’t see why not.” You moved to stand behind him. His figure was illuminated by the lantern sitting on the table.

Taking a lock of his hair, and a ribbon from yours, you began to braid his grayish blue hair in a plait, however it was quite a bad one due to his hair not being the longest. You topped it off with your white ribbon, tying it in a bow.

“I think it looks great,” you exclaimed, although it was a horrible lie. His plait was loose in many spots and the ribbon seemed to be falling off ever so slightly.

Sunday touched the plait, which, unsurprisingly, fell apart in his hands. “Ah,” he sighed, “my hair isn’t the best for tying in plaits.” He looked down at the ribbon in his hands and got up from his chair. “How about I do your hair?” he offered. Putting a hand on your shoulder he sat you down in the chair, his chair.

He gently lifted a lock of your long hair and separated it into three parts. Plaiting them skillfully into a braid — topped off with your ribbon, well more like the ribbon he gave you.

“Much better,” he mumbled softly, holding your braided hair in between his two fingers and playing with it. Oh how much you’d give for this moment to last forever, alas, a knock came from the door.

“Excuse me sir, I’m here to collect the paperwork.”

And soon you both returned to writing in the half darkness.

domestic sunday fluff yippee

[gelatosushix]

Trying out some new brushes and stuff… and wasn’t in the mood for a fully shaded piece, so fast gradients it is ^^