#dude only has love for one thing-and it’s sports

[nightmare-the-cat]

If Guren has learned any valuable lessons in the four years between being chosen and here, it’s definitely how to pick his battles

@kazumahashimoto you are also entirely responsible for me becoming a Lime Parfait truther, I thank you for that too lol (your reblogs make me very happy :3)

[hobisexually]

I have so many problems with karamo but the s8 finale… he sees an asian woman who has severe trauma surrounding her father due to (some) asian culture(s) not allowing people to properly talk to their parents about their emotions or issues with them because that could be seen as disrespectful, oui? so she hasn’t spoken to him after her mother died and that is hard, yes?

and this man chooses to surprise her in the car (after making her cry) with an unannounced FaceTime call with said father, which forces her to immediately talk about why she’s upset with him after three years of not speaking??????? without being prepared, without knowing what to say to a stubborn elderly asian man who never learned to deal with his emotions and fucked up because of it? REALLY?

the LEAST he could have done was tell her in advance so she could write it down for herself and so she could be prepared

sure they talked. sure they made a start. but at what cost. what violence did this wreak on her for no reason. jesus CHRIST THIS MAN ANGERS ME SO MUCH

[calico-kiwi]

someone save me helllpppppp

[sweet-as-an-angel]

so! you mentioned in the 'p0rn preferences' post that Gaz is not the one who jerks off the most in the 141, and I humbly ask you, who would that be?

I don't mean this as a request, just a little discussion, cause I feel like Soap would just be going at it at any chance possible, like a bunny. he probably doesn't care much if someone hears it, but that's just me thinking too much into it.

Who Jerks off the Most in the 141 + König

Warnings: 18+, Heavy Mentions of Masturbation, Male Masturbation, Implied Reader in Individual Headcanons, Accidental and Implied Voyeurism, Edging, Brief Mention of Injury, Men Who Moan <3, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except 'You'.

A/N: As per Anon's question (which I just had to turn into a post of its own) I present to you the list of the 141 members (and König) who jerk off from the most to least <3

Soap

I have to agree with you here, Anon - Johnny is most definitely the king of self love when it comes to the 141.

He doesn't much care where he is or who he's with; when he has to satisfy his needs, he'll do so.

Though, he'll spare whoever's with him the sight of watching him throwing his head back, trying to stifle his moans behind gritted teeth whilst the wet sound of his hand slipping up and down the length of his shaft fill the room.

Unless they want to.

For one reason or another, he's nigh-insatiable when it comes to his libido, and the fact that his stamina affords him the luxury of beating himself off until his cum is practically translucent doesn't help.

The slightest thing can set him off.

Someone brushing past him ? Hard.

Someone stroking his ego a little too enthusiastically ? Bricked up.

He sees something that's shaped to be a little too curvy or phallic ? Stiff as a pole.

He remembers something mildly suggestive you did three years ago in that restaurant ? He's going to the Horny Realm.

Yes, his teammates have complained about his incessant moaning-come-grunting-come-whimpering through all hours of the night, his voice contorting through a spectrum of desperation and Johnny always ending up spent and overstimulated by the time the sun comes up.

And then he's ready to do it all again the second night touches the horizon line, giving his teammates a knowing smile when he walks into the room sporting nothing else save for a pair of boxers and a monster that looks to be trying to tear itself free from them.

Gaz

Dude's young. Of course he's throttling that rooster on a nigh-daily basis.

The only reason he's not at it as much as Soap is because he likes to believe he still has a few threads of his self-restraint intact.

He doesn't.

Especially when it comes to you (regardless of whether you're dating yet or not).

But he doesn't need to know that.

Honestly, the only thing that separates him from Johnny's unmatched libido is the fact that it takes a little more than the slightest provocation to get Gaz going.

Albeit, that line is a thin one.

If he so much as accidentally sees something explicit for upwards of three seconds, he's hard.

The only advantage of his need for satisfaction is the speed with which he can achieve it.

He and Johnny actually timed each other once to see who could get off the fastest.

Gaz won. Though, only by a slim margin.

Needless to say, that made for a rather interesting conversation with the Captain when he walked in on two of his best soldiers sat panting on the edge of their cots, an almost-translucent spray spattered across their stomachs, eyes half-lidded and hazy.

Ghost

The third-in-line for the Throttle Throne is none other than our beloved Ghost.

Unlike Johnny and Gaz, Ghost is more likely to leave himself alone at the first sign of trouble, toughing it out until he can will his mind to less lustful pastimes.

He won't make his jacking off known to anyone, either, often doing it in the shower where the water beats down so harshly that no sound can be heard for the water's fall.

That, and he's a master at keeping his voice low, no matter the circumstances.

More often than not, Simon makes quick work of jerking off purely because it’s a means to an end. However, if it’s you he’s thinking of, he’s much more likely to take his time — to immerse himself in the fantasy of your body around his, taking him so well in one capacity or another. Fucking yourself dumb on his cock.

During these times, he’s thorough — much more likely to edge himself, to throw his head back and growl between gritted teeth, to savour the sensation coiling in his stomach, his balls growing tight.

Otherwise, he’ll stroke one out as quickly as he can, getting back to business as usual.

And to look at him, on the surface, you'd never know that he just spent the last three minutes rubbing one out in the bathroom (yes, he is also a contender for first place in the 'Who Can Jack Off The Quickest Competition', but he'll never allow Johnny or Gaz the luxury of witnessing his unprecedented skill; that's for your eyes only).

Until he corners you, breathing down your neck, scolding you for tempting him - a man whose restraint lies only in his ability to hold off from reducing you to an exponential reflection of his prior state, breathless and covered in fluids.

König

Have you seen the size of that thing ? Man should be in the olympics for being able to throw that weight around.

Similarly to Ghost, König only gets himself off when it's absolutely necessary.

Only if he doesn't have you lying around to help him, of course.

Though, he lets himself have a bit of fun with it. Especially if it's been a tough day.

He's vocal, too. Though he tries not to be.

He just can't help it. Days' - maybe even weeks' - worth of unspent adrenaline and semen is hardly any way for a soldier like König to go about his life. So, he expels it in the privacy of quite literally any isolated space he can find.

König is not an adventurous spirit by any means when it comes to self pleasure, but when needs must, he's willing to shoulder the weight of the prospect that someone on his team could walk in at any second and catch him spraying his stomach or the wall white with, let's face it, thick ropes of cum.

Hong-Jin's actually caught him doing that before now.

That's actually how the two became friends: Horangi heard König grunting in the store cupboard and, knowing how stubborn his Colonel was with letting others know when he was injured, sought him out. Wanted to offer his help.

Catching Colonel König in the act of throwing his head back whilst growling the name '(Y/N)' into the darkest corner of the room was, suffice it to say, not what Horangi had been expecting.

Price

You just know he's cool with it. And by 'cool', I mean incredibly intentional, controlled, and not ravenous in the ways our other favourite military princesses are.

Sure, Price has gotten hard on the job a few times.

Who hasn't ?

But thanks to his level head, unwavering devotion to his work, and absolute refusal to acknowledge that he did, in fact, get a little bit of a chub during a shoot-out, he's managed to gain control over every facet of his body.

Until he comes home to you, of course.

Until he's able to loom over you like an omen and run his hands down your sides, stopping at your hips and pressing kisses that become more open-mouthed the further down the side of your neck he dips.

Pressing his hips into yours. Something demands your attention.

There have been very few occasions where a cold shower wasn't a quick enough fix for him.

When the days of having you milk him are too far out of sight, he's had to suffice with his own hands before now. Had to imagine - remember - what yours felt like in his place, your lips curled up as he gripped the chair arms, breathless as he moaned into the warm tones of your shared apartment.

But don't worry ! He'll be sure to catch you up on everything you've missed while he's been away once he returns.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

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[lightseoul]

16 please 👀

Congrats btw for your 2K milestone!! 🎉 WAHOO

number 16, coming right up! thank you for playing and for the congratulations, lovely <3 i hope this one makes you laugh!

(this is lightseoul's 2k milestone event ft. bakugou katsuki! to play, view the numbered list of prompts here, then simply send an ask with your chosen number and i'll whip something up!)

16. "I WANT TO GO HOME TO MY WIFE." (0.7k)

it’s probably by the tenth sigh of the night—not that anyone’s counting—that poor kaminari finally snaps.

“seriously, dude?”

bakugou, who’s seated across from him with kirishima and sero adjacent to the both of them, only lazily raises an eyebrow in question.

at that, the electric hero pouts. “at least try to pretend you’re having fun.”

a few feet ahead of them—the men collectively chose to be seated at the back of the small dive bar despite kaminari’s protests—the stand-up comedian currently doing a set cracks another joke. an undercurrent of laughter flows across the room, but none of the four contribute to that.

“sorry, denki,” sero starts, a not-so-apologetic expression plastered on his face. “i’m with bakugou on this one.”

the slim, ebony-haired man glances at the stage, “the jokes aren’t landing for me either.”

“aww, come on, you guys!” kirishima, the ever-unfailing saint that he is, pipes up with a borderline overcompensating grin. “let’s just stay for a while longer for denki, alright?”

sero shrugs in response, but turns in his seat toward the stage anyway. bakugou, on the other hand, only grumbles before reaching for his phone in his right pocket.

thumbing his password under the table, his fingers click on the messages app, then to his number one favorite contact.

for a second, he debates whether or not to shoot you a text. you were so excited to finally get started on that anime you’ve been meaning to watch, that you almost seemed like you didn’t care that he was leaving you home for the night to hang out with the guys.

biting on his lip, he absentmindedly goes through your last exchange before finally deciding fuck it.

while typing out a well-crafted message, his eyes dart between his screen to his friends then back down again, trying to seem inconspicuous.

the last thing he needs is for the bored tape hero to tease him with that annoying ass shit-eating grin of his.

reading through it one last time, bakugou finally presses the send button.

much to his delight, it doesn’t even take you a minute to reply.

(8:43 PM) baby 🧡: heey! i’m still watching—am on episode 5 now. hbu? aren’t you busy with the boys?

the smile he wasn’t aware he’s been sporting immediately drops when he’s reminded of the predicament he’s in. peering back up at the front, he has to fight the groan that threatens to bubble from his mouth when another performer goes up.

oh, well. at least you’re texting him right now.

he quickly types out his response.

(8:45 PM) me: Busy being fucking tortured. This is the worst night ever.

“yo, bro, who got you smiling like that?”

bakugou whips to glare at the culprit, who’s now wearing the very same shit-eating grin he’s just been thinking about avoiding a few moments ago.

pocketing his phone, bakugou snarls at the man. “shut the fuck up. all that doom-scrolling is rotting your fucking brain.”

“i think you getting the reference says something about you, too, bakubro,” kirishima offers from beside him.

bakugou shoots the redhead a menacing scowl, which the unbreakable hero accepts in stride.

“are you guys even listening?” comes kaminari’s whine.

“sorry, denks,” sero replies, before turning to regard the rest of the group. “i thought we agreed to stop doing these guys’ night outs? none of us are as good at planning get-togethers as mina.”

at that slightest bit of opening, bakugou takes the opportunity and moves to stand up, grabbing his wallet and car keys before inserting them in his back pocket, surprising the three men.

before any of them can say a single word, though, bakugou tries to shrug nonchalantly, muttering his simple explanation.

“what was that?” came sero’s teasing tone.

“i want to go home to my wife, idiot,” bakugou barks before he can stop himself.

at that, kaminari finally throws his hands up in defeat.

kirishima only shrugs himself, “that clicks.”

while the menace snickers. “simp.”

[after-the-end-times]

Eddie's Never Been Chill a Day in his Life

For @steddieholidaydrabbles Prompt: Chill 🥶 Rating: G 🥶Words: 793 🥶 cw: none 🥶 Tags: Established Relationship, Corroded Coffin doesn't understand, Eddie has no chill, Eddie Munson loves Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington loves Eddie Munson

“Oh, will you chill? It's not a big deal”

“Chill? Chill?! Ha!”

Eddie strikes a dramatic pose, one hand on his hip, finger on his lips and, despite the smile spreading across his face, his eyes are wide and angry staring down his friends.

“No, I don't think I will chill! Because I tell you, my best friends, my band, my comrades in arms, that I, Eddie Munson, have finally got myself a boyfriend and you, what? Say I can do better? Tell me you don't like him?!”

Eddie throws his head back laughing.

Gareth looks at Jeff who looks at Freak. They sometimes forget how scary Eddie can be when he turns his dramatics up to 10.

Which means it’s even more creepy in the quiet after Eddie’s laughter cuts off. A car door slams on the other side of the garage door. Jeff’s mom probably getting home from work.

“Dude, we just mean he isn't really- You know.”

“What? He isn't the best thing to happen to me? He isn't the kindest, sweetest, most self sacrificing man that I’ve ever met? Because guess what guys! He is. He's all that and more. He's funny and sarcastic and goofy and so so smart!”

“Eddie, he's a jock! You've always said-”

“And I was wrong! Ok!?” He blows out a harsh breath, continuing calmer “I was wrong and I judged without knowing. So what if he likes sports? He has hobbies and interests. Isn't that a good thing? Or would you rather I be with someone boring? Someone who thinks and acts just like me? So we can just sit there and stare at each other, because we have all the same opinions about everything? 'Cause, actually, I think I like it better this way.”

“Ok, ok we get it. You like him." Gareth huffs out a laugh.

Jeff adds with a chuckle. "Guess even you couldn't resist a pretty face, huh?”

Eddie scoffs. They just don't get it.

“Of course he's breathtaking. But he's all the more beautiful because of who he is inside. Don’t you get it yet? He has a gaggle of children who he loves and would do anything for. He has a best friend who he would literally get tortured for to spare her any hurt. He's even friends with his ex and the guy she cheated on him with! He's just so kind and forgiving, and yes it’s sometimes more than I'd want him to be, but that's- He's just so- I just- I love him.” He looks at them with wide pleading eyes. “Ok, guys? I love him and he's gonna be mine for as long as I can keep him. So, you guys just need to get with it, I guess.”

Eddie runs out of steam after that and crosses his arms protectively across his chest. He's still building his strength back up and he's been gesturing wildly for his whole rant.

The door on the side of the garage opens and Steve steps inside, shivering. The tip of his nose and ears are nipped pink from the cold, his hands are red and slightly trembling; he’s clearly been out there longer than it takes to run from the car to the garage.

“Steve.” Eddie breaths out and walks over to take his hands in his. He cups them and brings them up to his mouth, warming the frozen finger tips with his breath.

Steve’s gaze, so wide and hope filled, has been locked on Eddie since he came in.

“Do you really?” He finally asks, in a low voice just for them.

Eddie flicks his eyes up to meet Steve’s. For a fraction of a second he considers asking what he’s talking about, maybe playing off the moment with a joke, but no. Steve deserves to know. And he wants Steve to know.

“Steve,” He kisses the finger tips at his lips, still so cold, but finally warming. “I love you.”

“Eddie.” Steve’s shaking, though whether it’s still from the cold or from the force of his emotions, Eddie’s not sure. Either way, he suddenly has an armful of a Steve Harrington who is laughing so joyously, like it’s the only way he can release the amount of happiness that has suddenly over taken him. He gasps in a breath. “I love you, too, Eddie. Oh my god, I love you so much.”

Eddie pulls back grinning, he needs to see him right now, needs to see the joy he’s put on Steve’s face just by loving him.

Oh, Steve is glowing.

And in that moment, Eddie knows, without a singular doubt, he’s going to spend the rest of his life making Steve glow with happiness.

And they’re going to have a beautiful life.

~Fin~

[bearforcecaptions]

The spell worked, sort of, but not how I wanted. I did have the body of my dreams – I was Garrett now, but I didn’t realize the catch was that I wouldn’t be able to control what I’m doing unless I’m totally alone. And Garrett, or, me, I guess – I’m nearly never alone! The frat house pretty much always has someone in it, and I’m super popular, too. I thought being Garrett would be fun and easy, but stuck like this, it’s torture!

I figured out the ritual from this old book I found at that occult shop downtown, thinking it would be a quick way out of my boring life and into something… well, something way more interesting. Garrett had it all, or so I thought. Girls loved him, he was in the best shape, and everyone wanted to be his friend. But nobody told me about this weird restriction, or maybe I just didn’t read that part carefully enough. I guess the idea was I’d “experience” Garrett’s life, but it’s like watching a movie, except I’m the star and I can only move on my own terms when no one else is around.

And god, my roommate, he’s actually so stupid. When I can’t control my actions, we bro out all the time, but he’s so vapid. I guess I’m not much better, but it’s actually infuriating. You’d think we could have a conversation that’s not about girls, parties, sports, or video games. But no, every time he starts talking, it’s like Garrett’s body just falls right into the rhythm of it, responding automatically. I tried fighting it at first, but it’s like this autopilot takes over, and I’m just... stuck.

I’ve been scouring the room whenever I get a chance to control things, like right now, looking for any sign or clue on how to undo this. There has to be something I missed. I rummaged through his messy closet, which is packed with clothes, gym stuff, and random junk, none of it useful. The guy keeps his stuff in total chaos, and I feel weirdly exposed, like I’m actually pawing through my own things.

Shit, no, is that the door jangling? I thought I would have a couple of hours to try and figure out how to fix this. Who the hell knows when I’ll get another chan-

Fuuck, bro. Why’s my roomie home early? Thought he went to his ‘rents for the weekend. I was just about to jerk one out too. Ah well, maybe he’ll be down for some Call of Duty or something. I could use a beer.

“Yo, dude, what’s up? You back already?” I say, grinning like an idiot as I lean against the door frame, flexing a bit without even realizing it. Dude probably thinks I’m just chillin’, but nah, I’m feelin' like a boss.

He laughs, dropping his bag by the door and shrugging. “Yeah, man, got bored at home. Figured I’d head back early. Parents were driving me nuts.”

“Oh, for sure, dude,” I nod, grabbing a can of beer from the mini-fridge by my bed. “Parents, am I right? They just don’t get it, bro.” I crack it open, chugging half of it in one go, feeling the cool rush. Damn, that’s good.

He slaps my shoulder, laughing. “Dude, I swear, it’s like every time I go back, it’s the same speech about responsibility and blah blah blah. Like, whatever, right?”

“Oh, totally, man,” I laugh, shrugging it off. “Why they gotta be like that, y’know? We’re just out here living, they don’t get it.” I toss him a beer, feeling that chill vibe kickin’ in, like nothing in the world matters but just hanging with my bro. This is what it’s all about – no worries, no drama, just cold beers and good times.

“Bro, I’m feelin’ a COD sesh,” I say, grabbing the controller off the couch. “You down?”

He grins. “Hell yeah, let’s wreck some noobs.”

We crash down on the couch, controllers in hand, beers in easy reach, and it’s like all the worries in the world just melt away. I’m trash-talkin’, throwin’ down taunts, and we’re both laughing so hard my sides hurt. I don’t even remember the last time I felt this alive.

“You’re so bad, dude,” I laugh, jabbing him in the ribs as I get another kill. “How are you still this bad?”

“Shut up, bro!” he shoves me back, laughing too, and I’m grinning like an idiot.

Fuck, life is good, I think, as I take a gulp of my beer. I got my bros, I got my beer, and I got my games. What more does a dude need? Life’s good.

[luviestarz]

jeon jungkook fic recs!

❁ romantic dreams | jeon jungkook - @kooktrash (he’s always dreamt of finding his soulmate in some romantic way, bells ringing, birds chirping, maybe even a shine of light over their head. he never imagined to find them living next door to him with absolutely no clue to the extent of the growing infatuation he has toward you until it’s a little too late. hypnotized by your entire existence he finds his dreams and delusions of love to be a little too intense for anyone to bear.)

❁ Toned, Tanned, Fit & Ready - jungkook - @thvhoe (Jungkook loves acting like the word "Pain" doesn't exist in his vocabulary.)

❁ redamancy - jjk (part II) - @lesgetittkookie (jeongguk is just a normal dude with a simple routine. wake up, go to the gym, work his job as a waiter at this posh upscale restaurant in the heart of gangnam before coming home to a night full of video games and ramen (it's delicious and cheap). that routine gets disrupted when he accidentally taps the back of an expensive sports car of one of the richest men in south korea. considering he's broke, he couldn't afford to pay for the damages so the man makes a deal with him by offering him to work at his house as one of the gardeners. jeongguk takes it but wasn't prepared to meet this beautiful young woman who's constantly lounging by the pool, you, the rich man's daughter.)

❁ guys my age | jeon jungkook - @kooktrash (a summer spent at your friend’s place wasn’t something to be anything to look forward to. her hot, young dad would seem to change that for you when you decide a game of teasing would suffice your boredom. you got more than you bargained for when you realize he’s not a fan of games.)

❁ perfect timing. - jungkook - @delugguk (one night in a city full of life; what it's supposed to be a friendly and fun dinner date, ends up with a night full of unrevealed secrets and unexpected pleasure.)

❁ ⤷ seven days — jjk - @jvngkoos (jungkook does everything to make you forgive him for seven days, will you pity him and accept his apology?)

❁ visions - jungkook (yandere) - @trivia-yandere (you’re convinced by your friends to go to a party and let go of the memories of your ex just for one night. unfortunately for you, jungkook doesn’t want to be let go.)

❁ ⤷ got her skippin’ work — jjk - @jvngkoos (trying to go to work is an everyday challenge for you with a boyfriend like jungkook, and it’s one of those mornings where he does anything and everything to keep you in bed with him)

❁ ego season masterlist | jjk - @sparklingchim (your ex-high-school crush is now your fuck buddy. you just gotta make sure that your older brother taehyung, jungkook's best friend, doesn't catch you red-handed.)

❁ Devoted to Trouble - @jeonsweetpea (In which the whole world finds out Jungkook is Spider-Man, but he doesn’t care about anything but you. OR Can you survive seven days of Jungkook pining over you while his identity is exposed to the world?)

❁ RAINY DAYS | JEON JUNGKOOK - PART ONE - @rklve (your life choices left not only yours, but jungkook's heart broken in peaces. now you're back in town, and just like pluto, even if it's cold and dark, he tends to orbit around his sun forever.)

❁ seven days a week | jjk (m) masterlist - @jjkeverlast (jeon jungkook has always had crazy ideas, but wanting to fuck you every day of the week was the last thing you expected.)

❁ blueberry haze | jjk - @caelesjjk (he had been eye fucking you from the stage all night. but you never expected anything to come of it. but when you run into the beautiful blue haired drummer after the show, you decide to let him show you some of his other talents.)

❁ cabin fever | jjk (m) - @jeongi (trapped in a cabin with your ex-best friend jungkook, you’re forced to overcome the fallout between you two.)

[caitlinbueckers]

told you so.

kate martin x reader

2.9k

woooooh this is a fucking doozy guys. literally received one (1) anon and then i blacked out for an hour and a half soooo here’s this ! realized during this journey that kate martin means an unfathomable amount to me and it’s like . Actually concerning 🔥🔥

ANYWAYS it’s giving Kate martin’s controversially hidden girlfriend that goes lowk public at the wnba draft like SHUT UP

18+ AS FUCK

“babe, quit looking at me like that.”

if there’s one thing you know, above the fact that you were certain there was gonna be an unsuspected draft tonight, was that kate martin could be such a bitch in the morning.

not that this was new for you, in any sense— you’d been more than used to it since the dawn of your relationship, learning all the little things about her that made her tick. whether that was her favorite to least favorite foods, or teams, even her obsession with fucking hot sauce.

you knew she still slept with her childhood blankie, the one currently curled under her chin atop the hotel comforter because she’s ridiculous, and because nobody has ever and would ever disrespect her blankie game.

and above all, you knew how much she wasn’t a morning person.

“you’re so dramatic,” you snort, pushing yourself up onto your elbows with a tired, but mocking voice as she emits a slow groan, turning to shove her face into the pillow, her body curling away from yours in an act of indignance that only makes you laugh.

you were far too used to her acting like a baby, so the action only made you sit up on your knees, slinging a leg over her so you could straddle her sides, leaning down to pepper kisses against the side of her face as she lets out a string of groans that turn into halfhearted chuckles, until her hands are planted firmly against your thighs, bare due to the oversized IOWA shirt that she insisted on you wearing.

‘for good luck,’ you remembered her snickering, something you knew was really just ‘easy access’.

her voice is still hoarse from sleep, quiet and raspy and tinged with that midwestern accent that you’ll never give up on bullying her for, when she whispers, “dude, you’re so annoying.”

of course, she proves it by hoisting you off of her, onto the bed, simulating something like a WWE smackdown moment as she rolls over onto you, mumbling something that you really can’t decipher due to her face in your neck, your chest, basically every place she knows will pull that hysterical, annoyingly high pitched laugh out of you, that for some reason, she loves.

“can’t believe you made it here.” she murmurs quietly against your cheek, lips moving lazily against the skin before she lays a smacking kiss there, and it’s almost gross, how much saliva she uses, but you snicker anyway, hand coming up to stroke through her blonde strands.

in all honesty, you couldn’t really believe it either. it had been soemthing close to hell trying to get it all straightened out, from clothes to hotels, to transportation and getting from des moines to brooklyn, not to mention just how fucking exclusive it had been to even get a seat open with all the hype surrounding women’s college basketball, the posterity that the final four teams had brought to the sport— not to mention, the fact that you and kate weren’t public in the fucking slightest, so having to account for that definitely sucked.

of course, it was a huge accomplishment, one that would definitely go down in the history of sports in general, so of course it was a huge fucking honor that your girlfriend was apart of it—

but also, you just thought it was hot.

in fact, the thought makes you smirk to yourself, corners of your mouth curling upwards in a self righteous grin as you turned your head, bumping noses with her to whisper, “can’t wait to see you all dressed up, baby,” she snickers at that, and you kiss her lips once, twice, three times before continuing, “and, i can’t wait to see where you get drafted so i can buy myself a plane ticket.”

the subsequent groan you receive is expected, but it doesn’t deter you even slightly, “and to watch you play on a professional fucking team, like, kate, i’m basically wet thinking about it right now.”

that makes her laugh out loud, and it warms you just a bit to hear it.

it’s not like kate has been super confident about it recently, usually choosing to not speak or avoid talking about how bad she wants it— especially considering the night being mainly for caitlin, an old teammate of yours from school and one of kate’s best friends on the squad, and arguably, one of the best players in the league (next to kate, of course).

still, it didn’t change your focus, or the unyielding hope you had for the possibility of kate getting drafted— no matter how late in the draft it could be.

“babe, quit selling yourself short, okay? you’re a legend. it would be literally, fucking stupid to pass you up, okay?” she doesn’t respond at first, her eyes closed and lashes brushing her cheeks, before she flutters them open just a crack, blue peeking through as you offer her a grin, one that she only rolls her eyes to, but kisses you regardless. you knew how much she hated to talk about it, but it didn’t matter.

you knew you were right, anyway.

“mmmiloveyou.” it comes out in one smushed whisper against your mouth, before you nip at her bottom lip, hand sneaking under the sports bra she wore to bed to brush your thumb across her ribcage, “get off of me and get ready, okay?”

—

caitlin was top draft pick, which was heavily speculated and yet still unexpected to a degree as you stood from your seat with a cacophony of shouts and hollers from around you, pride swelling thick in your chest. you’d known the girl since you two had been in middle school— seeing the same tall little girl that had hated losing in an elementary school gym turn into such an infamous champion was something alike to a parent watching their kid go off to college or something, you’d swear it.

but, to say it was nothing short of nervewracking would somehow be an understatement, and as much as you felt the impending pressure with each name called, you could only imagine how kate must’ve felt.

it wasn’t hard to tell— the way her molars steadily worked the inside of her cheek, the way her tongue would dart out to wet her lips again and again. her hand, jittering too much to be held stationary within your own, drumming along your bare thigh beside your dress— ‘self soothing’, she’d explained in a whisper, a halfhearted, almost weakened smile on her face when you’d given her a lifted eyebrow at the hand placement considering the amount of cameras that surrounded you, but somehow, despite the rush of adrenaline, decided you didn’t care either.

thankfully, you both weren’t anywhere too accessible, but it still made you wonder whether kate had been bullshitting just how anxious she actually had been the whole time for her to need your touch so badly, and for an aching moment of tenderness as you glance at her, you want to kiss her, hard, rub the tension between her eyebrows, relax the trouble in her eyes.

still, gabbie and jada were good eyes too, considering anytime the camera would so much as even pan past you two, jada would hit you with a solid elbow, one to remind you that your poker face was shit, and perhaps you’d have to try just a little harder to pretend you weren’t totally, irrevocably in love with the woman beside you.

but slowly, it was all starting to click into place.

the cameras began panning to kate more and more, your own eyes flickering to the set and noticing how everytime you’d look, there’d be an official looking right past you, right at kate. a surge of excitement rose within you, one that had the words bubbling from your mouth in an urgent whisper,

“baby, i think—“

until an official, dressed in black with a wireless pair of headphones in each ear and a smile, touched kate’s shoulder.

“ms. martin, we’re gonna go ahead and have you and your party move down the aisle just a bit— there’s been a slight seating issue, if that’s okay with you guys?”

jada elbows you extra hard this time, and for some reason it solidifies that feeling you get, one that makes your heart leap as you all nod, getting to your feet without argument, only as kate turns to give you a look that’s supposed to be scolding, but fuck, you can see the glimmer of hope in it that makes your chest constrict, your eyes burn in pride.

“you’re giving me eyes, and for what?” she hums, the teeth against her cheek working overtime as you all settle into the new seats, kate at the end of the aisle, and a fluttery feeling in your chest, “no reason.” you say it almost smugly, as if you know something she doesn’t, and you don’t, but god, you can feel it.

the names fly off, left and right, number 16, and kate’s knee starts bouncing slightly, number 17 and your heart feels like it’s going way too fucking fast, number 18, and jada peers around you to glance at kate, and then…

las vegas, aces— kate martin.

if watching caitlin win had felt like a parent watching their child, this must’ve been adjacent to winning the fucking lottery.

you’re on your feet in mere seconds, the tears that had built finally dripping down your cheeks, a fact you’d only come to find embarrassing once you realize how visible they are on the playback, but fuck it, your girl was going pro.

she wastes no time in wrapping you up, her face ducking into your shoulder as your arms twine around her middle, thinking subconsciously of how you know you shouldn’t risk it, but kate doesn’t seem to mind, only releasing you with a single arm to embrace jada, and then gabbie, before she’s back to you.

of course, it doesn’t occur to you in the moment, that it’s a hard launch— no, it doesn’t really sink in until she kisses you hard against the temple before she’s breezing down the aisle, the subsequent eruption in applause leaving you starstruck, in silent awe.

after that, it’s somewhat of a blur— she takes her picture and accepts her jersey, the newscasters going off on some spiel about your girlfriends work ethic, her attitude, her endurance, everything you already fucking knew, had known for so long, that she’d finally have a chance to prove.

the moment she’s back beside you, it also doesn’t register to you that she must’ve been just as accepting about the reveal, because it’s only a second that she’s in her seat before she plants a soft kiss to your mouth, the dark lipstick you’d been steadily biting off in anxiety sticking to hers and she’s grinning, bigger than she had all day, and for a moment, you think you might actually collapse because god,

you love her. so fucking much.

“told you so,” you make out between the tears, smiling through the tightness in your voice that makes you sound warbled, whimpering even as she just laughs at you, her thumb careful to wipe beneath your eyes, “guess you did.”

of course, it’s only customary that after such a good night, everyone must get fucked up— so, that’s exactly what happens.

you get to gush to caitlin— hugging her tight around the neck and congratulating her a million times, to which she reciprocates when it comes to you and kate, garnering a blush on your already alcohol flushed cheeks, rolling your eyes as you punch her arm.

“whatever, fever.”

“whatever, ‘ace’.”

you pretend you don’t notice the quotations she puts around it, and give her a friendly middle finger instead— if kate was an ace, that meant you basically were too, at least by proxy.

“hey money,” you call to kate affectionately, seeing only the back of her head as she talks to gabbie, your arms sliding around her waist to hold her tight from behind.

“my love,” she greets with a smile, looking over her shoulder to pucker her lips at you, expecting a kiss that you so easily return. it feels fucking terrifying, in all honesty, to be so open, but you can’t find it within you to care enough to give it up— not when she’s this happy.

“dude, you totally knew, didn’t you? there’s no way you would’ve started crying like that unless you knew.” she’s drunk, chattering at a volume level beyond what’s needed considering you were right behind her, hand sneaking beneath her blazer, but you can’t help the way you shrug, “i’m always right, huh?”

later that night, she shows you just how right you are.

it’s past a decent hour to still be tugging off clothes from the night prior— the clock read four in the morning, but the windows spoke of the twinkling lights that surrounded, the city not quite awake, but never asleep.

“you’re a pro,” you hum against her mouth as you tug off her blazer, hands making quick work of the belt that kept you from exploring, smirking at the look she gives you, daring and all too fucking sexy, “it’s so hot to think about.”

“yeah?” her fingers hook beneath the straps of the dress until she’s dragging them down your shoulders, “you want me to show you how professionals do it?”

the next thing you know she’s between your legs, nothing but a white top and her slacks on, unbuttoned, as she hikes a leg over her shoulder, kisses along the inside of your thigh with an intensity only comparable to how she is after a really good game.

“fuck—!” it leaves your mouth in a sound that’s almost unrecognizable, the realization that you’d been pleasantly and uncomfortably horny ever since the draft had ended making itself known considering just how much kate had been unrelenting during press— hands on your hips or on the inside of your thigh, toying with the hair on the back of your neck or grasping the inside of your elbow to lead you along.

she knew it drove you crazy, you knew she’d make it up to you later.

her mouth makes easy work on you, tongue long and flat as she laps against your cunt, rough in all the ways that she knew you could handle— thumbs pressing fingerprint bruises into your skin, breath hot and heavy against your clit, hips moving on their own accord as you gasp out a string of incoherent whimpers. “shit, baby- just… just like that.”

it wasn’t like kate had ever failed at getting you off, but tonight, she performed as if it was her last game, greedy almost as she drinks you in, making sure to not leave one bit of you unchecked. her tongue is almost sinful in the way it makes your voice careen, high and whining, your hand finding a permanent tangle into her already mussed hair.

but she’s cocky tonight, presumptuous right before you orgasm as she raises her head to kiss your thigh, biting the skin before she’s climbing onto the bed beside you, too tall to be graceful, but you’re too fucking horny to even spare her the laughs you usually give.

“up, c’mere.” she’s breathless still, but she doesn’t let you rest for even a second, leaning across you to curl her fingers around your thigh to tug you up from your laying position, rousing you from the hazy, almost delirious state of mind as you push yourself up, letting out a shaking breath when she’s sliding your leg over her chest, hands grazing up the back of your thighs until she’s pulling you, right over over her mouth.

“kate, wha- you’re so— fuck.”

any semblance of words or sense seem to leave you in one second, as she flattens her tongue against the wetness that’s collected, the friction almost unbearable when her head tilted upwards, nose brushing hard against your clit in a way that pulls a cry from your lips. she’s unfaltering, diligent, unabashed in the way she’s moving your hips, the way she pairs each grind against her nose with a curl of her tongue, and really, it’s over before it fucking starts.

her mouth is glossy, damp when she’s done, and she smiles and it’s arrogant as she’s sliding you back down to sit you against her hips, the mere control she had of your body making you bright red as you pant pathetically, reduced to fucking nothing by her mouth.

it makes you throw your head back with a whimpering sigh, “don’t fucking look at me like that.” you complain, legs still open, thighs still trembling as she races her hands along them, “tired already?”

funnily enough, you were far from fucking tired.

“actually… was thinking about showing you some celebrity treatment?” you muse softly, as she peels off her own top, eyebrows raising, her thumb swiping along the edge of her lip before she’s placing it on the bottom of yours, pressing until it dips into your mouth, the heady taste of what you knew was yourself finding a place on your tongue.

she smirks, tongue poking between her teeth as your stomach fucking turns almost, arousal prickling unforgivingly at you once again.

“ooh,” she muses under her breath, eyes laser focused on the thumb she’d placed between your lips, voice coming out in a whisper, “i like the sound of that.”

she’s smirking though, because sex between you two have never been anything completely serious— that’s just not how kate operates, “ace money martin’s got a ring to it, huh?”

“shut up.”

“make me.”

so, you do.

[tossawary]

Every now and again, I'll come across some fanfiction in which an emotionally conflicted character will consult (usually kind of trashy) romance novels or in-universe fanfiction for advice or information. And it almost always snaps my suspension of disbelief.

If it's some terminally online teenage geek character or a hopeless romantic bookworm character? Sure! And, of course, there's great humor to be had in a sporty jock struggling with his queer awakening hesitantly picking up the bodice-ripper that his mum left on the coffee table. There ARE scenarios where "romance novels and fanfic as research" tracks just fine. I also understand the existence of the "I want to give this character I like the hobbies I like" / "I want to poke fun at this type / genre of fiction" aspect on the author's side.

But in any scenario with some normie adult man? Some straight, cisgender guy with normie dude hobbies and no evidence that he even CAN read, much less that he enjoys reading? Then it's a "not only would he not fucking do this, I honestly don't even believe he'd know this course of action exists" characterization situation.

Like, there are an astonishing number of people, especially dudes, who could not even name a romance novel to save their fucking life. No, not even a Jane Austen novel or "Twilight" or something. Their eyes glaze over that section of a bookstore. They are mentally filing that shit out to leave more room for sports or first-person-shooter video games or something. They have no respect for this type of fiction, if they're into reading fiction at all! They unconsciously or even explicitly believe that making eye contact with a bodice-ripper will permanently damage their masculinity, and they would flinch away from touching one like most people are scared of scorpions. They don't know aaaaanything about it! They have no concept of "the good stuff" versus "the bad stuff"; it's all soap operas and pornography to them, not a source of information.

And lots of people still don't even know that fanfiction is a thing. They go through life blissfully unaware of fandom wank. Or if they do know of fanfiction, it holds no appeal for them. Playing with other people's characters, or writing fictional stories about real people, is weirdo fanatic behavior to them! Not a source of information.

(And, to be clear, I'm not saying this tracks for all female characters. No, obviously, plenty of women don't like romance novels or fanfic. Plenty of women who do like those would never look at them as sources of information either, for a variety of very good reasons. It's just really funny when a story has the most normie bro guy to ever bro engage with this type of fiction.)

So, like, no, there are some characters whom I cannot be persuaded would ever read any of this stuff. (Speaking as a terminally online fanatic!) And honestly, there are plenty of more realistic and far funnier options for some normie dude character looking for love advice.

A) Friends and family. Or else colleagues and coworkers. It is almost always hilarious when a character goes up to someone else and says, "Hey, hypothetical scenario: [the stupidest shit you've heard in your life]. Any advice for that?" Also, you can have sincerely emotional conversations between friends! Or else good angst if the friend or family member reacts in a hostile manner or gives bad advice!

B) A magazine or chick flick movie. I can easily be persuaded that a normie dude would at least know these exist, or have one left at his house by an ex-girlfriend who made him watch it one time. Normie dudes are also more likely to consider these big publications more legitimate for advice than random romance novels or fanfic.

C) Some random advice column blog or non-fiction self-help book. Could be legitimately good advice for specific situations by a thoughtful professional, could be a money-grab scam written by a quack! How is some lovesick, emotionally dense guy supposed to tell by a book cover?

D) On that note: a relationship advice TikTok influencer or YouTuber or some random advice forum, probably Reddit or the like. The pros and the quacks are unhelpfully everywhere now! And possibly even have a live chat acting as their studio audience to make airing dirty laundry more toxic than ever. Potentially, you will find the kindest person alive with a terrible username willing to gently walk you through therapy, the online equivalent of meeting a figurative angel in a dive bar, but probably not. Bad advice is much more likely.

E) Doing no research, remaining uninformed, and blustering through the situation based on random pre-conceptions if anything. Honestly, I think some of these guys would just ignore the problem, even a potentially deadly problem, rather than touch a Harlequin romance novel, much less AO3 fanfiction. Sexism and internalized homophobia are a hell of a drug. It's just not happening.

I don't have a clean conclusion for this, it's just a funny thing that I've noticed every now and again. There ARE guys who like these types of fiction, of course! There ARE male characters who own an e-reader full of rom novels, sure, and don't give a shit what anyone else thinks. "This [normie male character who is both pretty offline and worries about appearing sufficiently masculine in a pretty toxic way] is reading a lot of romance novels and/or fanfiction as a form of research!" Yeah, no, that's really hard to pull off. If this guy is touching the internet at all, he's far more likely to make the most ridiculous Reddit post you've ever seen and then start belligerent fights in the comments.

[101maverick]

Hi! Saw your newest post, so thought I might as well try to help with your writers block :)

How about headcanons of the bat boys dating a broke reader? Alternatively, batboys x bimbo!reader?

Hope this helps you get out of your slump, enjoy the rest of your day and take your time if you ain't up for it :]

A/n: Tysm for the request! Hope you enjoy :)

Dick Grayson

Being resident in Bludhaven, he's financially independent and certainly not rich. He refuses to depend on Bruce.

This means he hasn't got any trust fund money to give you, but he'd definitely help you out any way he can

He'd buy you practical gifts as well as normal ones whenever he's got the chance, and if you're living together the way you divide the living costs would definitely be proportional to your spending power

Dick isn't rich but he's not broke either: the average annual salary for cops in the us is roughly $66.000, but he owns the two-bedroom apartment you live in so the only thing you guys need to pay is taxes and bills, no rent to worry about. You're also not at home for most of the day, seeing as he works as a cop and you have your own job that takes up a good chunk of your day, so the electricity bill isn't very high.

I personally think Reader would not enjoy not having to pay for anything seeing as the money comes out of Dick's own pocket, so she'd at the very least insist on paying for groceries and helping out more in the house with laundry, dishes, cleaning et cetera, to even out the responsibilities as much as possible

He'd support you as much as possible if you're getting a degree, he'd be like your own personal cheerleader, and after you get it he'd organise this huge surprise graduation party for you and then help you get a job in the field of your degree

like if you became a lawyer he'd hook you up with some judges/attorneys he knows aren't corrupt and get you a job in their law firm (paid intern of course, after having worked so hard you want to make it yourself in the world)

I think you two would have tons of fun at the thrift! You wouldn't feel bad about him insisting to spend his money, and you would have the best time just perusing the racks and laughing at all the insane stuff you find plus trying on some genuinely nice clothes

One thing he splurges on though is making sure you have a state-of-the-art home gym, in fact that is why he buys your building's basement and equips it with every work-out machine under the sun plus a trapeze and equipment to practice a ton of other dynamic sports of the sort

————————————

Jason Todd

He's a crime lord so it's safe to say this dude is filthy rich

He obviously doesn't show it though and apart from having a lot of it as an emergency fund for when he needs to defend himself in gang wars I believe he anonymously donates the rest to charities

I go with the canon of Jason being catholic so I believe he gives to the Church, but it could obviously be something else like one of the many Wayne foundations (cause as much as he holds a grudge against his father he knows he's obviously not corrupt and actually helps people)

apart from this he definitely still has a lot of money

He'd refuse to see you struggle financially

He's been through that, he knows how awful it is and does not hear no for an answer when he goes to hand you insane amounts of cash

If you live together then he makes sure to get a nice apartment in the respectable parts of town, blending in with the rest of the neighbourhood to make sure the location is safe and as untraceable as possible

He handles everything and refuses to even let you pay for groceries, insisting that you concentrate on your studies and not worry about having to sustain yourself

To him you guys being a team means that you hold each other up any way you can, and you already support him immensely just by being by his side and loving him, so to him this is just doing his part and supporting you (on top of loving you like crazy of course)

One thing he'd do is make sure your house has enough space to host an insane amount of books though

On this topic I think he'd absolutely spoil you with book hauls, just taking you to every book store you can find and buying piles and piles of books

I'm talking those beautiful gold-leaf covered editions of centuries-old classics, and it doesn't matter if you already have the stories per-se in your library cause it's the edition that matters in this case, ya know?

Like sometimes you want to feel regal and distinguished reading the gold-lined hardcover Commedia, sometimes you want to feel quirky with your penguin edition Jane Eyre, other times you just want to embrace your inner sewer rat and read Macbeth from the shitty mass-produced paperbacks and Jason acknowledges and embraces it

————————————

Tim Drake

Tim, like Jason, is also filthy rich, in virtue of being the owner of Drake Industries and the representative C.E.O. for Bruce at Wayne Enterprises

You'd both live in his Nest, and given the horrendous amount of electricity it consumes it's all already paid for by his company so no need to worry about that

He would only accept "payment" for everything he does for you in the form of you making sure he goes to sleep at decent amounts of time when he's elbow-deep in a case (and tons of love, obviously)

Like Jason, he'd just hands you wads of cash

EXCEPT! He does it for the most mundane stuff. Timothy Jackson Drake is a nepo baby, no way around that. Sure, while he spent his time stalking Batman and Robin through the rougher parts of Gotham he learnt street-safety 101, but he always carried anything he needed for those nightly strolls in his backpack, and he never really learned the real value of money. "$2.70 for a small bottle of water? Sounds reasonable!" is his thought process to this day.

You two would often have these moments of 'culture shock', with Tim slowly discovering how much things should cost every time you two go out to run errands together and you discovering about the insane things the rich buy and do just because Tim decided to recount some childhood stories/told you about some stuff socialites did ad a gala

Since I think Tim's love language is quality time I think he'd take you on these absurd trips whenever possible, that to you are to absurd places but to him it's a very normal trip because "my parents always went there twice a year? It's an extremely normal vacation spot?" Meanwhile it's the Maldives or a private island in Greece or something

This being Tim you also HAVE to have a state-of-the-art phone, with tons of features you will never need to use since you're a civilian but it makes him more at ease, knowing that if the need arises you have the ability to disarm a bomb with the click of a button on your display

————————————

Damian Wayne-Al Ghul

Oh he'd absolutely refuse to have you living anywhere but a castle

It'd take convincing for him to have you living in anything less than a penthouse in the diamond district

He's not against the idea of you working, but he doesn't think that it's necessary for you to slave away at a minimum-wage job while you could be spending all your time in luxury while studying for your degree

After you get your degree he'd help you find a job at one of the most important places for your specialisation, pulling the needed strings just to make sure your resume isn't overlooked (nothing more, he's of the idea that his partner should be strong, plus he believes you to be extremely capable and so thinks that pulling strings to get you the job would be a disservice and an offence to you)

Absolutely spoils you with gifts, and by that I mean: clothes, jewellery, if you like cars he'll buy you a carpark, anything you look at for more than two seconds he'll buy

Damian's way of showing love is through gestures, so you rejecting his gifts would hurt him and he'd take it to mean that you are rejecting him/are unsatisfied with him

Like with Tim, you both would have "Culture shocks" over stuff like the worth of money, lifestyle and stuff like that

Because Damian is basically a royal (or at the very least was raised like one, I don't know what's happened to the LoA in current canon) I think he'd lowkey try to get you an armed guard for when you need to go out as a sign of love lol

"Damian I've been feeling watched while going out as of late" "Don't worry Beloved, that's just the armed guard" "Oh ok-I'm sorry what?!"

Things like anniversaries, birthdays and big events are celebrated in the most lavish settings but in a private way still, like he'll absolutely spoil you and take you to visit this super famous castle for your birthday, matter of fact he'll rent it out for the occasion

For real he does this because when you're alone he can be himself and he loves doing that when you're both experiencing something that makes you happy-- But! Those are head canons for another time hehe >:)

————————————

Bruce Wayne

I believe he's the only one in the bat family who knows the worth of money while having being rich his entire life (ya know, having to use all the disguises he does and going undercover as a normal person a lot of the time)

He definitely offers you a job at Wayne Enterprises, and if you accept he agrees to keeping your relationship under wraps so that no one will start saying that you 'sleep with him for the job'

On that topic if the relationship ever goes public and people start saying that, he will fire them without hesitation

And if it's business partners joking with him about it, he won't stop dealing with them for the sole purpose of covertly crippling their reputation so badly they'll have no choice but to sell their companies to him

You obviously live with him at the Manor, and he insists that everything be paid for by himself only (ya know, richest man in New Jersey and probably the world soooo....)

Bruce is really bad with his emotions, he tends to really repress them whenever he deems them something he's not 'worthy' of feeling or whenever he perceives he has failed at something or failed someone, so the mere fact he confessed his feelings towards you and that he doesn't shun your love is a huge step forward for him. This doesn't mean that he's good at expressing his emotions when he doesn't repress them though, especially not with words.

This is why his main love languages are gift-giving and acts of service, because he shows his love through actions.

Gift-giving as an important love language for him happens because he's very busy both during the day and the night, so sometimes your schedules just don't align or he even has to go off-world with the Justice League and stuff, so he 'makes up' those missed acts of service with lavish gifts

Usually this could be seen as 'throwing money at the problem and hoping it fixes itself' but the thing is that Bruce's gifts are pretty much always spontaneous. He's out and about in his public persona or patrolling as batman, and he sees a storefront with something that reminds him of you or that he thinks you would like. The next logical step is obviously buying it for you as soon as possible and getting it to the manor. Because Bruce is really bad at showing it but the people he loves are always at the forefront of his mind (when he's not being an asshole and repressing his emotions as if the fate of humankind depended on his ability to give his family the cold shoulder and communicating only in grunts and sighs)

———————————— A/n: this was so fun! I love writing head canons because there is no pressure with story flow and how much description and feeling you're putting into it, it's very similar to sharing your thoughts with a friend and that's what endears the format to me so much :) Hope you enjoyed! If you like my work, please consider reblogging and checking out my other works through the master list in my pinned post<3 Love you all🩷

Total word count: 2009

[sinning-23]

SIT, LIKE A CHAIR

Opla face sitting/p*ssy eating headcanons

Warnings: dude the title is warming enough lol. ITS 18+ BRO

Zoro

-Fuck around and hover if you want to. He’s already got his arms around your thighs, forcing you to sit.

-He’s got some kind of sorcery or some shit with his tongue cause what the fuck.

-oh you thought he was stopping after you came once? Hahahaha that’s so funny.

-makes sure you are shaking and fucking shivering when he’s done with you

-Will make sure you know how much he loves the way you taste.

-“That’s it honey, cum on my face.”

Usopp

-unfortunately doesn’t know what the FUCK he’s doing when he eats but is very very fucking skilled with his fingers.

-we all know this man’s nose is 5 mf stars and would be nice to sit on and he knows this fact.

-on the occasion that he asks you to sit on his face he’s putting everything to work, using one hand to simultaneously spread your cheeks and keep your things flush against him.

-the other is already coaxing another orgasm out of you while his tongue circle slow around your clit.

-doesn’t talk when his mouth is full, he’s got manners lol

On the rare occasion he does speak it’s often after all is said and done

-“now you can brag about being eaten out by a legendary captain”

Sanji

-oh he eats religiously. Like is that even a question?

-he gets really fucking sloppy too. He’s got your juices and his saliva down his chin and all over your thighs.

-sometimes it feels like the eating is more for him than you (sometimes it is lol)

-expect lots of worship when he’s positioned under you. He prefers to eat when you’re sitting on the edge of the counter or table and he’s kneeling down in front with your legs over his shoulders.

-“I’ve never tasted anything as divine as you. Tout va bien pour moi”

-Has definitely cum from eating you out alone

Nami

-Oh she’s fucking ruthless. I mean just so mean when she eats.

-She likes to draw loving circles on your thighs and then offset that sweetness with a pinch.

-She’ll make it seem like she’ll be nice and let you cum, only to stop completely, eyes laser focused on that adorable little frustrated knot between your brows.

-Is a bit of a shit talker honestly and between how well she works her fingers inside you, how good her tongue feels on your clit, and each teasing comment she throws your way, you’re left spiraling.

-“Ohhh how cute. You gonna cum on my face just like that? You can hold on a little longer can’t you honey?”

Shanks

-If you look closely you can see that his facial hair is slightly bleached.

-We know the fuck why.

-He makes sure you know just how much he loves your pussy when he eats. I mean yes he’s slow and damn near torturous with how he asked you be patient and wait but it’s so worth it.

-He kisses up your thigh, then over the top of your panties. Then will suck and lick over the fabric until it’s soaked.

-Once that’s done, he takes em off with his teeth and licks one long, slow stripe up before deciding to suck on your clit for just a second. Soon after he’s pulling your closer by your thighs and eating you for all your worth.

-He will not talk, well…only if it’s to get you to sit still, his eyes peering dangerously into yours.

- “Don’t. Move.” (its pretty mf hot)

-holds your hand when you finally cum on his tongue.

Buggy

-He the best eater I know- he gets down. He don’t play

-if eating was a sport he’d be the champion.

-Teats your pussy like a meal(because it is in his eyes) and makes sure nothing is left behind besides your own slick, his saliva, and your trembling thighs.

He really gets into it too. I mean he’s moaning against your folds, slurping and drooling.

-This mf is a multitasker. His hands are definitely detached and holding the back of your knees to keep you from closing your legs. and he is working yet another orgasm out of you.

-He's a talker btw so expect lots of witty and raunchy comments while you're practically convulsing from overstimulation.

-"No one makes you feel like how I do huh princess?"

-"That's it honey scream my name."

-“I could eat you forever.” He whines with his mouth full of you

Mihawk

-He's not likely to eat as much. He doesn't dislike it but would rather give to you in other ways. However, despite this little thing about himself, he makes sure it's for a reason when he eats.

-For example, had a bad day? There's a remedy for that, come sit.

-Feeling a bit insecure and self-conscious? Let him show just how amazing you really are.

-Expect to feel a lot of vibrations with how much he growls and moans into your cunt.

-Not too much of a talker but when he does it makes not only your pussy throb but your heart melt.

-"Look at yourself. So beautiful my love." (there's a mirror on the ceiling)

-He isn't afraid to kiss you when he's done either. Wants you to know just how good you taste and that every time he has the privilege of having you sit on his face its like heaven (his words more or less).

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiebingo.

Novel Movements

Countdown to Midnight Prompt: Eddie Munson | Word Count: 2684 | Rating: T | CW: Medical Emergency (Not Steddie), Language | POV: Eddie | Tags: Gym AU, Modern AU, One-Sided Enemies to Lovers, Misconceived Notions, Platonic Stobin, Steve's Flirting, But Eddie Doesn't Know That, Oblivious Eddie Munson

"Eddie Munson."

His name is said with such sarcasm that Eddie turns his head to look.

Of course.

Just what he needed today.

"Steve Harrington," Eddie mimics in the same mocking tone. He doesn't know very many names in this place, but Steve Harrington has made sure Eddie knew his, even if it was totally against Eddie's will.

Now, Steve's standing there, grinning at him.

He's not going to put up with him. Not today. 

Eddie hates this dude more than anyone else at the gym. And there are lots of gym bros here to choose to loathe. He honestly barely knows him. But Steve Harrington is always prancing around in his little shorts, with his hair stretching towards the sky, like he's not preparing to teach a workout. Eddie isn't even sure what class he teaches. All Eddie knows is that he never seems to work up a sweat during them, as far as he's ever seen.

If he's not standing around taunting Eddie, he's leaning over the front desk, harassing Robin. She's a lesbian, Eddie is sure of it, and if Steve Harrington can't see that and know to leave her alone, he needs his eyes checked. He's always just a step too close to her, and about two steps too close to Eddie.

It's frustrating, infuriating, and Eddie hates him.

He might not sign a second contract with this place. He was asked, as a favor, to take over some classes short-term, and he's enjoyed the extra cash. But it clearly comes with a cost. 

He's gonna kill Gareth for assuring him this was a cool place to work. It's not cool. Well, it's cool. Except for Steve Harrington.

There were more than enough Steve Harringtons in his high school that he doesn't need to work alongside any more of them now.

Eddie looks away, and watches as his own kickboxing students filter in. When he was younger he needed an outlet for his teenage rage, Wayne signed him up for a kickboxing class at the local gym. At first, he hated the idea. Exercise? A sport? No fucking thanks. But he gave it a try. For Wayne. 

It was just him and some weird older dude that really preferred karate in that first class, but Eddie quickly learned to love it. The release. The pounding of his heart. How the stress would seemingly just melt away, one kick, one elbow, at a time. How the resistance, heavy and thick, would ground him. 

It was a good idea. But Wayne's ideas usually are, Eddie damn well knows that. 

And now, years later, he's the one teaching the classes to help others maybe find their love of it, too. Eddie's no sports guy. Not at all. Kickboxing is his main form of exercise. Sure, he'll use the rest of the gym every so often, since it's a perk of working here, but overall, this is his only thing. 

Nothing else has ever appealed to him in this same way. 

Steve saunters down the catwalk, the sun reflecting through the huge pane glass windows, illuminating him as he's bouncing with every step. The motherfucker always gives off main character energy, and that's true today as he glows while Eddie watches him go.

He'd much rather see him going, then coming, that's for fucking sure. He's too goddamn chipper.  

Eddie's already soaked, hair clinging to his neck, so he just as well run for a bit. It's not his favorite thing, not by a long shot, but it's necessary evil sometimes. 

The wall of treadmills is blissfully empty, and he picks one, and gets to work. Feet hitting, over and over, as he counts down the time he needs to spend on this thing. He doesn't enjoy it, but he'll do it. Occasionally.

Then he catches movement beside him.

Jesus H. Christ. 

The place is a ghost town and Steve Harrington still feels the need to set up camp right next to him. 

Eddie ignores him. Pretends he doesn't even realize he's got unwanted company, and pounds along the belt. Eddie can see him in the mirror though, unfortunately, and Steve smiles. He looks graceful while running, of course he does, especially compared to Eddie's heavy stride. 

When Eddie's cooldown begins, Eddie's grateful. He's ready to hit the showers and get the hell out of here.

Steve's still running, like it's easy as can be, even after Eddie's showered and dressed, bag slung over his shoulder. 

He's gotta get home. Tomorrow is his early class day. He's not a morning person, but he conceded to having at least one class a week before nine.

Eddie rolls in, coffee cup in hand. He hears the commotion, the frantic buzz of something is happening echoing through the open gym, bouncing down the catwalk, from room to room, like it's seeking help it just can't quite find.

"Okay, everybody, give me a second. Get a drink, stretch, I'll be back and we'll get started then," Eddie says, telling his class. They are all huddled in groups discussing what might be going on. 

He jogs down the catwalk, then peeks into every class on the other side of the split structure as he passes by, looking for the right one. Most of them are empty. When he turns the corner, he sees a crowd gathered at the end of the hall, and jogs that way. Someone's on the phone with 911, thankfully, because inside Steve Harrington is performing CPR on an older man, while everybody is just standing around watching. 

Eddie ushers them away from the door, and then starts gathering up the rest of the class Steve was teaching. A room filled with senior citizens, all in their matching sweatsuits and white New Balance shoes. Standing around, looking lost.

He's not sure where to move them. He could just send them home, but thinks they need time to unwind, process what they've witnessed, and maybe that's better done here than off somewhere else, possibly alone. He sees Gareth down the hall, and snaps his fingers, waving him over, getting Gareth to take all of the now shaken students to his classroom. No, they probably aren't gonna join in on his cardio drumming class, though Eddie knows he's offered one for seniors in the past.

Then Eddie runs back in, and it's just Steve Harrington, working his ass off on this poor guy.

Eddie counts for him, like he's been trained. 1, 2, 3, over and over and Steve follows the beat of Eddie's cadence until he looks worn out.

He's sweating now. Bangs clinging damp and limp to his forehead, and Eddie hates it. It looks unnatural.

"We'll switch, in 3, 2, 1," Eddie says, and Steve lifts his hands and Eddie takes over. 

"I got…I started, fast. I think, I think, maybe," Steve breathes out in short bursts, clearly exhausted. Out of breath and shaken.

Then, Steve counts for him, while Eddie listens for sirens.

It doesn't take long before he hears them, screaming up the road, and they switch off again as Eddie runs to the main stairs to guide them in. 

The professionals take over, and Eddie stands next to Steve, watching as they shock the guy back into a normal rhythm. Maybe they did it. Maybe Steve did it. Time is the most important thing, and Steve started right away. There's a chance.

Steve gave him a chance.

Hopefully, the guy will be okay.

Hopefully, Steve will be okay.

After they wheel him out, Steve looks around, "My class."

"They're fine. Gareth's got 'em. Probably turning them into the next Ringo's as we speak."

Steve cracks a grin, but it's small, and not all there.

"C'mon," Eddie says, "you can watch me teach my beginner class, if you want, and then we'll go get something to eat. You look like you need it."

After checking in with his class first, Steve agrees, and that's how Steve Harrington, enemy number one, ends up sitting on a fitness ball, watching Eddie prepare to teach his kickboxing for beginners class.

There's an empty bag, and Steve nods towards it when Eddie circles past, "Can I?"

Eddie grins, "You want to?"

Steve nods, and Eddie nods back, helping him get set up. 

He's a natural, Eddie thinks, as he helps him make small adjustments, and then just lets him follow along. 

Maybe he's never done any kickboxing before, but he's clearly athletic. He follows Eddie's instructions well, is very flexible, and definitely not afraid to get to work. For a beginner his kicks are high, strong and confident. He's comfortable behind the bag, as he seems to be getting all his frustrations from the day out on the bag. Good. That's what he's supposed to do in here.

When the hour is up, he's dripping sweat, exhausted.

Steve's wiping his brow with the tail of his shirt, letting Eddie get a glimpse of his hairy belly. Not the right time, not the right person, Eddie has to remind himself. 

"Still want that breakfast?" Eddie asks.

"Hell, yes. I'm starving. That was a workout."

Eddie laughs, and follows him down the stairs and towards the locker room. 

They both shower, and today Eddie's not annoyed that he's in the stall next to him, not like he was on the treadmill. 

It's funny how a moment or two can change your whole perspective that you just assumed was set in stone.

They pass the front desk, scanning their keycards to sign out, and Robin stands, looking at Steve, clearly concerned. She's fidgeting, worrying her hands. 

"Are you okay? Chrissy said–"

"I'm good," he says, interrupting, reassuring her, and Eddie watches them interact. She comes around the desk and throws her arms around his neck, squeezing him tight. 

He hugs her back, "Thanks, Rob. I needed that."

"You sure you're okay? Do you want me to find someone to cover–"

"Eddie's taking me to breakfast," Steve says, and Eddie does not miss the little widening her eyes do before she schools her face back to neutral. 

"Well, that's nice of you, Eddie," she says, and Eddie realizes he's been very, very wrong about whatever their dynamic is. She adores him, obviously. 

They hit the sidewalk, "So, Robin. Is she your…"

"Best friend. She's my best friend."

Eddie nods. That checks out. Steve was annoying her, but on purpose, mutually agreed upon nuisances, without a doubt.

They're best friends. He wasn't trying to pick her up against her will.

That's interesting.

Very interesting.

"Functional fitness," Steve says, sitting across from Eddie in the booth at the diner down the street from the gym, "it's for anybody, but I mainly teach seniors. It helps keep them mobile longer, and that makes me feel like I'm making a difference, you know?"

Eddie didn't know. Eddie had no idea what Steve was doing across the building, and had clearly assumed the worst, instead of the best of him.

He was wrong about Steve Harrington, he's pretty sure.

Steve keeps talking, "It helps them with everyday tasks, you know? Push, pull, carry. That kind of thing. So, I'll get younger participants that are rehabbing injuries, or that have chronic illnesses. But it mainly skews older, for sure. I never expected one of them to go down. I don't have them do novel movements over their hearts or anything, I swear."

Eddie nods. He's not sure what a novel movement is, not really.

"What a novel movement?" he asks.

"Well," Steve says, "it's like, something that you don't do everyday. A change. Shoveling snow. Shoveling snow is a novel movement, and that's why so many people unexpectedly die doing it."

Steve makes the motion for slinging a shovel full of snow over his shoulder, "So, like, I'm not making them do things like that."

"No shoveling snow in the gym, got it," Eddie says, teasing him a little, and Steve chuckles.

"You know what I mean," Steve says.

"I do," Eddie agrees. 

"I've never had that happen before," Steve then says quietly.

"And hopefully never again," Eddie comments. "It's not your fault. It's probably lucky for him he was with you. Best possible outcome if it had to happen."

Steve runs both of his hands down his face.

"Maybe."

Steve Harrington really isn't so bad, he supposes. He clearly cares a whole lot about what happened today.

The server puts down their plates, and they eat in silence, but it isn't uncomfortable.

Then Steve speaks again, "Thanks for helping, I was surprised to see you."

"Why?"

"You always seem so annoyed when I try to chat you up," Steve says.

Eddie can't really deny it. He has been annoyed. 

Wait.

Wait.

Was Steve trying to chat him up, chat him up? Like, flirting? Eddie wasn't reading flirting from him, that's for damn sure. 

Maybe he needs to pay better attention. That's been a common theme in his life, but usually about school, not attractive men that may or may not be interested in him.

"My bark is worse than my bite," Eddie settles on, and offers him a smile.

Steve laughs, his mood finally lifting, just a little, "Well, I hope not."

Holy shit. 

Eddie is such a goddamn idiot.

He's being flirted with. He's been being flirted with, for all the time he's known Steve Harrington.

Steve sits there for a minute, stirring his drink with his straw, knocking the ice around, "Do you think any of them will show up again?"

It takes Eddie a minute to parse his meaning, "Your class? Of course they will."

Steve rolls his shoulders in a non-convinced way.

"Steve. They know how old they are. You didn't do anything wrong."

Eddie doesn't know that. Not for sure. But he believes it to be true. He's just not sure how to prove it to him. Steve clearly cares too much to have done anything risky. 

Instead, Eddie asks, "When's your next class?" 

"Tomorrow."

"For the same people?"

"Some of them. Not everybody comes everyday."

"But some do?" Eddie asks.

"Some do," he confirms. "Usually, anyway. I have regulars. Vincent was a regular."

"Well," Eddie says, "I'll come. Then we'll know at least one person will be there. You took my class, so I should take yours. It's only fair."

Steve laughs, "It's not gonna be nearly as exciting as kickboxing."

Well, Steve's gonna be there. So, that sounds pretty exciting to Eddie.

The next day the class is as full as ever, Eddie suspects. And they're all kind to Steve, patting him on the back for saving their fellow classmate. He's stable in the ICU, and things are looking positive. Steve did good. He did real good.

The only discourse is a few of them trying to figure out how they're going to figure out the scheduling to take both Steve's functional fitness class and Gareth's cardio drumming. Eddie's pretty sure the kid is gonna have to add a senior class to his schedule again now that everyone got a preview of something they may have never tried on their own.

Eddie sidles up to their conversation, "I know Gareth. I'll make sure he schedules it so you can do both."

And just like that, he's won them over as well.

Steve gets started, and Eddie follows along with the routine Steve's leading. There are chairs for some of the less stable to hang onto, when needed, and it's just a thoughtful experience, honestly. Steve's kind, and funny, and they very clearly adore him.

He might not break a sweat, but he's really doing something special here. 

Eddie really hopes he'll get to tell him that later, over dinner, or drinks. Anything he wants, as long as Eddie can make up for lost time and for being a judgmental asshole for no good reason.

Steve grins, and Eddie smiles back as they get in place for the next rep in the set.  

Now, Eddie is certain that he wants to get outside of his comfort zone, outside of the box, when it comes to Steve Harrington.

Novel movements, indeed.

If you want to sign up for a future bingo event or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiebingo and follow along with the fun!

Notes: I didn't know where this was going, but I knew I wanted to use "Eddie Munson" the prompt as his name being said by Steve. So I got as far as, "Eddie hates this dude more than anyone else at the _."

Where? Where are they? I wondered if I could find a randomizer for jobs, and just...see if that would produce an idea. I did, right here, and spun the wheel and got "personal trainer" which isn't exactly where this led, but it got them in the gym, and the rest of the story fleshed itself out from there.

[strawhbrrries]

Ride, Cowgirl.

pairing: dbf!southern!frank castle x afab!reader

summary: neither of you can keep last night off your mind, needing more Frank finds comfort in your room.

warnings: age gap (reader is 22, frank is 52), use of pet names, dirty dirty thoughts!!!, mention of a divorced dad?, fingering, sex!!, praise kink asf, oral (f receiving), soft frank, reader calls him frankie accidentally, frank making noise in bed, riding like a cowgirl!!, bearded frank <3, no mentions of y/n, no descriptions of reader, not proofread

word count: 3514 words

author’s note: I’m in love with darlin’ and frank, they are simply the lomls currently. anyway, the end gives the perfect set up for a third part if it is desired!! In the meantime, it’s 1;30 am for me and I need sleep!! please enjoy &lt;3

read the first part cowgirl ! and the next part cowboy hats !

Boyfriend by COIN played on the speaker your dad, conveniently, left outside as you laid on one of the pool loungers.  Thoughts of Frank consuming your mind, thoughts of his hands and his voice and the way he smelled and how he looked pain that he couldn’t fuck you in the backseat of his truck. Your fingers finding themselves rubbing the side of your neck, the very spot Frank had found comfort. 

“So how did last night go?” Tiff asked, hanging over the side of the pool to look at you. Your heart raced, did she find out? How would she? Did you accidentally call her when you were panting his name like it was the only word you knew? The way you froze as she asked a simple question, immediately made her suspicious of you.

“Huh?” You asked, in hopes of getting her to elaborate just a bit so you could come up with the lie of your life. Or maybe, you should confide in her. She is your girl for life, it’s not like she’s gonna judge you for doing it. If anything, she’d praise you and beg for details.

“After I left? How did the rest of the night go? Your dad doesn’t have the most interesting friends on the planet. All they talk about is work and their lack of wives.” She rolled her eyes, laying her head on her hands and kicking her legs in the water. 

“Actually…” You smiled, bringing your knees up to your chest to hide behind them as the blush spread across your body.

“Oh. My. God. Hold on!” She rushed to climb out of the pool, dripping water all over you as she sat on the opposite end of the lounger. If gossiping was a team sport, the two of you would have ten gold medals, if anyone asked you weren’t necessarily talking shit but simply saying how you felt about people.

“So, after you left, Frank and I went to the gas station and I asked if he had been with anyone younger. I don’t know what got into me, Tiff! He just looked so…godly. I wanted to jump his bones the second I came downstairs from changing.” You covered your face with your hands and groaned, the blush was probably becoming permanent at this point. You were going to be bright red for the rest of your life.

“Your dad’s best friend?! Holy shit dude. C’mon spill!” She laughed, prying the hands off your face and sitting expectantly. You were beyond grateful for the fact she wasn’t judging you and was actually interested. Maybe that was a bad thing, you didn’t care.

“Anyway, he said ‘Not yet’ and I was in shock or something! So, I reached over and kinda did a weird caress thing to his beard. I was flyin’ by the seat of my swimsuit, I’ve never been with a man who has any sort of facial hair. But he kissed me, and I mean like Really kissed me.i’ve never been kissed like that before, Tiff. Mind blowing.” Unbeknownst to you, the very man you were speaking about had walked out the back door and could hear the whole conversation. His chest swelled with pride, in some fucked up way he was glad no one had ever kissed you like that. It meant there was a lot more he could do way better than any of the other people you’d been with, and he’d be damned if he didn’t ruin you for any other man out there.

“Your dad is about to come out here, suggest you find somethin’ else to talk ‘bout.” He hollered at the two of you, your head whipping around so fast it was a miracle you didn’t give yourself whiplash, chuckling at the way your eyes widened when you realized he had heard you talking about him. “Quit speakin’ so damn loud anyway, sure the whole neighborhood heard.”

Frank didn’t truly mean what he said, he would love to listen to you retell the story of your escapades, what he didn’t want was your father to hear and put two and two together. He didn’t need to get into some shitty mess with the one constant in his life, he owed more to your dad than he cared to admit and ruining that friendship would send Frank to an early grave. That in no way meant he regretted what he did last night, and everything else he planned to do. He simply wanted to go about all this in a way that wouldn’t cost him his friendship but still gives him his girl, gives him you. He prayed for the first time last night, and he really truly prayed, for a situation where it all works out and he’s not back to square one. With nobody. Again. 

“Thanks for the warning, Mr. Castle.” Tiff shouted back, a smug smile playing on her face, giving him a small wave. She nudged your shoulders, giggling at the whole situation. All you wanted to do was shrink and disappear, you couldn’t be more embarrassed. You felt small and helpless, your best friend thought it was hilarious. God if you can hear me, please kill me.

You spent the whole morning thinking about him and the consequence of what you did, how would your next interaction go? Would it be weird? Would he pretend it never happened, that he wasn’t dying to have you right then and there. Yet, here you were no true interaction but you were the one cowering away from it. You were the one trying to pretend like it didn’t happen, when truthfully you wanted to shout it from the rooftops and let everyone know who had given you the best orgasm of your life.

“I’m going to shrink to the size of ant and drown myself in the fuckin’ pool, Tiff. I swear to god.” You slouched as far down in the lounger as you could, squeezing your eyes closed in some desperate attempt to make it all disappear. “Of course he would be here right now.”

“Ants don’t have lungs, they can’t technically drown. Besides, it’s not like he came out here and murdered you, all he did was tell you to be quieter. He also made no indication or mention of last night, so stop lettin’ that pretty head of yours go wild.” Tiff rubbed her hand soothing up and down your arm, she knew better than anyone the way your mind would take someone breathing at you and interpret it as they hate you and want you dead. That’s why she worked so well with you, the sane and grounded to your wild and anxious. 

“I don’t think it would matter even if he did, the principle of it all is what’s causing my worries. Do you think worry dolls are still a thing? I could most definitely use one right now.” A groan once again left your mouth, your eyes opening and searching for the older man who was carrying planks of wood across your backyard. Your father walked out of the house, giving you and Tiff a wave before hollering at Frank about whatever they were building.

The whispers and giggles coming from the two of you were intriguing Frank, he wanted to know exactly what you were telling her and what you were intentionally leaving out. He wanted to know if you were even talking about him, or if she was telling you the real reason that I just left abruptly last night. Because he knew, he wouldn’t say anything to you about it unless you brought it up first, but he knew. The work in front of him was becoming increasingly less interesting, he was so close to telling your dad to throw in the towel and call it a day. He didn’t even know what he was building anymore, he truthfully didn’t care but your dad did. That was enough for him to keep going.

“Those two have been out all day, shockin’ they’re not burnt or nothin’.” Your dad commented, planting his shovel in the ground and leaning against it. He smiled your way, not that you noticed as you were preoccupied with Tiff. You were his pride and joy, his baby. He’d murder anyone for you, it was a part of the reason you never brought anyone home. 

“‘M not shocked. Last summer, I’m not sure either one of em spent any more than twenty minutes inside. Make sure she- they wear sunscreen, don’t need em getting skin cancer.” Frank was quick to correct himself, not that your dad would’ve found anything wrong with his original statement but he was covering all his bases. Not that he didn’t care for the other girl, Tiff was her name? He didn’t need to know her name, not when he knew yours. 

“I’ll make sure to pick some up from the store the next time we make it to the grocery, I know my girl wears some. Not sure ‘bout her friend.” His girl. The words made Frank irrationally angry, you were his daughter but the thought of someone else staking claim over you drove him mad. One night with you and he was acting, and thinking, like you were his wife. Wife. No.

Frank had met your father when you were nineteen, hadn’t met you until you were twenty. It wasn’t like he was truly doing anything wrong but he was going to fight a never ending mental battle about you. Going through every hoop to tell himself neither of you was doing anything wrong, that you weren’t going to be in trouble for your actions. That it was, simply, okay.

The sun was setting, the breeze taking over and raising the hair on your skin. You truly had been outside all day, with sunscreen reapplied every hour or so, you were bound to find a few sunburnt spots in your shower. You exchanged goodbyes with Tiff and made your way to your room to start the nightly routine you had adopted since being home, switching the bluetooth from the speaker outside to the one inside your room. You opened the window, your music slowly starting to dance with the breeze, when a soft knock on your door grabbed your attention.

“Hey cowgirl.” Frank whispered, just barely loud enough to be heard over your music, making his way into your room and studying it. Committing all the bits and pieces of it to his memory.

“I’m so sorry about earlier, if you don’t want me to tell Tiff anymore I won’t. I just, I tell her everything and I needed to tell someone.” Your cheeks slowly started turning pink, Frank thought you were cute like that.

“Don’t apologize, darlin’. I didn’t care, just warnin’ ya ‘bout your dad is all.” He walked closer to you, his height very apparent, your head the perfect height for his chest. He brought a finger up to your cheek, dragging it down before tucking your hair behind your ear. 

“I appreciate it, I know how much he means to you.” No you didn’t. He knew you knew a small bit not enough to truly understand what the two of you meant to him. He would be forever indebted to your father if it meant keeping you, if it meant holding you and kissing you. Consuming himself with you.

“So pretty.” He truly whispered, admiring every inch of your face, leaning down to kiss you. Your heart stopped, he didn’t regret it? He thought you were pretty?

You decided to stop fucking thinking for once and enjoy it, leaning up to meet him halfway in the kiss. Threading your fingers through his hair, much like he did with yours in his truck. One his hands held the side of your face while the other tucked itself into the waistband of your swimsuit bottoms, rubbing at the indentation it left from being worn all day. 

“Ready to ride, cowgirl?” He asked, pulling away from the kiss enough to nip at your jaw as he waited for an answer. He wouldn’t be mad if you said no, he would be patient and wait until you were, but he went home and fucked his hand like a horny teenage boy at the thought of you on top of him.

A whimper is all you managed to respond with, your mind momentarily thinking about your dad but was interrupted by the softness of your mattress touching your back. 

“Goddamn swimsuits, prancing around in practically nothing.” He remarked, still standing as he eyed your body. His finger snapped the strap of your bottoms, smirking at the sound before he dragged them down your legs. 

“What’s your favorite color?” You asked softly, making him burst into laughter. 

“For what?” He responded, controlling his laughter at the fact you would ask that right now. 

“So I can wear one that color the next time you’re over.” You smiled, looking up at him. Somehow he looked even prettier from this angle, if that was possible. 

“Uh, probably red.” He gave a bit of thought before responding, curious to know if you would actually be wearing a bikini the next time you saw him. At your house, anyway. 

He stashed the bikini bottoms in his back pocket, pulling you to the edge of the bed by your ankles and getting down on his knees. Frank thanked all the heavens and the stars for the meal he was about to eat right before licking a stripe through your folds and sucking on your clit. The stimulation instinctively caused your thighs to close, causing him to force them back open and lay one arm across a leg with his hand splayed across your stomach.

He moaned.

He moaned.

Frank moaned, was he enjoying this as much as you were? Were there any downsides or faults to this man? 

He moved his mouth closer to your clit, paying almost all his attention to it as he inserted his middle finger slowly. A wanton moan making its way to his ears, he thought everything about you was pretty. If he wasn’t rock hard when he took your bottoms off, he definitely was now. The stretch in his jeans was not entirely comfortable, it truthfully wouldn’t be able to accommodate much more. 

“Frank, Frankie, please..” 

Did you just- did he imagine that? He’d never had anyone call him that before, but it sounded so damn good coming from your lips.

“What, pretty girl? Use your words for me. Tell Frankie what you need.” 

“‘M so close, please need more.” You whined, to him it even sounded a bit like you were going to cry. He’s bet his life savings you were a pretty crier, a pretty anything. He just wanted to look at you. Always.

All he wanted to do was pull out his phone and record the pleas and the moans coming from you, to listen to later if you were ever ripped from him and he didn’t get to experience this, experience you, ever again. If it weren’t for your fucking music. He was thankful for it, blocking your sounds from anyone in the house. He added his ring finger into the mix, relishing in the sound you made. You were his drug, he truly was addicted. He needed his next fix before this one was over. 

Moments after he sped up his fingers and added more pressure to your clit, your orgasm ripped through you. Body shaking, eyes rolling back. This was better than the one he gave you last night. You’d never be able to touch yourself ever again, not the way he did. You didn’t think anyone could ever compare now that Frank had touched you. 

By the time you came to, he had discarded his clothes and was on top of you. He pulled you into a kiss, swiping his tongue over your bottom lip and groaning into your mouth when you let him in. His tongue explored every inch of your mouth while his fingers explored every inch of your body. 

“I don’t have a condom.” He confessed.

“Don’t care, on the pill. Frankie please, I need you inside of me right now. Need your cock, frankie..please.” The sound of you begging for him had his ego going through the roof, the fact that anyone could want or need him this bad was mind blowing. 

He rubbed his cock through your folds, kissing you a bit more before he pushed the tip in. Your mouth opening in a gasp. You knew he was big, you saw the imprint in the truck yesterday. But this was different, the stretch hurt in a delicious way that you needed more of. He waited a moment before pushing in a bit more, toying with your clit and peppering your face with kisses to distract you.

He bottomed out, you had never felt so full in your life. You swore he was in your stomach, taking rearranging your guts to a new level. He stayed still, letting you get used to his size. He didn’t want to hurt you, too much.

“Frankie move.” 

Your wish was his command. His thrusts started slowly, building up in speed as he went. It was at this point, you realized Frank Castle was not quiet in bed. He wasn’t necessarily loud either, but he was groaning in your ear. The grunts and the groans were spurring you on, your moans and whimpers were doing the same for it. It was a cycle, and if either of you had your way it would never end. 

“Sound so damn pretty. Makin’ all these noises for me, huh? My pretty girl, my girl.” He put all his weight on his forearms, lifting himself enough to look you in the eyes, his hair falling out of place and onto your face. He was gorgeous, especially like this. Raw. Vulnerable. Just for you. 

“Your girl, yours.” You babbled, too busy reeling in the feeling of his cock driving in and out of you. How his bare skin feels on yours. His voice praising you. Calling you pretty. 

“That’s right, such a good girl.” His praises continued, some of them too muffled for you to hear as he sucked on your collarbone. Or your neck. Any exposed skin he could get in his mouth. 

Without pulling out, he flipped the two of you over so you were on top. Riding him. Cowgirl. 

“C’mon cowgirl, ride me. You can do it baby.” He lifted your hips up and placed them back down to get you started, placing your hands on his chest for you.  He slipped one of your boobs out of the top, you were still wearing, and put your nipple in his mouth. Rolling the bud between his teeth, enjoying the new sounds he managed to get.

You placed your weight on your hands, positioning your legs right, and lifted back up. He was somehow even deeper than before, it was almost overwhelming. His pelvic bone was hitting your clit just right every time you came down, accompanied by his groans, you were a goner. You fell into his chest as you felt your second orgasm start to rip through you, your words slurred as you told him to use you. You were his to use. 

Frank had been close since he put you on top, his self control had been wearing a bit thin. He fucked you through your orgasm, pistioning up inside you like his life depended on it. 

“Where do you want it, c’mon baby where?” He grunted, gritting his teeth as he tried to hold his release off. It was getting increasingly harder when your cunt was gripping him like that.

“Inside.” Is all you muttered out, half aware of your choice. You’d deal with it later. 

Not a moment later he painted your inside white, cummimg with a low and long groan. Relaxing his head completely against your pillows, taking deep breaths. You crumpled against his chest, just resting for a moment as he was still inside you. This was the most relaxed you’d been in ages, at some point you drifted off to sleep. 

You were awoken by the feeling of Frank cleaning you up and putting a blanket on top of you, obviously you knew he couldn’t stay. It still hurt. It hurt your heart, your soul, your everything. 

“Gotta go, pretty girl. I put my number in your phone. We’ll talk later.” His last sentence meant more than just texting you, you both knew it. At some point, lines had to be drawn or you had to fess up to your dad. But for now you’d live in delusion, in a world where you were in an established relationship and no one thought anything of it. He placed a kiss on your forehead, finished getting dressed and got up to leave. Stopping at the door he turned around to give you one last glance, you had already fallen back asleep. His cowgirl.

[ghostgirl-22]

artrick phone sex

I gotchu, my love <3

CW: 18+ !NSFW! First time dynamics, angst, Art has avoidance issues like me.

Apologies this may be too long and full of my own personal angst I fear.

—-

“Art?” It’s Patrick.

Art feels his stomach sinking and now he wishes he’d avoided his call, again. He rolls over on his bed and looks at the sparsely decorated wall of his dorm room. It’s his first time talking to Patrick since… since…

He shivers and tries to put it out of his mind.

“Hey,” Art says and clears his throat. “What’s up?”

Patrick chuckles.

Art shivers again. Did his voice always sound that way? Or is Art just crazy still? He’s been really crazy lately. It’s been two weeks and he’s still…

“Really? What’s up?” Patrick mimics. “That’s all you have to say?”

Art shrugs for the benefit of no one but himself. “What—um— what’s wrong with that?”

“Oh I don’t know…” Patrick hums and then he sighs. “Okay fuck it. I’ll go with it. Are you okay?”

Art is still anxious, his stomach still uneasy. It’s just Patrick. His oldest and closest and best friend and yet he can’t relax. He can’t settle down and they're just talking on the phone. He can’t imagine seeing him in person when he inevitably shows up to Stanford again to watch Tashi play. Everything is different now.

“I’m fine, Patrick.” He lies.

“But you don’t want to talk to me?” Patrick sounds weird. Worried? A little. Disappointed? Probably. Sad? Definitely.

Art sighs, he doesn’t want Patrick to be sad. “No I— I’ve just been busy. We had finals last week. And um…. practice has been crazy. I’m um… I started seeing this girl and—” he hears Patrick huff a laugh but barrels through, ignoring it. “Sorry I missed your calls.”

“And texts,” Patrick adds.

“I’m sorry,” Art says again.

They’re quiet for a while. Art turns back to look at the tv. He was watching Sports Center, they were talking about gymnastics. Apparently there had just been some kind of qualifier competition.

“Who’s this new girl your seeing?” Patrick asks. This time Art can’t tell what his tone is.

“Uh well she’s nice, pretty. She’s actually not on the team. She’s an English major.”

“Sounds hot,” Patrick says, flatly.

“Yeah, she’s um— she’s nice,” Art says. “Are you—are you high?”

“A little. I won’t lie. Me and the buddy I was telling you about we smoked a couple and then went and got tacos and Margaritas. So fucking good. Who knew Dallas was a food town?”

Art laughs. He begins to relax, this feels more like best friend stuff. Maybe he was overreacting. Avoiding him for two weeks. But of course that wasn’t the only reason Art was avoiding him. “What happened to your match?”

“Uh well— I lost again. This shit is so fucking rigged.” Patrick complains.

“Dude that fucking sucks,” Art says. He sits up on his bed and looks around for his own weed stash.

“Yeah, it’s fine though. I’m going against this guy tomorrow, stats are all over the place but I think I can take him.”

“Whats his name?”

“Moussa or Mousso… I can’t remember but he’s French. Kinda hot, actually.”

Art feels his stomach flip flop again. “Uh… so what about Tashi?”

“She’s good, she actually answers my calls. I mean not tonight but she told me her cousin would be in town so…”

”Do you want me to beg for forgiveness or something?” Art says, smirking.

Patrick takes a breath and doesn’t say anything while Art is rummaging through the bottom drawer of his night stand. He finds the baggy he was looking for and sits up on the bed, legs crossed as he opens it.

“I’m sorry but I was honestly busy.” Art adds when Patrick still hasn’t said anything.

“Are we ever gonna talk about it?” Patrick asks.

Art stops moving. His stomach begins doing all kinds of things again.

“Look I don’t want to… I don’t want it to be weird,” Patrick continues. “I can do whatever you need. If you want me to pretend I didn’t fuck you… okay fine. But you have to talk to me because I’m going fucking crazy.”

Art stares at the television but he’s not seeing anything. He gives up on the weed and tosses it on the nightstand. “Yeah um… okay.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing,” Art mutters. “I’m— we can talk.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“No,” Art says. “I—“ he lays back down on his side and looks at the wall, pulling his knees up. He wishes with everything in him that they hadn’t done it in here. In his fucking bed.

He’s got it on a loop playing in his head all the time. Patrick crawling between his legs. The way he looked, hair still damp from the shower, freckles all over, pupils too big, blue eyes all sparkly. How he smelled, like vanilla soap and cigarettes. What he sounded like, voice so much deeper and softer than normal, saying stupid things like “You’re so fucking pretty”, “Gonna make you scream my name,” and then moaning when he got it in.

And how it felt.

God.

How it felt.

That’s the part that stays with him. How much it hurt. And then how much it didn’t hurt at all. By the end Patrick was touching something inside him and he was seeing stars. In between consciousness and some other plane of existence is how good it felt. That was the silly part. Feeling like he wanted it again and again and again.

He let Patrick do it again in the morning. Patrick’s arms wrapped around his waist fucking him on his side while he stared at this wall his whole body blooming with pleasure. And then just sitting with it for the rest of the day. The ache. The stretch. The feeling like everyone could tell. Patrick left that afternoon for the airport, sent Art a text. Well that was fun. Which he ignored. Called him that evening. Also ignored.

Art had been trying to avoid thinking about it ever since (it was impossible). He’s thrown himself into school, tennis, he’s even tried to talk to a new girl. It didn’t go anywhere. In his worst moments he’s even tried to flirt with Tashi. But then he remembers she’s fucking Patrick and his mind swings right back around to the way Patrick fucked him. And that makes him more crazy because now he doesn’t know what the fuck he actually wants.

And every fucking night, late at night he’s lying in bed staring at the wall touching himself over and over… thinking about it.

He doesn’t know how to say any of this to Patrick.

“Did you die?” Patrick asks, dryly. Even now since they’ve been on the phone, just hearing Patricks stupid voice is making Art’s stomach hurt, and his cock fill up.

“No… I’m just confused okay,” Art says.

“About what?”

“I don’t know.”

”Did you hate it?” Patrick asks.

“Not really,” Art murmurs.

“You’re so fucking full of shit,” Patrick groans.

Art sighs and realizes he just mindlessly put his palm on his cock because of how gravelly Patrick’s voice sounds. And fine. Patrick can make him crazy all the way in whatever fucking city hes in however many fucking miles he is away from Palo Alto.

“I’m sorry if I don’t know how to feel. I’ve never… I’d never done any of that before.” Art says quietly.

“And yet you practically begged for it in the morning.” Patrick says softly.

Art swallows thickly.

“I can’t get it out of my head.” Patrick continues. “The way you were rubbing against my dick before you even woke up properly. Fuck. I can’t get you out of my head.”

Art’s rubbing himself now. “I can’t either,” he sighs, he’s starting to lose it again. He feels silly. Too silly to care if Patrick can tell.

“Yeah?” Patrick sounds eager, breathy.

“It was… I still… I still feel it. Is that crazy?” Art says quietly.

Patrick takes a deep breath. “Fuck. You drive me so fucking insane. Are you fucking touching yourself?”

“’m sorry. I just…” Art says, closing his eyes. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Art knows he’s never gonna recover from this but right now it doesn’t matter. He would stop if he could but he can’t.

”You still feel me?”

“Mmhm.”

“Feel me stretching you? you’re so fucking tight I don’t even know if it’s all gonna fit,” Patrick says, his voice sounds like it did. When Arts eyes are closed it’s almost like he can feel Patrick’s breath on his skin.

“Ah—“ Art gasps, grabbing himself properly. “I like the stretch.”

“You love it.” Patrick says. “You don’t even want to wait. Don’t want me to take my time, you’re just so eager you’re pushing that pretty ass back on me.”

“Yeah,” Art gasps, he rolls onto his back and puts the phone on speaker, letting one leg fall open as he jerks himself. “It feels so good—when you fuck me. Its too much. Im too full please… please I don’t think I can take anymore.”

“Oh you fucking liar,” Patrick moans. “You can take it baby. I know you can. You’re a little cock slut already and its only your first time. Fuck. You’re so tight.”

”So tight,” Art says mindlessly as he tries to ease two fingers along his ass, the way Patrick had done before he entered. “I wanna… I want you to… I—I miss you.”

”I miss you too,” Patrick says. “If I was there I’d have you on all fours taking my dick all night.”

“Ah—mmh— Patrick I’m gonna— you’re gonna make me—“ Art cries. The fingers are enough… even dry.

“Come on, yeah… fucking come on my big fat dick sweetheart… come on.. nngh…” Patrick moans.

It’s enough. Hot strings of pearly white are suddenly spurting out of him and spilling everywhere, on his fingers and clothes. On the bedspread. He’s breathless, as his whole body goes lax.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck… I need to be in you again, gahhh..” Art can hear Patrick’s bed squeaking wherever he is and then he’s groaning loudly, and gasping through his own orgasm. “Oh god, oh shit… that was…”

“Yeah,” Art says breathlessly, looking up at the ceiling.

”Mm don’t fucking ignore me again,” Patrick says.

As relaxed as Art feels right now. Distantly, the pit in his stomach is returning. “Patrick… are we… I mean… are we still gonna be… friends?”

“Yeah of course,” Patrick says, easy. He yawns. “Always.”

Art feels tied up in knots but he can tell Patrick’s relaxed, sated, relieved even. If anything he’s going to be asleep in five minutes. No point getting any deeper now.

“You wanna fall asleep on the phone or—?” Patrick asks, yawning again.

“No it’s… it’s fine.” Art says. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Mmkay. Sweet dreams.”

Art bites his tongue to keep himself from saying something fucking stupid that he can’t take back. The line goes dead. Art stares at the ceiling for a minute, the three words he can’t say platonically to his best friend who he’s now fucking, are flitting about in his head. And Patrick wonders why he’s confused. He grabs his second pillow and pulls it over his face. He’s so fucked.

[shiny-kaibernyte]

Hey idk if you write for Grusha, but I really like the way you write! Could I ask for some relationship headcanons for Grusha with a Galarian s/o (who confessed to Grusha in true Galarian fashion, giving him an Applin.)? Its okay if not though :>

Are you kidding me! I love this so much! I have been WAITING for someone to request Grusha, so i thank you for this adorable request! To add an extra little bit of cuteness i am giving you a shiny Applin because he deserves it! I also sprinkled in some general head cannons in there.

No Warnings just fluff

Grusha Relationship Headcannons | Galarian Reader

Let’s get the Applin thing out the way first: When you presented the Applin to him, he was EXTREMELY confused, why are you giving him a grass/dragon Pokemon? But when he sees your flushed face looking away from him with your arms extended out to him with the little green Applin - The gears start turning.

Then it clicks, you are confessing to him! Finally remembering you are from Galar and not Paldea dude turns bright red. He’d read up on some of the Galarian customs to make you feel more at home in this new region and he did find out about the Applin confession. Though usually the Applin was red. Did you find a shiny one just for him?

This man is speechless, he literally cannot utter a word over his own shaking breath, But he will take the Applin once he’s back down on earth again. And he is not letting the lil guy go.

He is cold all of the time. Even when away from his gym, he is cold. It could be the middle of summer on a beach and he’s there in a winter coat, fuzzy hat and gloves. And yes, he has bought you both matching scarfs, even if you don’t wear it, if you just have it that's enough for him.

Speaking of matching scarfs, you also have matching gloves, hats, warmers, anything. For some reason he just loves matching with you. That reason? Because I said so. That being said he’s also an opposite kinda guy too. If he’s wearing white, you’re in black and vice versa. Essentially its: Colours = Matching, Shades = Opposites.

Will not take you snowboarding unless you practically beg him to take you, or you already did snowboarding or any other winter sports before meeting him. You getting hurt is the last thing he ever wants to happen, so expect him to dot on you alot.

Grusha worries about you ALL OF THE TIME. If you are not in the same room as him, he worries. He is by no means possessive of you, he just cares so much about you that he tends to come off as clingy.

PDA is a no to him. He does not like being touched in public, he can’t explain it, he will rub your arms if you get too cold or give you his scarf though so don’t worry about any cute form of affection like that. 

In private though, kisses, hugs, cuddles, dancing, laughing you name it. Privacy is his thing.

Speaking on privacy, your relationship didn’t get announced until you were closing in on your 1 year anniversary. Thanks to his fame as a gym leader and a snowboarder, his personal life is something he doesn’t get to have.

You are the only thing he has left to keep him grounded so please let him keep you to himself whilst he still can. Before the Media gets they’re grubby paws on you.

The first time he visits your home region is when your relationship goes public. Raihan ain’t about to let this go unposted!

Jealousy is a difficult thing for him. Not because it makes him difficult but because he doesn’t exactly… experience it. When Grusha sees you uncomfortable or someone invading your personal space, he doesn’t go into jealous boyfriend mode, he goes to protective boyfriend mode. Asking if you are okay, if you need anything, if you want to go somewhere, if you want him to leave ect ect. He may not even register that the other party is even there at all.

When he met Leon it was an… interesting experience to say the least. Leon legit spent the first hour of your meeting walking into everything because he was so busy asking Grusha questions about Paldea. Surprisingly enough, Leon is one of the few people from Galar he keeps in contact with. The others being Piers, Melony and Milo.

The only time he ever showed visible irritation was to Raihan. Leon’s questioning didn’t bother him at all, Raihan’s constant social presents however? That got under his skin.

If it wasn’t for the fact you were with him; when Raihan announced your relationship on live he almost punched him. Dude just revealed the most important detail of his personal life to most of the Galar region and new spreads FAST! Things are gonna boil up in him but, instead Grusha just gives him the cold shoulder for the rest of the trip's duration. They have made up since but he still won’t talk to Raihan unless he absolutely has to.

Sleep. He sleeps all the time. If he isn’t training, talking to the media, battling, or spending time with you. This man can be found sprawled out on his stomach, one arm under his head, the other dangling of the bed, legs in some kind of cross pose on the bed, hair a mess

He is an indoor person when it comes to personal time. Grusha spends so much of it outside; being able to lay back on the sofa with you encased in his arms, warming up by the fire is his ideal pass time. 

Cannot cook for anything. He will set the oven on fire and most likely burn his hands trying to put it out. Baking on the other hand now THAT is something he can do. Rika still hasn’t forgiven him for beating her at a gingerbread contest.

He didn’t confess first but he did say I love you first. This man didn;t even realise he had even said it, he was so in the zone just admiring what was happening and boom he said it and now he matches a cherish ball. 

Sleep schedule, what's that? Grusha sleep is completely random. He could be up at 4am and asleep at 12am: Or he's asleep by 10am and awake at 3am the next morning. Sometimes he sleeps for 3 hours, sometimes 15 hours. It's honestly a game trying to guess how long he’ll be out for.

With that said however, he is NEVER late to anything important. Whether that be a day out with you, a gym challenge, a meeting. Sometimes though, if he’s in a bad mood that day he will be late on purpose. 

Sour food is his enemy, his sour tolerance is in the negatives, he might actually die if you gave him toxic wastes so for your sake and his stomach please don’t. 

Hand kisser, that is how he greets you, says goodbye, randomly shows affection. Grusha will lift your hand up, lower his scarf if he’s wearing it and gently kiss the back of your hand then won’t say anything after.

Not a note leaver. If you are asleep and he needs to go, he is waking you up to tell you he is going and that he loves you. “No piece of paper is worthy of his love for you.” At least that's how Tulip put it.

Athletic as hell, he snowboards for Arceus sake! He’s gotta have some athletic ability. Grusha’s climbing ability is honestly scary. This man could give Sneasler a run for its money