#everything opens in fucking dashboard view

[charmedslayer]

noooooooooooooo it’s gone

the legacy editor for photo posts is gone >:(

[icewindandboringhorror]

examining a seemingly normal image only to slowly realize the clear signs of AI generated art.... i know what you are... you cannot hide your true nature from me... go back where you came from... out of my sight with haste, wretched and vile husk

[orcelito]

cool tumblr desktop has made it absolutely impossible to see url names in posts. love that. love having no idea what's going on in a post. :}

[yameoto]

need to get cate in the backseat. maybe she's a little pouty because a bed would be comfier, more room, but you know that's all for show. she loves it. loves kneeling on the floorboards for you, or seeing you down there for her. loves when the windows fog up because of her breathy whines. how her nails leave marks in the leather when she's using the seats for support so she can ride you properly <3

the type of girl to beg for road head in the middle of the highway. she bags shotgun in your car (always, obviously), and you’re stuck in the middle of a traffic jam and she’s so impatient. grumbling n grousing and rubbing her thighs together like “come on, you have nothing better to do.” “it’s not even moving.” “baby. please?” until she finally silences after your nth protest. blissfully so. until the silence turns to shuffling. to panting, and when you glance over cate has her hand down her zipper and desperately rubbing against the damp seat of her panties. completely fucking shameless. that’s what tinted windows are for, right?

“cate. oh my god.”

“what?” and she doesn’t mean to sound so whiny, really. but what good girlfriend doesn’t drop everything to cater to her insatiable libido? “you weren’t—ah—gonna do anything.”

tapping against the wheel, because god. you can smell it. the heady scent of her leaking cunt, filling the front seat of the car as she gasps. it’s worse when the car starts moving. bumps in the road making her gasp as she ruts against the leather seat. you just have to listen, agonisingly so, as your hands clench against the wheel and cate plunges her fingers into her pussy. forced to watch out of the corner of your eye as cate fucks herself stupid. she’s being loud on purpose. neck falling back and plush lips all glossy. car swerving when she moans your fucking name, loud and so obscene, and didn’t anyone tell her not to distract the driver?

red light, and cate takes the opportunity to prop her leg up on the dashboard. lithe fingers spreading her cunt wide open, sinking four fingers knuckle-deep in the other. can see it in the front view mirror, angled-down, and you know the little shit planned this. can’t find it in yourself to be mad. not when she releases a shaky croon and squirts all over your front seats; splattering against your dashboard, the seat. defies the limits of science as droplets land on the front window, her slippery hand leaving wet marks, scrabbling against at the side of the car. you can hear the sound of her cunt squelching against leather. it’s killing you.

her dazed smirk when the car behind you honks, jolting you out of your reverie; and you realise the lights changed twenty seconds ago. swearing, heat thumping and blood roaring between your ears when you finally pull the fuck over. slamming the seats down and backing her, sprawled into the backseats. oh, you’ll wipe that goddamn smile off her face, alright.

[moonstruckme]

obsessed with the idea of driving lessons with Steve or Eddie<3 in Stevie’s car orrr in Eddie’s van! reader being a terrible driver and steve or eddie being to nice to call it out :’)

Thanks for requesting!

Eddie Munson x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You think you’d feel a bit better if Eddie didn’t keep squeezing his eyes shut. He’d been the one to make the call that you were ready for the highway, promising you a million times that it’d be fine despite your apprehension, but as soon as you’d gotten on the entrance ramp his confidence had seemed to flee him—which isn’t ideal, because he was the only one of you that had any to begin with. 

“Eddie.” Your voice pitches, knuckles white on the steering wheel. “The car behind me is getting really close.” 

“He’ll go around us,” your boyfriend says without opening his eyes. He takes a breath, cracks an eyelid. “You’ve got it, you’re good. We’re all good. Everything is fine and dandy.” 

You wonder how much of this is for you. 

You stay there for a while, eyes volleying between your mirrors and the speedometer, until you come upon a car in front of you that can’t be going more than forty. You take your foot off the gas, coasting down to its speed.  

“Go around him,” Eddie instructs.

You glance into the next lane, just as a car whooshes past your window. “I can’t,” you say, voice going high. 

“You can do it,” he says, though his hand curls around the handlebar above his window. “Just look for an opening, speed up, and change lanes.” 

You take a few quick breaths before pushing down on the gas, head whipping around to check your blind spot before you signal and move over. Another car tries to switch lanes at the same time, blaring their horn at you, and you shriek and swerve back into your lane, slamming on the brakes to avoid rear-ending the slow car in front of you. 

“Jesus Hendrix Christ,” Eddie hisses. Then, with more pep, “Doing great, baby!” 

“I can’t do this!” 

“You don’t really have a choice at this point!” 

“What?” 

“I mean, yeah you can!” Your boyfriend’s nearly wheezing, head on a swivel as he keeps track of the cars around you. “You’re doing awesome.”

“I almost hit someone!” you remind him, voice starting to waver as panicked tears clog your throat. 

“Not your fault.” His hand wraps around your thigh, squeezing so the cool metal of his rings bites into your skin. “He didn’t see you either, he was just being a dick about it. You acted fast, which—which is the best thing you could’ve done.” 

Your lip wobbles. “Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure as shit, baby. Take a breath, okay? Panicking makes you a bad driver.” 

“Pretty sure I already am a bad driver,” you say, but do your best to fill your lungs anyway. 

“Nah, you’re the best I know.” Eddie’s hand rubs your thigh soothingly, at odds with the tension in his voice. “Not including myself, obviously. But it’s fine, you’re learning.” 

You want desperately to take his hand but can’t risk taking one off the wheel. You glance in your rear view mirror, watching cars go around you and the clunker barely trudging along in front of you. 

You chew your lip. “Can we be done? I want to get off.” 

You think you hear a relieved sigh. “Sure, if that’s what you want,” he says. “Take this next exit.” 

Eddie talks you through decelerating back onto the frontage road, helping you change lanes until you start to slow down in the shoulder. 

“Don’t pull over here,” he tells you. “There’s a parking lot just after this light.” 

You shake your head. “Nope, I’m done. I’m pulling over.” 

“But you can’t just—wait, you’ve gotta—” Eddie grimaces as the car tilts, one wheel going up onto the curb. “Okay. Okay, good job.” 

“Fuck.” You heave a sigh and move the gearshift while your boyfriend bends to kiss the dashboard, murmuring apologies to his van. “I think I need to start driving in something else, Eds. This van is too hard to learn in.” 

“Hey, don’t talk about her like that.” He caresses the dashboard lovingly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, you were…you had a learning experience. Plus, once you can drive her, you can drive anything.” 

“I don’t know.” You lift your foot from the brake, moving to hug your knee to your chest. “I think maybe—” 

“Shit,” Eddie says as the van starts to roll backward. “Shit, shit, baby, the gearshift!” 

You gasp, setting your foot back on the brake so Eddie can shift the van into park. 

“Oh my god.” You drop your head into your hands, breathing heavily. “I can’t even park!” 

“It’s—” Eddie’s voice is high, but he clears his throat. “It’s okay, that could happen to anyone. Reverse is, like, right next to park, so…it’s an easy mistake, I guess.” 

“I don’t want to drive anymore,” you groan. 

“Hey,” he says. “Hey, come here.” 

He reaches over and starts to grab for you, but you stop him, lifting your foot from the brake hesitantly. Eddie does you the courtesy of not making fun of you, and when the van doesn’t move you clamber into his lap, setting your chin on his shoulder while his big palms rove your back. 

“You’re not so bad,” he says, hair tickling your face as he tilts his head to accommodate you. “It just takes practice. Same for everybody. You want to be able to drive yourself around someday, right?” 

You make a noncommittal sound. “Maybe you can just take me wherever I need to go.” 

Eddie laughs, hand sliding down your back to pinch your waist. “I’m not available for a cab service at the moment, sweet thing.” 

“Mean.” 

“You like it when I’m mean to you,” he reminds you. 

You wonder if he can feel your cheek heating against his neck. “Only sometimes.” 

He huffs amusedly. Wraps a hand around either side of your rib cage, easing you back until he can see you. “You’ll get there,” he says. “We’ve just gotta keep practicing.” 

You gnaw on your lip, exhaling through your nose. “Yeah, okay. But can we stay on the ground for now? I don’t think I’m ready for the highway.” 

The humor saps from Eddie’s expression. “Yeah,” he agrees, “no more highways for a while.”

[wheels-of-despair]

The Devil's Trip Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Eddie and Evil Woman embark on an epic spring break road trip… in which everything goes wrong. Contains: Good tunes, snacks, a cooler full of drinks, the open road… also traffic, poor planning, a heroic Hopper rescue, bad food, accidental injury, blood, spring break just not going like it should. Words: 3.3k

"Music?"

"Check!" You shake the shoebox full of cassettes in your lap.

"Snacks?"

You reach back and rattle a bag full of snacks. "Check!" There's also a cooler full of soda and stuff to make sandwiches.

"Kiss?"

"Wayne's still up, you've got time to run back in if you want to."

"UGH, get out of my van," Eddie groans. You laugh and lean over for the pre-road trip kiss.

"Check," you whisper against his lips before straightening.

"Alright, let's blow this popsicle stand."

Eddie turns the key and his van roars to life, sending a few stray cats scattering in the morning sun. He reverses out of his spot in front of the trailer. When he puts the van in gear and it lurches forward, you remove the correct tape from its case. Eddie stops at the edge of the trailer park to check for traffic on the main road, and you slip Road Trip Mix #1 into the tape player.

He waits for Ozzy to shout "All aboard!" before gunning it and hitting the highway.

You're kicking off your spring break by going to a music festival in Illinois. Just you and Eddie and an epic road trip and two days of up-and-coming bands. You've got three new rolls of film and plan to fully document every memorable moment. Rest stops, cheesy roadside attractions, sleeping in the van, the concert stage. You've been planning your escape from Hawkins for weeks.

Two songs into Road Trip Mix #1 later, a look of concentration settles on Eddie's face. The "Leaving Hawkins" sign comes into view. You both wait until the exact moment you pass before yelling "FUCK YOU, HAWKINS!" The first time he did it, it scared the crap out of you. Now you yell with him.

You grin at each other and face the road… seconds later, the van shudders. Eddie's brow furrows, and his eyes dart between the needles on the dashboard.

"The fuck?" you ask.

The van shudders again, and the engine sputters and dies. Eddie curses and coasts to the side of the road. When the van comes to a stop, he sighs and turns to you slowly.

"Gas?" he asks, one eye scrunched.

"Shit."

You stare at each other for a second, and then burst into laughter.

"Well, we're off to a great start," Eddie laughs.

"How the fuck did you forget to get gas?!" you ask.

"I meant to do it last night… but someone had her hand creeping up my thigh on the way home, and it distracted me."

"That slut," you deadpan. "Tell me who she is, I'll kill her."

Eddie grins. "Uh, there's a station about a mile back, they probably have a spare gas can for emergencies such as these… rock, paper, scissors?"

You glare.

"Orrrr I could go get it and you could stay out here… by yourself… on the side of the road… all alone…" He bats his eyelashes.

"What are we waiting for?" you ask, opening your door and sliding down to the ground. You reach up to lock it, slam it, and meet Eddie at the rear doors.

You walk in silence for a few minutes, then Eddie asks, "Wanna play a game?"

"Is it called Guess Who Forgot to Get Gas?" you tease.

You take another few steps, notice he's no longer beside you, and turn back to see why. He grins and takes a leap at you, attaching himself to your back.

"Oof!" you grunt. "What are you doing, moron?"

"I'm gonna have to carry a gas can back, so you're gonna have to carry me to the gas station."

"That does not seem at all like a fair trade," you grumble, but try to keep walking. You stagger a few steps under his weight, waiting for him to take pity on you and hop off, but he does not.

Until a siren chirps.

Eddie lets you go and hops to the ground, and you both turn to see Chief Hopper leaning out of his Blazer's open window and looking unamused.

"I don't know what you're doing, I don't want to know what you're doing, I just need to know if you require my assistance in a professional capacity."

You glance toward Eddie, entirely unsure if he's going to play with Hopper or be serious for once in his life.

"Van ran out of gas, so I tried to hitch a different ride. But she ran out too." You elbow him, and he grins.

Chief Hopper sighs and hangs his head. "Get in, delinquents."

"Can I sit in the front this time?" Eddie asks excitedly.

"No!" Hopper barks.

Eddie laughs and crosses the road to open the door for you. You slide in, and Eddie slides in behind you. He laces his fingers behind his head and stretches out, making himself comfortable in Hopper's back seat.

"Where you kids headed?"

"…the gas station?" Eddie says like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Where were you going before you ran out of gas, smart-ass?"

You stifle a laugh and Eddie grins. "A music festival in Illinois."

Hopper makes eye contact with you in his rearview mirror. "Your mom know where you're going and who you're with?"

"Yes," you answer simply.

He studies you in the mirror for a second before returning his attention to the road.

"What, she says one word and you believe her?" Eddie asks incredulously. "We go way back, Hop! You grill me ALL the time!"

"She's got an honest face. You look like a gremlin."

You snort, and Eddie's jaw drops.

Before he can formulate a snappy response, Hopper pulls his Blazer into the gas station. He takes his time getting out and walking around the back to extract his gas can. Finally, he opens Eddie's door and hands it to him. Eddie hops out and takes the can to fill it, and you're left alone with the police chief.

He hovers outside the open back door, blocking your way out. You're a little nervous… until he speaks.

"He being a gentleman?"

"He tries," you smile. Hopper comes off as gruff, but you know there's kindness underneath it. Otherwise, you'd probably be writing Eddie letters in jail.

"Your mom really know where you're going?"

You nod. "She even gave me a new roll of film and told me to bring her back a souvenir."

Hopper nods his head in approval.

"I'm glad he's got somebody," he says lowly. "You're keeping him outta my hair."

"If you miss him, I can set him loose every once in a while," you grin. "I don't think he's been properly chased away from the water tower in ages."

Hopper laughs. "Nope, all yours."

Eddie announces his presence with a grunt, heaving the full gas can into the back of the Blazer.

"Filled, paid, it'll get us a ways."

"You're gonna stop and fill up before you get back to empty, right?" Hopper asks, glaring down at Eddie as he squeezes back into the truck.

"Yes, Mom," Eddie grins.

Hopper rolls his eyes and slams the door. He gets into the driver's seat and takes you back to the van quickly, but doesn't let you out right away.

"Illinois cops aren't as nice as I am, Munson."

"I knew you had a soft spot for me," Eddie grins.

"I mean it," he says, turning in his seat to face the two of you. "You screw up outside of Hawkins, and I'm not gonna be there to give you a lecture and send you home."

You look nervously between them. How much trouble has Eddie gotten into?

"We'll be fine, Hop," Eddie says boredly.

"Are there any illegal substances in your van?"

"If there were, would I tell the Chief of Police?"

Hopper growls and turns his attention to you. "You gonna keep him out of trouble?"

"It's a rough job, but somebody's gotta do it," you smile, glancing over at Eddie.

"You both realize I'm a legal adult, right?" he scoffs.

"Could've fooled me," you and Hopper say together. Eddie rolls his eyes. Hopper laughs and gets out to open the rear door. You hop out, Eddie retrieves the fuel and empties it into the van's gas tank, and hands the empty vessel to Hopper.

"Have fun, behave, watch that gas hand, do not take any illegal substances across state lines, et cetera."

Eddie puffs out his chest and salutes, and Hopper gives him a shove toward the van. You smile and wave. Hopper puts his gas can back in the truck, waits until Eddie gets the van started, and heads back toward Hawkins.

"Alright, take two!" Eddie says as he pulls back onto the road. It was a little quieter this time; you were a little paranoid about getting busted with substances that may or may not be in the van, and a little stressed from barely making it out of Hawkins before the first sign of trouble. It's only a hiccup, you told yourself, just to keep you on your toes for the rest of the trip.

You made it a few minutes down the winding road before running into a long line of stopped traffic. You couldn't see far enough ahead to figure out what was wrong, but after what felt like an hour of waiting, traffic finally began to crawl through. A car lay upside down in a ditch. Tire marks on the road. A crew sweeping up glass in the other lane.

"You okay?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah," you whisper.

"It's a bad curve," he explains. "Not the first time."

It's also not the first time you've been through here with him at breakneck speeds. He reaches over and puts a hand on your thigh as the long line of traffic slowly proceeds.

Eddie pulls off at the next gas station, to let the traffic thin out and properly fuel up the van. You take the opportunity to stretch your legs by walking through the store and looking for snacks you don't already have.

You spot a clearance rack full of off-brand chips you've never tried before, for only ten cents a bag. You grab one of each flavor and bring them to the register at the same time Eddie comes in to pay for his fuel.

Eddie pays, the cashier stuffs your chips in a plastic bag, and you head back out. The traffic is still moving slowly.

"Wanna hang here until traffic starts moving again?" he suggests.

"Sure," you smile. "We can sample our chips and see if it's worth going back in for more." Eddie moves the van from a pump to a parking spot, and comes to join you atop the rotting picnic table in the grass beside the store. He plops down two drink cans from the cooler, and you lay out your different chip options.

"Six flavors," you announce. "What do we want to sample first?"

"Hmmmmm… this one." Eddie picks up a red bag with flames coming off of the text. Of course. He rips open the top of the bag and offers it to you. You pull out one very threatening-looking red chip. Eddie extracts one too. You gently tap them together in a super classy gas station potato chip toast, and pop them in your mouths.

When the heat hits you, you spit it out. Eddie lasts a few seconds longer, but spits his out too. You both pop open your cans and guzzle, hoping the cold liquid will put the fire out and mask the awful taste.

"Okay, fuck THOSE," Eddie says, setting that bag aside. "You pick next."

You select the cheesy ones, hoping they'll be mild. You open the bag, and you each pull out a chip.

Eddie sniffs it. "This smells like feet."

"Yours, or a normal person's?"

He throws his chip at you and has to pick another.

You skip the toast, but both bite down at the same time.

Not good, but not so bad that you have to spit it out. You repeat the process with barbecue, salt and vinegar, sour cream and onion, and plain. Neither of you eats more than one chip out of each bag.

"Did all of those suck, or did the first one just burn our taste buds off?" you ask after you drain the last of your soda.

"Kinda wish it HAD burned my taste buds off," he says, looking warily at the six almost-full bags of chips. "What are we gonna do with those?"

You look disdainfully at the awful snacks. "Take 'em home and give 'em to the boys for the next movie night. Tell 'em we had to sample each bag and make sure they were suitable for nerd consumption."

Eddie laughs and shoves the chips back in the shopping bag. You tie it - because surely staleness wouldn't improve the flavor - and hold it up to give it a spin.

"There we go," you smirk. "A heartfelt gift for our dear friends." Eddie snorts.

"Looks like traffic's moving quicker," he notes. "Wanna get back to it?"

"Let's roll," you nod, rising from the picnic table with the bag full of awful chips. Eddie hops off of the table and lands with a hiss. You whip around at the sound.

He's holding his hand in a fist. You step closer and uncurl it to see what's wrong. The table gave him a splinter.

"I've got tweezers in my emergency bag, c'mon, I'll fix you up." You pick up your empty cans and toss them in a nearby trash can, crawl into the back of the van, and start digging. Eddie sits on the floor by the back door until you locate your emergency supplies.

"Damn, is there anything you're NOT prepared for?" he teases when he sees the packed box.

"Nope," you answer, dabbing alcohol on his hand. He hisses again. You make quick work of the splinter extraction and bandaging. You lean down and kiss the bandage when you're done, before he can even pout and ask you to kiss it and make it better. He smiles when you sit back up.

Three minutes later, you're on the road again, and it's time for a new tape. You pop out Road Trip Mix #1 and swap it for #2.

"Damn, we make a good mix tape," Eddie remarks.

"Mix tapes," you correct. "There are six of them."

"And each one is better than the last," he says, reaching forward to turn up the volume…

The knob comes off in his hand.

"Shit."

"Give it here," you say loudly, so he can hear you over the deafening screams of Judas Priest. You hold out your hand, and he drops the knob into it. You lean in close and try to figure out how it goes back on so you can turn it the hell down. You've nearly got it when a blinding pain shoots through your head.

"Shit, fuck, I'm sorry!"

You don't know what's going on. You're seeing spots, your head is killing you, and there's… blood? On your shirt?

Eddie's hand reaches out to grab you and keep you from lurching forward with the van when it comes to an abrupt stop on the side of the road.

"Fuck, fuck, look at me," he says hurriedly. You're still transfixed by the blood dripping on your shirt. Suddenly, everything goes quiet. You look up in surprise, but it's just because he's turned the van off and the music isn't blaring anymore. His eyes widen.

"Are you okay?"

"I… don't know?"

"A fucking cat ran out in front of me and I hit the brakes so I wouldn't hit it and you hit your face on the dash," he explains hurriedly.

You take a second to process it.

He reaches into the back and grabs a spare hoodie. "Here, he says, lifting a sleeve to dab at the blood that had spurted from your nose. You laugh at the absurdity of it all. This is the trip from Hell.

"Ow!" you screech when he touches a sensitive spot, done with your laughing.

"Sorry! Fuck, I'm so sorry."

You take the hoodie from him and mop up the rest of the blood. Good thing it's black.

"You starting to think maybe this trip is cursed?" you ask, muffled through the hoodie.

Eddie sighs.

"You wanna go home?"

You shrug. You don't want to ruin his trip. You know how much he's been looking forward to this. You'll stick it out with him.

"Let me see you," he says, reaching for the fabric hiding half of your face. He removes it, and his eyes widen. "Yeah, we're going home."

"Eddie, you don't have to--"

"Shut up," he orders, getting out of his seat to dig in the back. He comes back into view holding a cold can of soda, which he wraps in the hoodie. "For your face," he says, offering it to you.

"That bad, huh?" You smile, which is a mistake. "Ow."

"Buckle up, relax, this hell-trip will be over soon."

He searches the floorboard until he locates the volume knob, twists it back on, and immediately brings the noise down when the van starts up again.

Eddie waits for a break in traffic and turns around in the middle of the road. Once you're headed toward home again, you lean back in your seat, hold the cold can up to your face, and stare out the window over top of it.

The first sign you see is the one stating that Hawkins is six miles away. You start laughing.

"…are you okay?"

You laugh harder.

"Shit, do I need to take you to a hospital?"

"No," you wheeze, "this trip really is cursed."

He looks at you like you've grown another head.

"Think about it," you chuckle. "We made six mix tapes. We bought six awful bags of chips. And we made it a whole six miles outside of Hawkins Fucking Indiana."

As if on cue, "The Number of the Beast" starts playing. You look at each other and lose it. You cackle until your sides ache and your face aches more before.

"Ow," you whine, trying to focus on the road and stop laughing. When your body finally stops shaking, you sink into your seat and close your eyes.

"Best trip ever," you mumble.

You hear him chuckle.

"Babe?" Eddie asks after a moment of silence. You open your eyes. You're passing the Welcome to Hawkins sign. "You wanna go to my place or yours?"

"How bad do I look?" you ask, turning to face him. He grimaces. You lean your head back against the headrest and close your eyes again. "Take me wherever the adult on duty is less likely to beat your ass for doing this to me."

"…kind of a toss-up," he laughs quietly. "Which bed do you like better, mine or yours?"

"Don't care, as long as you're in it."

"You know… we've got lots of supplies… mattress in the back… we could just park in the woods by Lover's Lake for a few days."

You consider it while he drives.

"Eddie?"

"Yeah, babe?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

"I wasn't done."

"…okay?"

"I love you, but I'm not peeing in the woods for a week."

He snorts and puts on his turn signal.

Taking an epic road trip and camping out in a field in Illinois with a bunch of kick-ass bands you'd never heard before was a nice idea.

But hanging out in your basement and listening to Corroded Coffin practice the same songs as always wasn't bad either.

[lagncx]

Don’t be afraid of the lightning, it cannot get through me to get to you.

Inspired by Ethel Cain.!!! Karl x reader

Gn reader if it says a gender word my bad.

For @nonchalantgat0 ^^

—-

He was free so why the fuck did he feel so trapped?

You and Heisenberg met when you fell at his feet after running from lycans. Your front tooth chipped on the edge of his boots you could have sworn.

“The hell you come from?” You looked up at him, your jaw vibrating from the initial bump and you smiled. He was jaw-dropping in a…weird way. You ended up telling him who you were and that you were from outside the area pointing at your shoes while crying.

—---

You cried as you pointed at your own boots now completely fucked. “You wouldnt believe this i fucking fell look at my timbs! You know how much these cost?” You sighed “I got chased by some crazy mountain man growling and barking behind me and I lost my damn footing.” the man just chuckled “Sounds like a day.” He smirked at you his glasses hiding his eyes his head dropped to its side head looking up and down at you. You smiled at him, the small chip in your tooth making the air you breathed in whistle in a cute dorky way. You were a dork. So you looked smitten “Uh yea…it was a long day babe- uh today today.”

——

After that you were stuck like glue but he got out of the village with help from Ethan and Chris ... .even the duke though Karl wouldn’t admit it. Things have changed. Everything is…different from the town so you stayed home with him for weeks before taking him out.

——-

The ride to the new home is far from the village thank god. It was long before you had to explain everything about a vehicle to him. The packing was short, not many things filled the trunk except scrap…lots of it.

Need to keep my hands busy…please.

You cursed at yourself falling for his silver puppy eyes and his manly toolkit that you put a sticker on from an old concert you went to. He was busy bending something before putting it on the dashboard.

You sighed, banging your head on the wheel for a second while driving in the dark, making sure to follow the road and fence while surrounded in darkness. “Okay guess.” He said “Karl-“ he shushed you and pointed at it “guess.” You sighed and looked at it squinting and flicking your view to the road and back. “Is it….a bear?” He shook his head “Nope.” You sighed “Is it a…badger?” Picking it up with one hand on the wheel. “That’s two guesses..one more you're out.” He hummed holding the animal magazine close to his chest “Uhm-…It’s a panda!” You smiled knowing you were right “Boom 3 to me. 1.5 to Karl!” He laughed and shook his head “Nope. It’s a red panda” Your mouth dropped open looking at him then the road “The hell?! What’s the fucking difference?” You only sighed in defeat when he showed you the page with the red panda page. “Okay, I’m done with this damn game.” He only laughed and threw the magazine behind him before messing with the passenger window, rolling it down and up “Karl…” down, the sound of the window was becoming a little irritating. He stopped. “What if I can’t adapt to this…modern world?”

——-

That question he asked you laughed at dismissing it as just jitters but he couldn’t get the hang of life here. Away from the village not able to use his powers it almost was like an itch the way he couldn’t really…use them like it was wrong but being with you in that little starter house it was. Everything but nothing felt good except you. You were safe and made him feel safe. Hugged him even when he fought it, kissed away his tears through the rough nights. Settling in was hard. You kept him in the house for three weeks like when a new cat hides under the bed when put into a new environment.

First experience was shopping for clothes and food. He stuck close to you looking at all of the other men dressed in either graphic tees or plain sweaters. He cleared his throat. Obviously feeling self-conscious. The loud noises and the sound of carts pushing were a bit overwhelming being around so many different people…so many people, normal something he’ll never be again. His fist clenched the tip of his gloved fingers brushing against the seam on the side of the palm.

You didn’t realize how bad it actually fucking was.

There was a sound of a baby crying two rows down? What really got him was the banging the baby did on the shopping cart like it vibrated his bones he felt the checkouts being used every beep every electric current. He had leaned against you making you grunt from his weight “Karl? What’s up?” You asked. He whispered “Can we go?” You sighed “Karl we need food and clothes for you.” You continued down the aisle.

The Music playing on the grocery store's speakers suddenly slowed and went down in pitch, the buzzing of the freezer lights became louder like a swarm of bees. You looked around and then looked at Heisenberg “Karl, stop.” He wasn’t looking at you he was looking down at the floor which started to shake. You looked behind him eyes widening in fear at the large metal shelf frames that held the heavy stuff, sand, fire wood, beer.

Everything. Now You knew it was serious, he wasn’t supposed to use his powers, Chris threatened you both. “Help.” The faintest whisper came from your lover, he was overstimulated, and anxious. You immediately pulled him out and to the car the emergency alarms buzzing through the parking lot.

Getting into the car you both sat in the back lucky for you, you got tints. You took off his jacket, his breathing was erratic, uneven. You took off his hat and glasses. His eyes were watery but he couldn’t look at you, he was embarrassed of himself. “Karl, my love. You’re okay.” You whispered and you grabbed his arm putting his hand on the back of your hair feeling his fingers tangle into it “There we go, what’s wrong baby?” You whispered leaning close.

Karl swallowed “It’s her fault.” He said “She turned me into this, now I’ll never be normal, or happy.” He sobbed, hiding his tears from you leaning into your chest. You took a deep breath, Karl had electrified organs, stopped him from having kids too. But you weren’t gonna let something stop him.

You hummed softly over the noise. The engines that he could feel through the stores the machines the landlines the phone towers, fuck the noise. The car alarms blaring were no match to your voice. You sang to him his breathing slowed and he felt himself being pulled back. Back before Miranda. Before you.

—-

Karl crawled into his moms lap, tears streaming down his face he pointed to a scar on his arm and his mom comforted him kissing his face and his arm she smiled and showed him one of her scars and in German she whispered to him “Scars make you strong Karl, everyone is a journey and lesson. They hurt but don’t worry I’ll always be here to kiss away the pain.” She laughed nuzzling him.

——

Karl breathing hitched as he smiled thinking about his mother, though she wasn’t here. She kept her promise. Someone was here to kiss the pain away. He knew she’d approve.

You both stayed like this for hours, the alarms stopping.

You made the call to move to the countryside less stimulating. Heisenberg sat in the passenger seat reading a book about world history.

The radio cut “Hello to everyone! Thanks for tuning in on 98.6 for you we have Ethel Cain- Family Tree! Enjoy your cruising stay safe and weird.” Heisenberg looked down at the radio using his powers to turn up the volume slightly. “Who’s this?” He asked looking at you as you chewed on one of his cigars to keep yourself busy while you fixed your tank top “Ethel Cain, sorta a southern gothic type.” You hummed “Don’t listen to her much.” You shrugged, he nodded, he looked around a smell hitting him “What. The. Fuck. Is that fucking shitty ass fuck smell.” You laughed rolling down the windows making it stronger “Probably fertilizer or a cow herd nearby.”

And sure enough Karl looked over seeing the cows spread around the mountain clearing grazing. Watching a baby calf run across the golden brown grass field. He smiled. This was better than the city. “Sorry we have to live over here.” He frowned. “Oh please, my parents are from this side, they’ll let us live in one of their houses.” He blinked “are they rich?” You shook your head “Nah, just…they always wanted me out of the city.” You shrugged the climax of Family tree hit and Heisenberg liked it more than he would’ve thought “Can we see her live?” You laughed “Yea Karl, next time she goes on tour I promise.” You had promised to take him to every concert ever. You promised him the world and you were gonna give it to him.

You pushed something in your pockets down, two thick silver rings. For later…way later. You looked to your left, slowing down “Karl…Heisenberg.” You said making him whip his head to glare at you “Don’t call me th-“ you jerked your thumb to the running majestic animal. You laughed and said “horse.”

The animal's hair whipped like the long grass in the wind. that made him crawl over the middle console to your window making the car swerve slightly.

Heisenberg knew he’d love it even more. This was good, better. Mom always said things will always get better even when it’s low.

——

This is to suffice for like idk. The unfinished stuff.

[ransprang]

Vi + piss kink

Kinktober 2023

Vi - Piss Kink

You and Vi were on a 3-day, 2-night trip to Cameron Highlands in Malaysia. It was your turn to drive, and Vi was lost in her thoughts, gazing out the window. There was not a tandas in sight. You had been driving for the past hour, your eyes slowly closing due to the monotonous drive. Vi looked at you with a slight smile, but you noticed her wrinkled forehead, paying it no mind.

"I actually quite like the rubber trees on the side; it's quite peaceful to be amongst tropical nature," you said.

"I like being here with you, all alone in a new country," Vi replied.

You smiled back as you switched gears, bringing your focus back onto the road. Vi returned her gaze to the scenery but you noticed her thighs tense up as she began to squirm in her seat. You tried to put it out of your mind, but the hours rolled by, and Vi's squirming had only multiplied as she drummed her fingers on the dashboard.

"What's wrong?" You finally asked, reducing the volume on the radio, which was currently blaring the song 'Highway to Hell'. "Nothing, cupcake. Can we stop at the nearest rest stop? I just need to use the toilet." "Oh," your cheeks colored. "I think we passed the last one 15 minutes ago. There won't be one for at least an hour now." Vi's fingers stopped drumming. "Oh, fuck it, I can't hold it in that long. I'll just go behind a tree or something. Pull over whenever you can." You nodded tightly, your blush refusing to leave your face. "Why do you look so red, cupcake?" Vi asked. "Nothing, it just seems like such a waste," you gave her a meaningful glance, shyly shifting your gaze from the road to Vi's face. A look of understanding crossed her eyes, and her lips immediately quirked in a sly grin. "Is that so?" she replied speculatively. You pursed your lips in excitement.

You reduced your speed, wanting to drag out this journey even longer to watch Vi squirm. She always teased you; today was your turn. Vi had dangerously let loose of her seatbelt and began rubbing her thighs together, arching her back. You couldn't help but stare at her sexy posture as her chest jutted out with each arch, and those thick, muscular thighs slapped against one another. She was biting her lower lip in desperation, in pain. She needed to relieve herself.

Eventually, you spotted a place to stop the car and accompanied Vi into the forest. You could see her straining to hold it in, her flushed skin almost matching the colour of her hair. She turned towards you, her eyes bright and intense, "I really need to go, y/n".

"Please not yet, Vi," you begged her, as you kissed her pushing your body against hers, creating pressure on her stomach, pinning her against a tree. Your nimble fingers made quick work of her clothes and you slid your fingers into her warm folds. You reveled in the slow, rhythmic movement of Vi’s hips as she ground down on your fingers. She deepened the kiss as you increased the pace when suddenly Vi pulled away and whispered, "I can’t hold it in anymore."

Wordlessly you knelt before her, admiring the view as she took off all her clothes instead of just her shorts revealing everything, out in the open in the forest. Any trekker could have seen this sexy woman pissing. She got close to you, her pussy towering above you, close to your face as she released.

Vi’s eyes rolled back from relief as the warm liquid rolled down your face through your t-shirt onto your chest, beads rolling down to your own nethers. You felt so turned on, Vi fingered herself through her orgasm as she peed all over you. You slipped one hand down your own panties, you were already on the verge so it didn’t take long for you to orgasm as well. You both came behind the tree, letting out moans.

When she was done she stepped away, leaning against the tree, and pulled you by the hand towards her. She kissed you tenderly, and whispered, “Good girl,” in your ear. Just at that moment, you heard the rustling of leaves prompting you two to wear your clothes immediately and rush back to the car. Vi reached out to a big water bottle and poured it on you to clean up before getting back in to drive. She proceeded to chug the rest of the bottle, leaving you shocked. She chucked with an evil look in her eyes and sat back in for the next leg of the journey.

your piss,

admins sav & san

[bijouxcarys]

𝐓𝐨 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐒𝐨 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 (𝐑𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧)

Masterlist

Robert Plant x fem!OC

Description: Sometimes the pain of what should have never been, opens your eyes to what can be.

Tags: @celestial-dragoness @whothefuckisanja @callmethehunter @ourshadowstallerthanoursoul @strsmn @firethatgrewsolow @chromations @brownskinsugarplum76 @angrychicksposts (if you'd like to be added, just let me know!)

Elena practically flew forwards, her hand only just managing to stop the rest of her from slamming into the dashboard. She blinked once and slowly looked to her right.

“Are you joking?” she asked monotonously. “What the fuck was that?!”

“Don’t blame me, blame the fucking pigeon on the road!” John pointed ahead of him, one hand gripping onto the steering wheel. Elena followed his pointed finger and sighed.

“Bon…” she began. “That’s a fucking badger.”

“Huh?” He squinted, struggling to see a thing through the persistent sun. “Gah!” he grunted, waving his hand relatively in the same direction of the sun as he started the car up again, continuing their drive. “El, will you pass me my sunnies from my bag?”

Elena looked at John as if he was speaking an unfounded language. “You’re such a diva now,” she huffed, but smirked to let him know she wasn’t serious. Though she was certain he knew her enough to know she could never be snarky to him. 

With an exaggerated sigh, she turned and stretched over in between the two car seats, reaching for John’s bag. She pulled it over to her and got to unzipping it, just as he made quite a sharp turn, causing her to fall sideways into him.

“My God, get your arse out of my face.”

“Stop making stupid driving decisions, then!”

“Why don’t you bloody drive? You’re old enough now.”

“I’ll end up killing someone, mate.” Elena rummaged through his bag, looking for his sunglasses. She snorted when she came across handfuls upon handfuls of spare drumsticks. “You got enough sticks in here, Bon-Bon?” she asked rhetorically, finally finding his sunglasses and retrieving them.

“Here y’are,” she plopped back down into the passenger seat, holding the shades out for John. 

“Cheers,” he thanked her, clumsily putting them on his face with one hand, poking his eye in the process. “We’re almost there, by the way.”

Elena nodded, taking in the more urban character of their surroundings. It was a contrast to where she and John had grown up and spent most of their time. Sure, they weren’t all the way out in the countryside, but everything was within walking distance from each other. The closer into Birmingham you got, the more bus stops and taxi ports came into view, and the more reclusive passers-by seemed to be.

John had learned the ins and outs of Birmingham for the most part, ever since he started to pursue drumming full time and had to make these journeys in and out of the city. His recent endeavour, a band eccentrically named Crawling King Snakes, had inspired new confidence in him. The colourful landscape of musicians he had come across had never been more vibrant than the one he found himself in the middle of now. More than anything, hope was peeking over the horizon.

“So, what should I expect from your new bandmates?” Elena asked, resting her legs on the dashboard and tracing her finger across the grooves on her brown corduroy trousers.

“Nothing too crazy. Expect a lot of Welsh from Dave. Paul’s quiet… Dunno, they’re just chilled out guys.” He shrugged.

“Not really giving too much away, are you?”

“They’re hard to describe, to be honest with you. You just have to meet them,” John chuckled. 

Elena left it at that and sat back, enjoying the rest of the car ride. The radio had treated them nicely that day, feeding them with the slick tunes of Little Richard and The Drifters, to Elvis and The Everly Brothers. All music the two friends enjoyed throughout the years. Elena had taken a recent interest in The Rolling Stones, a sharp turn from what she was used to listening to. Growing up, she found her place in the Blues, and Soul. She could listen to the likes of Ella Fitzgerald and Nat King Cole for hours and never tire of their silky vocals; the pure emotion and heart that went into each stave and syllable rang deep within her, and she felt every word like kitten kisses upon her ears. 

Since John decided to become a full-time drummer, she’d been exposed to a wider variety of music that seeped from the essence of da blues to form a complete musical revolution that had quickly grown on her. The first time she heard the Stones was during her late night shift at work. Minimal pay for a 17-year-old, but the pub’s great company and tunes cancelled out the meesely wage. Satisfaction stuck with her all night. I can’t get no…neh neh neh nene neh neh… All. Night. 

The flood gates were swung open once she stepped foot into the record shop in search of more Stones. That’s when she first came across Bay City Rollers, Cream, The Yardbirds… it was a whole different world and Elena hoped with her entire being that there would be more of it to come—that it wasn’t a mere diversion in the chaotic lineage of music evolution.

Bag over his shoulder, John led Elena inside the building, where Crawling King Snakes had booked out a small space for a couple of hours in exchange for ��100. Dave was somewhat peeved that they had to spend that much on a couple of hours, but was easily convinced nonetheless. 

“Ayy, there he is!” Paul exclaimed, raising his arms in the air as he spotted John at the door with his female companion.

“Ayy, y’alright, mate?” John greeted him with a manly hug, slapping each other’s backs in the process. It amused Elena greatly when she witnessed John in the presence of other guys; his entire demeanour toughened and he gave the facade of a sharp-tongued lad’s lad. Yes, he had it in him. But the correlation between that and his surroundings was too coincidental for it not to be causational.

The room really was small for a jamming session. Four yellow strip lights hung above, and the carpet was worn and colourless, as though waiting to be quenched by the kaleidoscopic symphonies of talented musicians. 

“Dave, get your arse over ‘ere,” Paul waved his hand over to the other male in the room, long-haired and lost in thought with a blue bass guitar slung over his shoulder. 

“El,” John began, slinging his arm around Elena and bringing her beside him. “This is Paul Martinez and Dave Edmunds—guitar and bass. They’re mental. Beware.”

Elena laughed and shook her head, holding out her hand to greet the two men politely. They reciprocated the greeting with friendly smiles, one accompanied by a cigarette hanging from his lips.

“This is Elena. She’s my best friend, partner in crime, and primary critic. If anyone knows what sounds good, it’s this girl, here,” he proudly introduced with a squeeze of her shoulders against him. 

“Good to meet you,” Paul said through the muffle of his cigarette. 

“Right, El, I need to set up properly, you’re alright just hanging about, yeah?” John checked, putting his bag down on a nearby chair. 

“Mhm,” Elena nodded with a smile. “I’ll be here.” She watched as John made his way over to the drum riser to get to work on tightening the drum skins and double checking placements.

With her arms folded comfortably, she took a small step backwards, only to collide with something, or someone, coming through the door behind her. She turned her head and moved out of the way immediately. “Oh, sorry…” she instinctively apologised before looking up at the person in question. 

“Nah, yer alright, luv, I was just gunna skim past you.”

Her chestnut eyes fell in line with two striking orbs of blue—expressive and welcoming. He had thick, curly hair that traced the fine line of dirty blonde. It looked like it could easily switch up in the glare of the sun, with how delicate it seemed. It fell into strong sideburns that stopped just short of his chin, framing a dimpled grin that dismissed her apology.

“Ah, Bobby!” Paul called in the midst of lighting a cigarette. The blonde grunted and looked over at him with a dissatisfied glare.

“Will you stop calling me that?”

“Bobby Bobby Bobby Bobbehhhh,” John joined in, in a crouched position by one of the snares. With a boisterous laugh, he popped his head up, gesturing a drumstick at Elena. “Elena, Robert, Robert, Elena.”

Robert’s brows lifted in realisation, a smile once again taking over his features as he turned back to Elena with his hand held out. “Ah, you’re the one he’s been talkin’ about, then.” Clasping his hand in hers, he leaned in to give her a welcoming peck on the cheek, as he did with all the women he came across.

“Great to know he’s been talking about me,” Elena responded loud enough for the drummer to hear, earning a distracted middle finger from him in retaliation.

“Oh, he’s mentioned you a fair bit, yeah,” Robert nodded.

“That’s disconcerting…”

“No, all good things, luv, don’t worry.” Robert waved his hand in dismissal. 

They naturally drifted further into the room as everyone hooked themselves up to the few amps they had lying around. Robert was itching to get started. He’d been looking for other strong musicians with a similar zest for life to jive with for a while, and hoped that Crawling King Snakes could at the very least lead to something magnificent. It made him all the more nervous to test out new material, though, now that he had an audience. Not just any audience, either. The presence of John’s female companion, who Robert wasn’t blind enough to recognise as physically stunning. 

Even though this was simply an opportunity to jam and test out different sounds, he knew he had to get it right. Whatever it was. Early on, he learned that leaving a not-so-impactful impression on the ladies was the last thing anyone should do when performing. It would be a notch on his ego, an ego he was subconsciously trying to craft around the slightly sensitive, yet lively, 18-year-old boy that he was.

Little did he know he had already made a lasting impression, simply by the way he greeted Elena at the door. There was something extremely European about his way of saying ‘hello,’ in a sense that it held the weight of a respectful, gallant gentleman. To Elena, that was extremely comforting and unique; exactly the kind of person she’d enjoy surrounding herself with.

The way he chose to dress himself… wow. She’d very rarely seen men adorn their bodies with such delicate material, bohemian and Eastern-inspired all at once. If there was one thing Robert was, it was remarkable, exceptional… abnormal—everything the world was missing but didn’t know it needed. And that was just by the way he dressed.

It was fair to say Elena’s interest in this eccentric boy was piqued.

Incidentally, the feeling was mutual. Robert was instantly caught up in the way her deep brown hair fell in natural waves down her back, tamed, yet allowed to sway freely with every movement she made. And her eyes, fuck, they were so big and captivating. He’d already picked up on her accent, always one to take note of such things. Alluring, unapologetically informal. So care-free. He only hoped that his first impressions of her were accurate. It would be a shame to see something so beautiful turn out to be the complete opposite.

“Bonzo’s a great drummer, isn’t he?”

Elena, leaning against the wall with her hands behind her back, cocked her head in Robert’s direction. “Bonzo?”

“John.” He nodded his head towards him.

“He’s a fantastic drummer. Always thought that of him.” Elena’s voice was soft as she admired him from afar. 

“How long have you two been together?”

The brunette had to steal a minute to confirm she had heard correctly. She had paused amid her smile in John’s direction. “Who?” she checked, glancing at Robert.

“You and John.”

“Oh God, no,” she was quick to shake her head, face falling flat. “No, no…”

Robert’s light smile fell slightly, and a soft shade of pink infiltrated his cheeks. “No?”

“Yeah, no.”

“No, what?”

“We aren’t together,” she insisted with a gesturing finger between herself and her best friend. “Hasn’t he told you he’s married?”

Robert’s eyebrows scrunched up, sending a curious glance over at John. “It’s never come up in conversation, I guess.”

“It was recent, to be fair.” Elena watched Robert’s analytical observation. “He’s got a one-month old son, as well.”

“Well, shit,” Robert breathed, running a hand over his face. “Sorry, I just assumed ‘cause of how close you two seem to be…” Behind the comfort of his hand, he scrunched up his face in embarrassment and shook his head. “Fuckin’ Bonzo…” he muttered. Crawling King Snakes hadn’t been together for longer than a couple of months, and none of the eight sessions they'd had thus far consisted of private-life talk. Each of them were too preoccupied with the music and forming a cohesive combination of personalities to delve into the lives of one another.

Elena’s swift dismissal may have translated as abrasive, and she became quickly aware of that as soon as Robert hid his face behind his hand, inaudibly scolding himself. She didn’t jump to reassure him, however. His sensitivity to the smallest misunderstanding was captivating. Rare. There was no need to maintain emphasis on something that clearly left him unwillingly flustered.

So, she changed the topic, focusing on the nickname Robert had used twice now.

“You call him Bonzo?” Elena smiled, not only at the name, but the way it sounded on a Black Country tongue. 

“Yeah, well,” Robert chuckled, showing an off-centre slant in his smile that emphasised the dimple on his right cheek. “He was insistent on calling me Bobby, so I thought I’d call him something that would piss him off even more, but…” He shook his head, watching his bandmate test out each drum to perfection. “He actually didn’t mind it, so it’s stuck.”

“Bonzo…” Elena tested the name in her own mouth, the cadence different in her Lancashire drawl. “It fits him, dunnit?” She said through a grin. “I’ve always called him Bon-Bon.”

“Like the sweet?” Robert looked down at her, resting his hand on the wall beside her head casually, the small blip in their conversation fading into obscurity.

She nodded, still looking at John. “Mhm. It was actually an accident,” she pointed out, glancing at Robert. “I guess I struggled to say ‘Bonham’ when I was 4.”

“Blimey, you’ve known him for that long?”

Elena turned her head to him fully, her mouth dropping open a bit. “Alright, calm down, how old do you think I am?”

“I-I didn’t mean it as in ‘you’re old’!” Robert laughed. “You can’t be much older than us!”

“I’m actually younger than John by a year, so…”

“Well, I’m younger than him by a few months.” 

“So, there you go, I’m not old.”

“Listen, luv, I was simply shocked by how long you’ve known him,” Robert incessantly defended himself, much to Elena’s amusement. She smiled at him, looking back at John.

“Nah, I bloody wish I was older.”

“And why’s that?”

“Can’t drink yet, can I?” She gave Robert a pointed look.

“That’s right, you can’t.” He feigned distress, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “The struggles of being 17 in England.”

“Oh, I know, it’s torture,” she played along, resting her head back against the wall.

He smirked. “So, you’re a drinker, then, eh?”

“Well…” she shrugged, “A bit, yeah. I work in a pub as a waitress, so sometimes I can have half a pint at the end of the shift if there aren’t that many people in. Which hardly ever happens.” She rolled her eyes.

“I’ve only recently turned 18, so I’m still trying to get used to buying alcohol in the shops without worrying about being caught,” Robert chided. “What pub d’you work in?”

“The George Inn. It’s like slam in between here and up in Walsall.”

“I see…” Robert nodded, chewing his lip in thought.

“That being said, I want to move a bit closer to here, eventually. Not entirely in the city centre, though, I like the countryside a bit too much.”

Robert just smiled as she spoke. He took in every piece of information, enjoying the way she’d speak in her hometown slang every now and then. She definitely spoke a lot, but Robert didn’t mind. He admired it.

“Like, closer to the city, but not completely in the city… d’ya get what I mean?” She looked up at Robert, completely unashamed of her rambling. 

“I get what you mean, luv,” he reassured.

“I know this might be weird, but I just love being surrounded by nature. It’s how I grew up—how both of us grew up,” she gestured between herself and John, who was almost done. “And I have a thing for plants. Being in the city doesn’t really reward you with that stuff, does it?”

Elena watched as Robert’s smile widened, seemingly proud of himself. She raised an eyebrow. “What’s that look for?”

“You have a thing for plants?” he asked.

“Alright, I know it’s a bit… nerdy, or whatever, but yeah, I do. I like the smell of them when you’ve just watered them, and the reflections they make when the sun hits them in the right spot. They brighten up a room. There’s just something… comforting about them.”

“You really don’t need to defend yourself, Elena.” She liked the way he said her name. It was almost like he was testing it out for the first time. “I’m a bit like that with nature. My parents used to take me over to Wales every year on holiday, and we’d stay right in the heart of nature. Right on the coast. It was great.” He folded his arms, glancing over at John. “Aren’t you bloody done, yet?”

“You’re the one yappin’ on over there ‘bout God knows what, don’t have a chomp at Bonz!” Dave scolded, punctuated with a funky run of notes from his bass.

“Oh, shit,” Robert snorted, his face flushing where his sideburns faded out into a light beard. “Guess that’s me cue,” he said to Elena, a small boost of confidence overtaking him in the dawn of stepping in front of a band. “Oh, by the way, my last name is Plant. And I’ve been known to brighten up any room,” he teased with a boyish wink.

Elena couldn’t help but grin, as much as she tried to resist looking silly, as she watched him walk up to the mic stand.

If Robert didn’t feel some kind of pressure before, he certainly did now. He’d just bigged himself up in the most pretentious way possible, in his mind, by using his name. His bloody name! If he could, he would have slapped himself, right in the face. As he stood there, right in between his bandmates and the inquisitive gaze of Elena, he felt it brewing in the pit of his stomach. A certain drive. A metaphorical shove to let go. To show off. To submerge himself in the euphoria he called music. To do everything he’d admired his idols for for so long now. 

In this moment, he finally caught the essence by a fleeting blink of an eye, and he grasped it as firmly as he did the microphone, determined to never let it go.

Unsure of what she was expecting from the seemingly delicate, unruly-haired, sapphire-eyed young man in front of her, Elena sat on the edge of her seat as Robert exorcised such visceral sounds from his mouth. Unlike anything she’d ever heard. She watched as he got completely lost in the rhythm, shaking his curls around in time with each riff. 

The perfect combination of what she’d grown up on and what she’d recently ventured into.

It left her speechless; a big deal for someone like Elena, who rarely managed to keep her mouth shut. She had to distract herself, keep herself from acting like a babbling idiot before Robert even thought about asking her for feedback. So, whilst Robert helped John with some wires at the end of their session, Elena struck up a conversation with Paul, eager to know about his influences. But as much as she tried to focus on what Paul was saying, her eyes betrayed her mind, and made brief but definite glances at the singer on the drum-riser.

Robert bit onto his tongue as he concentrated on winding up one of the wires that had previously been connected to his microphone. John was busy complaining about how they had to make sure they left the room the way they found it, despite the state they found it in. They’d be blamed for it either way. Young, aspiring musicians were blamed for everything these days.

He made sure to nod along, but stayed entirely fascinated by Elena, making hidden glances over at her as she chatted with Paul. Her hair that struck him upon impact now became an accomplice to the rest of her; the two hours he’d been in her presence was enough for him to know he wanted to see more. He wanted to know her, learn from her. 

“Uh, Bonz’,” he interrupted John’s rant. He took another moment to succumb to the temptation Elena unknowingly laid out for him, her own cheeks adorned with faint dimples when she laughed. Finally able to tear his eyes from her, he looked at John. “Is, uh…” He nodded his head in the relative direction of Elena. “Is Elena gunna be around a lot, d’you think?” He tried to make his inquisition as casual as possible, nonchalantly hanging the wire in his hands up on one of the hooks behind the drumset. 

Whilst John Bonham enjoyed his off-peak ramblings, he wasn’t naive, and he most certainly wasn’t an idiot. This wasn’t the first time another guy had come up to him with a question about his childhood best friend, wondering if she was single, if they were a couple, or anything of that nature. It wasn’t a common occurrence, but it happened enough for him to recognise that tone and look in the eye of any man who asked about a woman with an underlying interest in getting to know her. 

He stood from his seat, stretching his back out with an exaggerated groan to cover up the smirk on his face. “If she’s not working, I should imagine she’ll be around us a lot,” he responded, watching intently at Robert’s reaction. But Robert knew he was being watched, and tilted his head in an attempt to cover his expressions with the curls atop his head. This’d be fuckin’ easier if my hair was long…

“You don’t have an issue with her bein’ around, do you?”

“No,” Robert answered immediately, lifting his head up to meet amused eyes. “Just… it was just a question,” he sighed, giving up as Elena appeared at the bottom of the drum-riser, smiling at John.

“Yep, almost done, El,” he responded to a silent question he knew she was about to ask. “What time you s’pposed to start your shift?”

“Five,” she answered, folding her arms and sending a comfortable smile over to Robert.

“What’d’ya think?” Robert asked, jumping down from the riser.

Elena’s smile widened, but her response was cut off before she could even begin.

“What do you mean, ‘what’d’ya think’?” John chuckled. “El loves anything I do, isn’t that right?”

“‘Ar Bon-Bon is clearly very modest,” Elena teased, sending John a wry grin before turning her attention back to Robert. She considered him for a second, the earlier elation settled in her chest for now, and she was able to respond with a coherent elegance. “Not bad, Plant.”

Robert answered with an equally elegant nod of appreciation.

“Right, all done, love,” John huffed, joining them. “Ready to go?” he asked Elena. She nodded with a hum of approval. “Same time next week, yeah?” John turned to Robert, offering a manly hug once again, which consisted of a half-hug and a slap on the back. Receiving confirmation, John fished out his cigarettes in preparation for the ride to Elena’s work.

Before leaving, Robert made sure to give Elena another gallant kiss on the cheek, letting her know it was nice to meet her. She responded in kind, giving his arm a small squeeze in the process.

And as he watched the dynamic duo leave, Robert found himself already restless for next week’s session, where he’d hopefully get to see Elena again.

[lopsided-whiskey-grin]

Flashbang

Ghost x Soap

Word count: 7.4k (i got on a roll and couldn’t help myself, much like the poor boys in this fic ;)) 

Summary:  Ghost and Soap stumble upon one of the Las Almas Cartel's drug labs trying to escape from the Shadows. They get much more than they bargained for when a vial of a new powerful drug on the market breaks open at their feet. It's going to be one long fucking night.

Tags:  sex pollen, mildly dubious consent, blow jobs, size kink, anal fingering, anal sex, choking, bottom Ghost, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, rimming, first time bottoming, frottage, praise kink, spooning, fluff, shameless smut, PWP, top switching, +18 only!

also on AO3

"Goddamn truck is losin' power," Ghost muttered.

Soap groaned and ran a hand roughly down his face. Three days worth of stubble rasped against his gloved palm. He looked over at Ghost. The dashboard was lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree and even with Ghost's foot pumping the gas pedal, the truck was barely lurching forward. 

This was one of those times where everything that could go wrong, did go wrong. Murphy's law or some such bullshit. It felt like the day was never-ending and it appeared that they still had a long way to go. 

They had not even made it out of Las Almas.

Soap glanced out the window to get his bearings. It was still dark as hell and pissing down rain and he had no idea what part of the city they were in. He hoped it was the outskirts, at least. 

Doing his best to ignore the ache in his arm from the gsw he'd gotten courtesy of Graves' team, Soap readied his rifle. He knew they were going to have to bail and most likely fight their way through another wave of Shadows. Would this day ever end? Christ, he was so fucking tired.

The truck pitched forward and Ghost tried to gun it one more time, but the engine only sputtered. They rolled to a stop. "Bloody fuckin' hell," he growled, slamming his hands onto the steering wheel. "Looks like we're walking, Johnny. You ready?"

Soap sighed and squared his shoulders "Aye." He nodded to Ghost, hand holding steady on the door handle, awaiting L.t's orders.

"We need to get off this main road and look for another vehicle. We'll move interior to that building there," he jerked his chin toward a darkened mechanic's shop about 10 meters ahead of them, "and hope we can find something in the alley behind."

"Rog. I've got your six." Soap took a deep breath and opened the door. 

The street was quiet as they exited the vehicle. Except for the sound of the pouring rain and occasional crack of thunder, it otherwise would have been a lovely fucking autumn evening. Soap rolled his eyes at his own sarcasm and fell in line behind Ghost. Please, let's just get the hell out of this in one piece. 

Soap's eyes darted to every shadowed corner, hypervigilant. He had just barely gotten through the town alive when he was trying to find his way back to Ghost at the church not but ten minutes before; he hadn't had a chance to catch his breath or even dress the wound on his arm, which still stung like a motherfucker, thank you very much. And now here he was again, stuck back in the goddamn rain. 

Ghost crept quietly ahead of him, lit dimly by the occasional streetlight, his cargos soaked and clinging to his firm arse. Soap had to admit, the view wasn't half bad from this vantage point. At least he had that going for him. 

They finally came to the mechanic's shop and Ghost gave the signal to pull up and wait. Johnny did. He kept a look-out while Ghost jimmied the door. This side of the town was quiet, eerily so, and it made him uneasy as hell. C'mon, Ghost, crack on with it, mate. 

In less than a minute, Ghost got the door open and they were inside. It was darker than the street outside and just as empty of people. Soap wasn't sure if that made him feel better or not. 

Looking around, he realized that although it had looked like an auto shop on the outside, it was a front for something completely different. It was cluttered inside, but not with cars or tools. He's clicked his headlamp on. 

"What's all this then?"

There were rows of tables with various bottles, tubes, bunsen burners, and scientific instruments. Along the back wall were hundreds of boxes, neatly stacked, ready to be shipped. There was a faint burnt chemical scent to the air mixing with the muted smell of old motor oil. 

Ghost stepped along beside him, studying the tables. His hand rested on the butt of his holstered sidearm. "Must be one of the narcos' drug operations. Their laboratory."

He carefully picked up a small vial off the table and turned it in the light of his headlamp. Even with the mask covering his face, Soap could see the curiosity glinting in Ghost's eyes. It made his stomach flip, not unpleasantly, to be able to read his Lieutenant's expressions so clearly when many others had a hard time just getting a read on him. He felt like he knew Ghost better than most, but even then he wanted to get to know him on a deeper level. He wanted to know everything about him. 

The liquid inside the vial was faintly pink and rolled and shimmered in an almost mesmerizing way as Ghost tipped the glass this way and that. "It's got a label on it," he murmured. "Flashbang." 

Soap stepped closer, wanting to get a better look. "Some kind of heroin, maybe?" he asked. 

Ghost shrugged and started setting it back down, but then pulled it back up, eyes narrowed like he was trying to remember.

"Wait. I've heard about this. In a classified brief I read last y—"

A loud crash at the back of the room cut him off and both men spun with weapons drawn. Soap's heart was in his throat as he aimed at the intruder. 

It was a cat. Only a goddamn cat. After yowling at them, it leapt from a table of metal bowls and canisters then disappeared into a small hole beside the back door with an indignant hiss. Soap let out a shaky chuckle and turned back toward Ghost, but Ghost was not laughing. 

"Shit," Ghost murmured. 

Soap followed his line of sight to the floor. The vial that had been in Ghost’s hand was now on the ground, smashed open, its contents in a little puddle at their feet. A soft vapor coiled up between them and Soap instantly felt a little dizzy.

"Oh, this is not good, Johnny." 

"What is it? Some kind of poison?" Soap took a step back, starting to panic a little from the concern Ghost was relaying. And that lightheaded feeling was only getting worse. 

Ghost shook his head and hooked a finger in his collar, swallowing thickly. "No. A sex drug."

Soap huffed out a breath. "Is that all? What, like Ecstasy? Viagra?" You had to swallow those for it to get in your system, Soap knew that. So what the fuck was Ghost freaking out about then?

Ghost brought his head up, his gaze centering on Soap. There was no humor in his expression. Soap's stomach dropped. He was really starting to not feel well. "Fucking talk to me, Ghost. What are we dealing with here?"

Ghost squeezed his eyes shut and turned away. He made a bee-line across the room to a closed door that said oficina on it. Soap followed close behind, rattled and angry at Ghost for not answering him. His cheeks suddenly felt flushed and warm and he didn't know if it was from his exasperation or some reaction to the drug. 

He watched as Ghost reared back and kicked the door in with a rough grunt. The door swung open violently, the knob clattering to the ground in a shower of wood splinters, and Soap realized with a shock that he was suddenly and inexplicably very aroused. What the bloody hell was going on?

Ghost stalked into the room but Soap only stood at the threshold, momentarily frozen. He was sporting a serious half-chub in his tactical pants and he couldn't decide if he should be embarrassed by it. He watched Ghost closely, feeling his pulse tick up to a rapid flutter. 

The office was pretty small, with most of the room taken up by a cluttered desk on one end and a loveseat and coffee table on the opposite side. Ghost sat down on the couch with his elbows on his knees and his fingers steepled in front of his mouth. He sounded a little out of breath behind his mask and Soap's heart rate went higher. Ghost looked huge on that small sofa, looming, imposing, like he could fold Soap like fucking origami with no trouble at all. 

Soap swallowed against a suddenly very parched throat and flicked the light switch on the wall next to him. A lamp on top of a filing cabinet clicked on, casting the room in a soft, almost romantic light. He took one step into the room. And then another. 

Ghost had not taken his eyes off of him. He slowly lowered his hands so that his palms were clasping his knees. "S-soap. This drug..." He stopped, cleared his throat. "For lack of a better word… it makes people fuck." 

Soap stopped and stood just on the other side of the coffee table from where Ghost sat. Molten heat pooled low in his belly and he adjusted his trousers. They were suddenly very tight. "What?" His brows shot nearly to his hairline. His brain felt a little too fuzzy, a little too light. 

Ghost squeezed his gloved hands over his knees. "Inhaling even just a small drop induces… unyielding arousal. You can't help yourself and you can't stop." His deep voice shook over the last word. He dropped his gaze to his hands. "Johnny, we breathed in almost that whole vial."

The gravity of the situation came crashing down on Soap in a split second of clarity. He blinked and ran a hand through his hair. "Christ." If they did this, everything would change between them, even if it was something they had no control over. "How long do the effects last? Can we just wait it out?"

Ghost shrugged wearily. "There weren't many specifics in the brief. I don't know." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and Soap felt his judgment start to cloud again.

Soap shook his head to clear his thoughts. Unchecked arousal continued to simmer just under the surface, crackling like a slow burning fire in his veins. If he didn’t get his hands on Ghost, and soon, he felt like he’d literally die. 

Silence hung between them for what seemed like seven agonizing hours but was really only seconds. 

"So, we're really doing this then?" Soap finally asked. Please say yes. Please say fucking yes.

"If by 'doing' you mean each other, I guess so, yeah. Don't look like we have a choice here, Johnny." Ghost's gravelly voice saying his name rasped across his nerve endings, making him tremble.

Soap looked at him, met his eyes. He took a deep breath and let it out. "For what it's worth, I've been wanting to. For a while." He almost couldn’t believe he said the words out loud. But it was the truth, finally, for better or worse. 

Ghost stared at him for a moment. Soap's heart was in his throat. Nervous anticipation thrummed through him like an ungrounded live wire. For all the times he'd stolen glances at L.t. or dreamt of touching him, he had never once let it show. He didn't know if it was pride, or fear, or something else entirely, but he had always been so careful to hide it — until now. 

And now here it was, all laid bare. All it took was an accidental overdose of fucking Flashbang, his brain unhelpfully supplied. 

Ghost's eyes were dark. He squeezed his knees again and finally said, "Me too."

The admission felt like a dam bursting loose, flooding Soap with a desire he had never known. He reached down, grabbed the coffee table before him and threw it to the side of the room. Ghost hardly had time to move at all before Soap was falling to his knees before him and spreading his Lieutenant's legs. 

Ghost sucked in a sharp breath as Soap eagerly reached for his zipper. He leaned back on the couch, arms spread wide along the back of it, eyes heavy lidded and drilling into him. Soap wasted no time in tugging off his gloves, opening Ghost's cargos, and fishing out his erection. It was massive. With his hand wrapped around the base, Soap's fingers barely touched. 

He looked up at Ghost in awe. "You've been hiding this thing all along? Sweet Jesus, how do you even walk around with this dick swinging between your legs?"

Ghost chuckled but put his hand on Soap's head and guided him forward. "Push on, Johnny. Enough chatter."

Soap licked his lips and sank forward. "Yes, sir."

This wasn't the first cock Soap had ever sucked, but it was one of the biggest. There was no challenge he'd ever backed down from, though. Holding the shaft steady, he drew the head into his mouth. 

Ghost bucked at the contact, digging his fingers into Soap's hair. The sharp tug instantly drove Soap wild and he took the length of him (or as much as he could possibly fit) to the back of his throat in one go. The weight and taste of him on his tongue was pure fucking perfection -- a mixture of salt, and heat, and Ghost flooded his senses. He took a moment to savor then started bobbing his head up and down on Ghost’s cock, his lips feeling every delicious ridge and vein.

The groan Ghost let out above him was utterly unreal and sent a shock straight to Soap's stomach like a gut-punch. How long had he been waiting to hear exactly that? Too fucking long. 

It quickly became a sort of game to him then, licking and sucking in all different ways, just to hear how many sounds he could pull from Ghost. He was intoxicated by it and his own cock jumped within the confines of his tactical pants in response. He'd see to that soon enough; for now his only mission was to make Ghost come. 

With that one goal in mind Soap worked Ghost’s length with his hand in opposite time to the laving swipes of his tongue all along the underside of his shaft. He swallowed him down like he was a starving man being given the best meal of his life. And truly he was -- there was a hunger churning within him that made his insides ache.

It wasn’t long until Ghost was a panting, moaning mess above him. Soap slowly pulled off, then ran the tip of his tongue along the edge of Ghost's foreskin. A full body shudder wracked through him that reverberated all the way to Soap’s hand. 

"Shit, Johnny, I'm gonna —"

That was the only warning Soap got before Ghost cursed roughly and painted his face with stripes of his release. Panting for breath, Soap looked up at him slowly with a grin and licked at a droplet clinging to his bottom lip. Ghost's chest was heaving and he looked like his brain was about to catch fire.

He gently stuffed his softening cock back into his cargos, but didn’t bother zipping up. "Your turn, MacTavish." His voice was hoarse and deep, rough from the noises Soap had just wrenched from him. 

Soap quickly stood and undid his tactical vest. He tossed it aside then tugged his shirt over his head and used it to wipe his face clean. His boots and the rest of his clothes came off just as fast. Ghost's gaze raked over him with an undeniable greed that sent a shiver through his whole body and held his hand out for Soap, presumably to help him stand up from the couch. But Soap had another idea. 

"I thought you said it was my turn?" he asked, finally giving attention to his neglected cock with a languid stroke. 

"I do believe that's what I just said," Ghost replied, amused. 

Soap smirked, giving himself another stroke. He felt so warm in this cool room and knew he was undoubtedly ruddy from his chest to his cheeks, thanks to his damnably fair Scottish skin. "Sit on the floor." His voice sounded thick and heavy to his own ears. He wasn't used to ordering anyone around like this, much less his own fucking Lieutenant, but the drug seemed to be bringing out a side of him he’d always kept shoved deep down. 

Ghost complied, sliding down from the couch until his arse was seated on the ground. Soap stood before him, unabashedly naked and hard as a goddamn rock, with his feet on either side of Ghost's hips. He then pulled one foot up and set it on the couch to the side of Ghost's head and kept the other on the floor. 

Heady arousal scorched through him as Ghost looked up at him then slowly pulled his mask up to uncover his mouth. He didn't go any further, but Soap didn't need him to. His plush, soft lips were all Soap needed at the moment and they were going to look downright sinful wrapped around his cock. 

Ghost kept his eyes locked on Soap as he opened his mouth and let Soap sink right into him. He wasn't as well endowed as Ghost but he was just enough to make Ghost gag when he brushed the back of his throat. 

"Fucking christ," Soap moaned. Hot, wet heat enveloped him completely, short circuiting his brain. The relief of the skin to skin contact was indescribable. 

And then Ghost's hands, still gloved, came up to Soap's hips, encouraging him to start moving. Soap gulped in a breath and then move he did. He cupped the back of Ghost's head and rocked slowly at first, letting him get used to the feel of him in his mouth. But the pace was too slow for the urgency pounding through Soap's veins and he quickly kicked it up a notch. Ghost did not seem to mind at all -- welcoming it in fact, with muffled groans that vibrated right into Soap's core. 

After a few thrusts, Soap pulled out, knowing he was getting close but not wanting this moment to end. He held his cock loosely in front of Ghost's mouth then ran just the tip across his lips. Ghost's eyes slipped closed.

From this angle he could see the glint of saliva and precome shining on Ghost's chin. It was one of the sexiest things he’d ever fucking seen. He couldn't hold back any longer. Feeding his cock back into the warmth of L.t's mouth, he began to snap his hips forward roughly. Ghost tightened his hold on Soap's hips, riding it out. Nothing else mattered in that moment, not the Shadows, not Graves, not even his duty to his country. Everything -- every fucking thing was reduced down to just Ghost and Soap and the incredible surge of pleasure arcing between them. 

Soap continued pounding into Ghost's mouth, racing closer and closer to the precipice of his orgasm. He felt tight, coiled, ready to snap. 

"Ghost." His name was a strangled plea.

Ghost's hand moved from Soap's hip to slide up between his legs. He cupped Soap's bollocks, rolling and tugging them with just the right amount of pressure and Soap was as good as fucking gone. 

He came hard, shooting his load straight down Ghost's throat with a strangled shout. He could feel the constriction of Ghost swallowing around him and he spasmed once more. He felt blissfully sated and wondered if they had already worked each other through the drug's unrelenting grip, not knowing they were far from over. 

Soap could stay upright no longer and sank down on shaky legs, straddling Ghost's still clothed body. He framed Ghost's partially masked face and dove in for a kiss. Ghost met his open mouth, hungry, searching. Soap could taste himself on Ghost's tongue and it nearly drove him out of his goddamn mind. He took and took and took until they were both breathless.

After a moment, Soap broke the kiss to press his lips and tongue and teeth to Ghost's exposed neck, making Ghost gasp. He could feel the rapid jump of Ghost's pulse just under the skin and felt it kick higher when he sucked a small bruise to the tender flesh below his ear.

Ghost tugged off his gloves finally and ran his hands all over Soap's back. "Johnny," he rasped, dipping lower to squeeze Soap's arse.

Soap couldn't help the surprised grunt that fell from his lips. He arched his back and squirmed down into Ghost's lap and felt the hard press of his cock. His own had barely had a chance to get soft and was already stiffening up again. His refractory period on this drug was nigh on non-existent. Bloody hell. 

Ghost squeezed his arse again, hard enough to be just on the pleasurable side of pain. "I need to feel you inside me, Johnny," he growled. A cresting wave of desire plowed through Soap mercilessly at Ghost's words. It wasn't a mewling plea — it was a fucking order. 

Soap scrambled up off Ghost's lap and hauled him up from the floor by his tactical vest. He slammed another kiss to Ghost's mouth. They worked together to undo his vest, untie his boots, pull off his trousers. It was all taking too long. The arousal screaming through his veins wouldn't let him take one more second undressing Ghost, and so, with his shirt and mask still on, Soap pulled him across the small room, cleared the desktop with one swipe of his arm, and bent Ghost over it. 

Ghost was breathing hard, they both were. Soap's fingers trembled as he grabbed two handfuls of Ghost's ample cheeks. He shuddered beneath Soap's touch. Soap gave them a little squeeze and pulled them apart, ready to just dive right in. But then the fog clouding his brain briefly lifted. Lube. Christ, dinnae forget that at least, you dolt.

Hands abandoning Ghost's arse, Soap began frantically pulling desk drawers open. Ghost looked back over his shoulder.

"Soap, what the fuck'r you doing?"

"Lube," he said, still rummaging through drawers. 

"Christ, Johnny, we don't need all that. You're fuckin' killing me here, mate," Ghost chuckled. 

"We do need it. I dinnae want to hurt you, Ghost."

"I'm a big boy, Soap. I think I can take it." Ghost shook his head and chuckled again, but Soap could tell he was coming to the end of his patience. Soap was too. He needed, so fucking badly, to be buried in the perfect hole. 

Finally, in the last drawer he opened, Soap saw a bottle of pure aloe gel. He held it up proudly. "Bingo."

Ghost glanced back to see what he had found. "Resourceful." 

"You taught me well, L.t." Be smart with what you got -- Ghost’s words from earlier echoed in his mind and he smiled to himself. He wasted no time in cracking open the bottle, squeezing a generous glob of it onto Ghost's crack, and smearing it around. 

Ghost jerked hard enough to shake the desk. "Christ," he swore under his breath. 

Soap smiled devilishly and held him apart with one hand. He trailed his index finger over Ghost's entrance twice before sliding it in to the second knuckle. Ghost sunk his head down and slammed his fist onto the desk. He muttered something Soap couldn't make out. 

Deciding he needed to put them both out of their collective misery, Soap quickly finished prepping Ghost by adding a second then third finger to scissor and stretch him open. Even for the short amount of time it took, it was agonizing. Though he couldn’t complain too much because even this, the feeling of Ghost's wet heat drawing at his fingers, was damn near enough to make him come again. 

Ghost's thighs were shaking by the time Soap pulled his fingers free and lined up the head of his cock in their place. "You ready for this, then, Ghost?"

Ghost looked at him over his shoulder. "Johnny, I swear to fucking god if you don't get on with it, I will break your fucking legs."

"A simple yes would have been nice," Soap said with a grin, then pushed himself inside. 

Both men moaned in tandem when Soap bottomed out. The sheer pleasure of it was staggering -- pure, feral connection. Soap squeezed his eyes shut and focused on breathing. 

"Fuck,” he choked raggedly, pulling out halfway then slamming back in.

Ghost grunted, his hands scrambling for purchase on the desk, as Soap gripped his hips and began thrusting. He quickly set a punishing pace, pounding into him hard, chasing his body's unrelenting demand for completion. On one particularly brutal stroke, Ghost arched his back, pulling Soap in impossibly deeper and Soap swore he saw stars. They both gasped. Soap was not going to last long if they kept this up. 

"G-ghost. Holy shit, you feel so fucking good," he stammered. 

Ghost's answering growl echoed off the walls in the small room, ratcheting Soap's arousal even higher. Soap rubbed Ghost's hip soothingly then brought his hands once more Ghost's arse cheeks. He spread him open and looked down, needing, with everything inside him, to see the place where they were joined. Ghost was glistening and stretched tight around Soap's cock, pulling him in, accepting him easily into his body. Soap was utterly captivated.

"Shit, Johnny." Ghost's desperate voice snapped Soap back to attention. "I'm nearly there, but I need to see your face. I - I need to watch you come."

Soap moaned his eager agreement, knowing at the same time he wouldn't see Ghost's face because of the mask. Being denied that twisted something in his chest painfully, but he shoved it down. Swallowing hard, he said, "Aye. Yes. Please."

He gave Ghost one last thrust, then pulled out. The loss of contact left Soap bereft, so he quickly found a spot on the dirty rug on the floor and laid down. He stroked himself in the absence of Ghost and watched, fascinated, as Ghost pushed off the desk and stalked toward him. He knelt down beside Soap and hitched a knee over his middle to straddle him. 

Without a word between them, Ghost grabbed Soap's cock by the base, then guided him back inside. 

Soap grit his teeth and threw his head back. The feeling was incredibly wet and tight but lax and giving all at the same time. How did he get so fucking lucky to be able to experience this? With Ghost? He'd be eternally fucking grateful to whatever divine entity had decided to grace Soap with this experience. He’d cherish it forever. 

Clamping his hands down onto Ghost's thighs, Soap looked up at him with a tangle of emotion tightening around his chest like a steel band. Ghost's mask was still scrunched up to expose his mouth and he had the bottom of his black t-shirt tugged up and clenched between bared teeth. His flexing  stomach fascinated Soap and he couldn't resist running his hands along his warm skin. Ghost's eyes slipped closed and he began rocking his hips, his cock bobbing in time to the motion. He moved slowly at first, then rode Soap in earnest, bracing a heavy hand on Soap’s chest for leverage. 

The weight of Ghost pressing him down, the squeeze of him surrounding him, the roughness of his movements abrading Soap’s back with rug burn, the thick scent of their coupling filling the air, all of it, every single last fucking detail was scorched into his brain. He tucked it all away, hoarded it deep inside, because if this was to be the last time, the only time this would happen between them, he needed to be able to replay it over and over and over. 

Soap did his best to keep up, bucking into Ghost with a rhythm that was quickly devolving into an erratic spasm. He screwed his eyes shut, trying to focus on breathing, on feeling the moment. He didn’t want to come yet even though his body screamed and howled for it. But he honestly had no control over any of it and he had no choice. He was blazing a trail to his orgasm faster than he could possibly try to prepare himself for.  

But before he could process another thought, there was suddenly a hand enveloping his throat. Soap's eyes flew open. Ghost was locked on, his gaze dark and hard as obsidian. He gave Soap’s throat a gentle squeeze, cutting off his blood flow just enough to fade his vision at the edges. “Look at me, Johnny.” His voice was deeper than Soap had ever heard it before. “Look at me when you come.”

Soap nodded and Ghost released his neck. He pulled in a deep breath through parted lips and dug his fingers into Ghost’s thighs where he had been holding on for dear life as Ghost rode him into oblivion. Then he watched in awe while Ghost sat back, pulled his shirt up over his head, tossed it aside, and finally, finally, slipped his mask off. 

Soap’s next breath got strangled in this throat even though Ghost’s hand was no longer on his neck. His face was not what Soap was expecting but that was simply because he was far more handsome than Soap had ever envisioned. Quite the opposite indeed.

He reached a shaky hand up to Ghost's cheek, caressing his thumb across a deep scar there. Ghost nuzzled into the touch, continuing to grind down onto Soap's cock. Then he turned his head just enough to draw the tip of Soap's thumb into his mouth. 

And with that, Soap was lost.

"Ghost," he choked. His climax blazed through him like an unchecked wildfire and he slammed up into Ghost one last time, emptying deep inside him. 

But despite the frenzy of pure sensation knocking the literal breath from his lungs, Soap did not once take his eyes off Ghost. 

Ghost rode him through it, chasing his own release, swirling his hips until Soap was bordering on overstimulation. It was too much — and far from enough. Soap shuddered and took Ghost's cock in hand and pumped until Ghost was shuddering too. 

And then Ghost was coming, spurting across Soap's belly and chest. His hole constricted around Soap, still embedded inside him, and Soap moaned weakly. He was wrung out, blissed out, in the best fucking way possible. Surely, they had finally broken the drug's hold now. 

Ghost slumped down with a hoarse sigh, covering Soap's whole body with the delicious weight of him, making a mess of the spend smeared between them. Soap fought to catch his breath. He brought his hands to Ghost's broad back, sliding his fingers along the perspiration there, feeling the delicate dips and valleys of the smattering of scars peppered across his skin like a road map of his life. Soap had scars of his own, of course, and had gained many of them on missions with Ghost by his side, but he wanted to know the story behind each and every one Ghost carried. 

But he didn't even get a chance to form a question or even another thought before he was being rolled over onto his stomach. He was so numb from his post-orgasmic state he could hardly process what was happening. 

"Up on your knees for me, Johnny." Ghost's voice drifted from behind him. 

Without thinking, he complied to the command from his Lieutenant as best he could, but his arms were too shaky to support him, so he tucked his knees up under him with his arse in the air and his face resting on his forearms. And then the haze of pleasure and exhaustion lifted slightly. 

"Ghost, wait." His voice was husky and frayed. Ghost stilled behind him immediately. 

I don't think I can even get it up again he wanted to say, but he knew, just as soon as he thought it, that it was a lie. His cock was already starting to harden once more. Jesus fucking Christ, seriously?

But that wasn't his only concern at the moment. 

 "I haven't…" He swallowed, tried again. "No one's ever, uh…" How was he even embarrassed to say it after the unabashed intimacy they had been sharing? With his arse currently in the air like a bitch in heat, no less?

Ghost was quiet for a moment. "Johnny, are you trying to tell me this arsehole is untouched?" He asked breathlessly. It sent a shiver racing down Soap's spine. 

He sighed. "Aye."

"Well, we'll just have to remedy that, now won't we?" Ghost's warm hand settled on his back. "Will you let me?"

Soap screwed his eyes shut and nodded. 

"I want to hear you say it, Johnny." His hand rubbed from Soap's lower back down to cup an arse cheek. He gave it a little squeeze. 

Soap's cock throbbed and he sucked in a sharp breath. "Aye, Ghost. Yes."

In the very next moment, Ghost was spreading him open and licking a hot, wet stripe from his bollocks to his hole. Soap could not stop himself from letting out the most pathetic whimper of his life. 

He could feel Ghost smile against his skin. "Atta boy." 

The praise first went to Soap's head then straight down to his cock. Well that's interesting. He filed that little bit of information about himself away for later use. 

"Fuuuck," he moaned into his arms. He pushed his arse back at Ghost's face, quickly obsessed with the feeling of Ghost's mouth on him.

After laying a few nips and kitten licks to Soap's skin, teasing him to the point of madness, Ghost dove in earnestly. He probed his tongue against Soap's quivering hole, lapping at him over and over again. 

Crying out at the sensation, Soap rocked his hips to feel more. His brain could hardly begin to comprehend that it was Ghost back there — fucking Ghost. Was this really happening? He wasn't unconscious in a ditch somewhere dreaming this, right? 

Ghost murmured more praises against his skin and then started spearing his tongue inside, slamming Soap's focus back immediately. 

"Relax, Johnny,” he heard him say. “Let me in.”

Soap's breath hitched painfully in his chest and he concentrated all his effort on loosening up. Taking inventory of his body, he realized how tightly wound he really was. He drew in a big gulp of air then let it out slowly, allowing his muscles to go slack. 

"That's it, love," Ghost rasped against his sensitive skin. Warmth bloomed low in Soap's belly and he pushed back tentatively. 

And with that, Ghost began licking deep inside. Soap quickly became a sloppy, shuddering mess under the relentless press of Ghost's mouth. His thighs were trembling and he was moaning uncontrollably by the time Ghost was able to spear his tongue almost all the way inside.

After plunging in a few more times he pulled back, giving Soap a moment to catch his breath. “Fuckin’ hell, Johnny. Judging from the noises you’re makin’ I’d just about bet you can come from my mouth alone.”

Soap’s heart knocked heavily in his chest. He was exhausted, tapped out, but there was still an unrelenting current of arousal roiling just under the surface, demanding it all. He was starting to worry that this was how he was finally going to cark it -- fucked to death by his own Leiutenant. 

He shook his head. “I think I’ve run dry, L.t.,” he panted hoarsely.

Ghost kneaded his arse cheeks, keeping them spread open, and dipped just the tips of his thumbs into Soap’s spit-slick entrance. Soap quaked at the touch. “I believe you can, Johnny. For me.” His voice was a deep, liquid heat. Soap was struck momentarily speechless.

Ghost shifted behind him then dove back in and all Soap could do was groan against the onslaught. His cock was hard yet again, aching to be touched, aching for completion, aching more and more with each press of Ghost’s lips. Soap felt like he was about to fully lose his mind.  

He was sweating and swearing and shaking and utterly falling apart under the continued ministrations of Ghost's tongue. He wanted to come, he needed to come, he'd die if he didn't fucking come, but he just didn't know if he had another one in him. This damned drug was pushing him harder and farther than he'd ever gone before in such a short amount of time. 

"Ghost, please."

Ghost pulled his mouth from Soap's arse but only far enough to speak. "C'mon, love, I know you can do it." Soap could feel the hot rush of his breath against his already overheated skin. 

He shook his head where it was buried against his forearms. "I can't, Ghost." He was on the brink of tears. He had nothing left to give. 

“Yes, you can, Johnny,” Ghost coaxed. “I know you can.”

Soap bit back a sob. He was a soldier, his only job in this life was to follow orders, and all he wanted, the only thing he fucking wanted was to make Ghost happy. So, for Ghost, he would find a way -- for Ghost he would.

Blowing out a fractured huff, Soap squeezed his eyes shut so tightly he saw stars. He drug in one more deep breath… And then let go.

His orgasm hit him like a goddamn gut punch. He clenched up from the intensity of it, feeling like the wind was knocked clean out of him. And truly it was. He gasped air into his lungs, feeling like he had just finished running a marathon. His cock spasmed but produced only one weak spurt. Bloody fucking hell. 

"Good boy, Johnny. I knew you could do it." Ghost patted Soap’s hip gently. The soft adoration in his voice made Soap's heart soar. He'd never felt more fulfilled than he did in that moment. 

But he was also utterly knackered and could no longer hold himself up. He crashed to the floor in a graceless heap with Ghost following seconds behind, both men struggling for oxygen. Ghost pulled him in close, spooning against his back, skin to skin. 

Soap melted into him, eyes slipping closed, on the very edge of sleep. But then he felt the hard column of Ghost's cock pressing on his lower back. He looked over his shoulder, meeting Ghost's dark gaze. 

"Did you finish?" he asked. 

"Not yet." Ghost rolled his hips forward. 

Soap pulled his gaze away, huffing out an incredulous laugh. "I can't do it again, Ghost. I'm serious this time."

"You don't even have to do anything, love. Just lay still." 

Soap was about to give another protest until he felt Ghost's thick member suddenly pushing between his arse cheeks. He was still a slippery mess from Ghost's mouth so he was able to slide into the crease easily. 

"I — Oh," he moaned.

Ghost pressed heated kisses to his shoulder blade and the back of his neck. Gooseflesh prickled up his skin in the wake of Ghost’s mouth and he suppressed a shiver. “You have no idea how long I’ve dreamt of having you like this.” He rasped the words against the sensitive shell of Soap’s ear. 

Soap shared the sentiment. He’d thought of little else since meeting Ghost. It was a shame to think that Flashbang was the only thing that finally made it happen, though Soap supposed they would have jumped each other’s bones eventually. Their stubbornness was the only thing that had stood in their way.  

Ghost’s hand snaked up over Soap’s side, then slid slowly up his chest while he rocked his hips, pistoning his cock through the wet channel of his cheeks and thighs. Soap arched into it, tangling his feet with Ghost’s, entwining their fingers together, holding on so tightly. He knew that it would all be over soon. He knew that even though the drug had made it feel like the night would never end, it would peter out at some point; it was only a matter of time. And then they would go back to the way it was before. The joking and teasing and stolen heated glances were fun to an extent. But Soap felt gutted, realizing that they would soon wash up, get dressed, and get on with their mission, chalking tonight up to nothing more than a fluke. Soap himself knew he wouldn’t -- he knew in his heart that drug or no, he had wanted this more than fucking anything. He just wasn’t sure Ghost felt the same. 

“How long?” Soap breathed, almost afraid to ask. His pulse thundered loudly, awaiting Ghost’s answer. 

Ghost tightened his hand in Soap’s where it lay right over his pounding heart. He nuzzled his lips to Soap’s ear. “Since the moment I laid eyes on you, Johnny.” He said it simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

A weight he didn���t know he’d been carrying lifted from Soap’s shoulders and he blinked back the sting of tears. He huffed out a watery chuckle and pushed back against Ghost’s next thrust forward. “Took ya long enough to finally say something, you great British bastard.”

Ghost grinned into the crook of Soap’s sweaty neck. He snapped his hips forward a little faster. “I never should have waited this long. I promise I’ll make it up to you, love.”

The very next second, Ghost came. He pushed one more time with a soft grunt, then pulsed his release, spurting the warmth of his spend between Soap’s closed thighs. It was nearly enough to make Soap climax again, nearly. He would have, if he had the strength to do it. 

They lay quietly for a few moments after that, tightly intertwined, catching their breath, until the drug demanded satisfaction yet again. Soap was not sure how he did it, but he and Ghost both came again three more times (the last two being completely dry orgasms) before the gray light of early dawn began brightening the windows of the mechanic’s shop. Each time was more spectacular and more depleting than the last, until finally, fucking finally, the drug cleared their system. 

Soap had hoped they would be able to rest after that unending night, because he had never been more drained in his entire life, but of course they were not quite so lucky. Having only just barely thrown their clothes, boots, and tactical gear back on, Ghost and Soap were forced to fight their way out the back exit when a group of Shadows burst into the shop, because why the fuck not.

They were somehow able to find a working vehicle in the alley to Soap’s utter surprise. At least there was that. After he jumped into the passenger seat and Ghost cranked the engine, they shared one heated, albeit exhausted, kiss, and peeled away from the encroaching enemy. 

Soap gave his middle finger out the truck window to the shop as they sped down the alley amongst a hail of gunfire. Ghost laughed heartily beside him, pulling his mask back in place. 

“Get me to the nearest bed fucking bed you can find, L.t,” he sighed, flopping back against his seat. He couldn’t remember a time in his life he had been so tired. 

“You’re not sick of me yet?” Ghost asked, amused. One hand gripped the steering wheel while the other cupped his crotch suggestively. 

Soap turned in his seat, shaking a threatening finger at him. “Ghost, I swear to fucking Christ, if you don’t keep that cock away from me for the next two days at least, I will break your fucking nose.” Soap was sore everywhere, from his scalp to his heels, and he was not joking. 

“What, and risk ruining this handsome face?” Ghost rumbled, a cheeky grin clear in his voice. He turned the truck out of the alley and onto a side street. 

“I’ll take my chances.” Soap crossed his arms like a petulant child and sank down into his seat. He was already feeling the heavy pull of sleep trying to claim him. Looking out his window, he watched the rising sun peek over the horizon. There was not a cloud in the sky -- a stark contrast to the ceaseless rainstorm yesterday. 

“Well, what about after two days?” Ghost’s voice drifted over to him. The rough timber of it coiled warmly in Soap’s stomach.  

He pulled his gaze away from the window and centered it on Ghost beside him. His heart fluttered when Ghost met his eyes for a moment before looking back to the road. “After two days, L.t., when I’ve had some time to recuperate, I’m all yours. As long as there’s no fucking Flashbang involved.”

Ghost chuckled deeply and gave Soap a little salute. “Copy that, MacTavish. Copy that.”

[femmmie]

Ian's Day: Ian and Anthony going on holiday together and being generally adorable?

Oh yes, and they definitely will go on holiday together. I feel it in my SPLEEN! Anyway,

Walnut Grove

Words: 1.397

Genre: general, a bit of fluff

Ian drove. Anthony was trying to make sense of a huge paper road map, spread all over the dashboard. He giggled.

"I'm so clueless and directionally challenged, we're so going to end up in a weird fucked up place!"

"Anthony, we are on holiday. There are no wrong turns. Just... adventure! Ian cracked a sideways smile at Anthony, who accepted the reassurance and sighed happily.

"No work, no social media, no phones! What a life!"

"Truly."

"I did a thing like this with a group of influencers a few years back. I thought I would go insane, it was so bad. But with you, it actually feels good, natural."

"You went on a group holiday with influencers?" Ian jokingly scrunched his nose and brows like Anthony had said something gross.

"Yeah, I did that."

"Hey, I'm just teasing ya. I actually feel the same. This is so nice." He sighed as well. "No frickin' avalanche of information directed at you at all times. And, haha, no corporate emails!!"

"No corporate emails!! Hell yes. It's like we're teenagers again."

"Ha! No teen has a beard as sick as mine!"

"True, or tens of thousands of dollars worth of tattoos."

"Geez, were they that expensive?"

"If you add everything up, yeah, they were."

"Well, Anthony, I think they add something unique to you, nobody has something like that. And I love that for you."

"Thanks! Oh, in a few miles, turn right."

"Thanks, buddy."

The land stretched seemingly endlessly around their rented Ford Mustang. It was clear blue skies, yellow grass and black trees to infinity. Hours passed and the sun began to set, when they approached their destination. The scenery had slightly changed, like minimal music, to include more and alive trees under a clear but darkening sky.

"Okay, the map says we have to take a left in a few miles, I can barely see anymore in this twilight. Let's hope we get there alright!"

Ian chuckled. "Imagine we get lost and run out of fuel, and have to just sleep on the side of the road."

"That sounds like the start of a horror movie!"

"Yeah, let's hope it doesn't come to that."

Sure enough, a large roadside billboard appeared with a big arrow pointing left. Green on white letters said 'Walnut Grove Resort'.

"Yes! We've made it!" Anthony yelled excitedly. They drove up a rickety driveway, along all kinds of holiday cabins. Rarely any had the lights on inside.

"Ours is number 31.."

They squinted through the dark, but finally, they found their house. It was right by a lake. Ian parked, and they jumped out of the car.

"This is awesome!"

Ian got a little key out of an envelope and they got into their house. It was very roomy and probably had an excellent view of the water and the forest that surrounded it. But it was so dark outside that they couldn't see anything.

Anthony walked around. "Wow, look at this room, look at the wooden walls, the high ceiling, the..."

"Fireplace!!" Ian jumped and made a victorious gesture, he walked to the fireplace and started to put blocks of wood into it, starting a fire. Anthony walked around some more. There was a huge bedroom with two beds and an en suite bathroom. There even was a second bedroom and another separate toilet. The kitchen was a bit old timey but large and when he opened the fridge, he saw it was fully stacked, just like they had ordered. Anthony did a little happy dance. Walking back into the living room, the fire was already crackling and Ian had taken seat on an incredibly comfortable looking fauteuil. Anthony lay down on the couch.

"You know what's funny?" Anthony asked.

"What?"

"If we would have our phones with us, we'd be scrolling right now! We wouldn't be able to truly enjoy this amazing house or even our holiday because we would be semi-working again!"

'You're so right. You know, everyone worries about AI taking over the world, but what part of people's lives isn't dictated by an algorhitm COMPLETELY, already right now?"

"I hadn't even thought of that. That's crazy."

"This fireplace is so fucking dope."

"I feel SO relaxed!"

"Yeah, me too, I'm already recovered from driving so long. I'm just chilling now."

They sat and lay about for a couple of hours just like that, and as the fire finally went out, Anthony stood up from the couch.

"Ian?"

"Yeah?"

"Let's go on a hike!"

"Bro, it's the middle of the night!"

"Yeah, dude! Dude... we might see her!" Anthony said this so suggestively that Ian laughed out loud."

"Who?"

"The Milky Way!"

"Is that a she?"

"Oh for sure. And she's gorgeous. I've never seen her in person yet though. It's been a life long dream."

"Well, how can I refuse that! Let's go live your dream, Anthony!"

They went outside where it was pitch-black. Anthony brought a flashlight but it only cast a small light on the path before them. They strolled along the path of the resort, alongside the lake. Then the road led out of the park and into the woods.

"I mean, this might be the end of us, Anthony. 'Last seen near their holiday home, Ian and Anthony mysteriously disappeared!' It's SO dark oh my god!"

"My eyes are adjusting to the dark though, are yours? I can see without the flashlight now. I even begin to see some stars!"

"No, don't put it out.. okay fine. But let's keep close?"

The genuine panic in Ian's voice melted Anthony's heart. He grabbed Ian's hand and they walked into the forest. And as they walked and it got even darker under the trees, the clear sky above showed the unfathomably large amount of stars there. The moon was only a sickle so that wasn't helping much. They continued, Anthony more and more enthusiastic, Ian cracking jokes to keep from being terrified.

"Wait! Anthony?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you see that?"

"Huh? Oh!"

There was a board with an arrow pointing left and on it stood 'Firewatch'.

"Ian, we HAVE to go. We will have the most epic view imaginable."

"Alright, but only because it's you. And after that I want to head back home okay? I mean to our holiday home, not actually home, we just got there..." Ian's voice trailed off. They were still holding hands and Anthony was rubbing his thumb on Ian's hand.

"I promise, okay?"

"Okay."

The turn left proved to be a less accessible path than they had thought and they slowed down quite a bit, having to let go and walk behind each other. But at long last, they reached the base of the watchtower.

"Are you sure we are allowed to go up at night?"

"It's not like we're vandals or something. We just want to see the view. Come on!"

They walked up the croaky metal staircase and Ian somehow found his courage again. "This is so cool," he said with a smile. Anthony smiled even wider.

When they reached the top, Anthony's idea proved to be literally stellar. The sky was filled to the brim with stars. They saw Ursa Major, Andromeda... they didn't know a lot of constellations after that but they still looked, in wonder, to the night sky they never ever saw in Los Angeles. They decided to sit down for a while.

"This is beautiful," Anthony said softly.

"Absolutely. Nature is crazy like that."

"Ian."

"Yeah?"

"I see her!"

"Oh shit you're right! Wow, look at that."

There, up among all the stars, was a large area that was extra bright. Like a path across the sky.

"It makes you feel so small, but in a good way, if you know what I mean," Ian said.

"Yeah. We're just insignificant specks in the universe. And yet, our lives are full of meaning. So just imagine, the amount of meaning and stories, and feelings, here in America, across the world, maybe even somewhere out there."

"Do you still believe in aliens?"

"Yeah, sure! If we're here, why wouldn't there be other planets like this?"

"If you say so, Anthony."

They sat there for quite some time before they headed back home. This promised to be one of their most unique and special holidays to date.

[rayar32]

I'm so normal about your OCs I haven't finished the series yet so I don't understand some limited things, but that will change soon! Anyways your OCs are fucking awesome and I would love an info dump on them if you have time

oh boy, an opportunity to not shut up about about my OCs! is it already Christmas??? (not but actually thank you for being interested in my dumb kids)

there's a lot to say about them, since I can't stop myself from thinking about em', so I'll do a bunch of fun facts:

- Luiza's main inspiration is Denji from Chainsaw Man; it's very telling with her feral smiles and uh, vulgar way of speech let's say (there's also the constant search for love by literally anyone but the funnies are more important)

- Luiza has self-taught herself in martial arts: her speciality is the Open Hand Technique, a fighting style that incorporates strong and fast slaps using the whole body.

(also yes she can slap so hard it creates a pressure wave)

- Luiza's favorite musical genre is rock in any variation, her favorites being popular songs from the 2010's. She is a certified MCR head and isn't ashamed to admit it.

- Luiza and Helena are twins: their birthday is on June 1st and they're both Geminis (which was totally intentional and not a happy coincidence thanks to a random number generator)

- Luiza is a flaming bisexual, Helena is trans and aroace, Milia is a lesbian and Rebeca is the token straight friend of the group while Six is Six (genderfluid and extremely pan)

(there's a lot more below but I'm hiding it as to not flood people's dashboards!)

- I have a pretty clear character arc for Luiza planned in a (completely delusional) season 1: Luiza starts out as a doormat due to years of having to take care of Helena during her depressive episodes and constantly failing to argue her down from very self-destructive and hateful thoughts; all of this makes Luiza consistently disregard her own opinions and thoughts for whatever her family thinks. She very much starts the "show" off being someone that burns herself for others and that has a very low opinion of herself. That of course changes when she finds Milia, someone that grows to unabashedly care for her and everything she stands for, making Luiza finally realize that yes, she has an innate worth as an individual even if she can't be useful to people. Also she finally grows a backbone specifically to stand up for herself and Milia.

- I think I already told this through a comic, but the reason they both have white locks of hair is trauma, though the irl reason for it is because white/grey are colors associated with wolves and I felt the need to be extremely obvious they're lycanthropes.

- Helena was the second sister to be made irl, but honestly both of their designs and Kallas' just, came to me suddenly one day. Their final designs are quite literally their first iteration, with a few changes over the months because that just happens when you draw the same characters over and over again-

- on the topic of Helena, she doesn't have a main inspiration as much as she is loosely based on the "mean goth girl" archetype; I say loosely based because Helena is also a theater kid in spirit and a huge nerdy loser under all that black leather-

- Helena's arc for season 1 starts out rough: she believes herself to be a monster and will do anything to keep her family safe. While Luiza wants to cure herself of her curse and interact with people, Helena wants to harness it further and never ever feel pain again. Whenever Luiza brings up her dreams of having friends and going to school, Helena shuts it down by saying it's unrealistic and she should stop thinking about it because they're monsters and it's all they'll ever be. Of course all of this vitriol comes from the sister's years of trying and failing to integrate in society, coupled with Helena's own mental issues warping her view of herself. By the end of season 1, through meeting Milia and Luiza finally having the guts to stand against her sister's ideas while still understanding why she thinks that way, Helena abandons her idea of harnessing her curse and starts to open up more to her family.

- Milia's main inspiration is very obviously Suletta Mercury from the Witch from Mercury; if the round eyebrows and generally anxious personality wasn't enough, like Suletta she grows to be confident and lead the charge for her friends (there's even more parallels but I would be spoiling the shit out of WfM-)

- Milia's birthday is on November 5th, making her a Scorpio (which is mildly funny if you're into astrology)

- her vampire form ripping away human skin to reveal a bat-like monster below it comes from an old concept I had involving vampires. I think it actually comes from somewhere else but I literally can't remember it-

- Milia is cold to the touch and barely feels pain; when first learning to cook Milia constantly cut herself and did not realize she did until she saw blood pouring out of her wounds

- Milia's season 1 arc is considerably simple compared to the twins: she starts out scared and alone and, through the Petroniuses compassion, learns to love and be loved. She learns to value herself, stand up for herself and let go of being scared of everything and everyone. She not only mirrors the sister's arcs, but also inspires them into developing through her honest and kind nature. For that reason in post season 1 Milia grows to be the leader of the Bootleg Gear Gang.

- The Angrvadall, Rati and Ukonvasara were all based on the Babr-e Bayan, Milia's relic. The three Symphogears are actually a testbed for a mass produced type of phonic armor development through alchemy; while they can reach the same insane power level that the canon girls do, the Bootleg Gear Gang aren't put in world ending situations and thus don't reach a power level higher than somewhere around GX and AXZ (though they get XV style Gears because I think they're neat-)

- Rebeca and Six are very much like siblings; though they were forced together into a single body, after years of working through it they became nearly inseparable. They both care for and respect each other's autonomy and personal limits, which is why they both wear gender neutral clothes (since Six is uncomfortable wearing traditionally feminine clothing)

- Rebeca was born August 25th making her a Virgo. Six can't remember his birthday, so they make their implant date, July 14th, their birthday. That makes Six's sign Cancer.

- Rebeca/Six were originally planned to be Milia's older siblings; this is still technically true since Six was part of the same undeath experiments that birthed Milia so... yeah! The idea of them inhabiting the same body came from a shower thought that simply stuck around because I really liked it (and also because it's a Gundam 00 reference-)

- also, they're both the strongest Symphogear wielders of the group; Luiza and Helena are stronger when singing in unison, but Rebeca/Six have a unique advantage with being able to switch from two completely different fighting styles on the fly. Additionally Rebeca's brain is simply built different and she constantly pushes her side of Ukonvasara to do increasingly stupid shit like calling down lighting, throwing thunder and eventually using magnetism and electrokinesis. She's very Maria-like when it comes to having an extremely versatile Symphogear and constantly pulling shit out of her ass-

[ranidspace]

Downloaded my Tumblr Privacy data lets see what it has on me:

My Email. Obviously.

My age. Despite me entering my birthday it doesn't seem to have that here? but it knows my age.

The exact time i opened my account: 2016-12-31 16:10:51 I then proceeded to not use it for 4 years.

A list of blogs i frequently reblog from, called "crushes" and a list of blogs that reblog of my posts, called "crushers"

a VERY confusing list just called "dashboard" which i THINK includes every single post on my dashboard. the list is fucking massive. it's 115391 entries long. a lot of them just being "Advertisement" which im really not sure what it means, because there's like tens and sometimes hundreds of them in a row. I think the list is just completely out of order.

A list of all my previous usernames, which is cool, but i hate them all.

A list of every account i unfollowed, and the time i unfollowed them. This file does NOT include a list of every account i follow.

the exact TOWN i live in. not city, exact small ass town i live in.

A list of every single ad that was shown to me, and if i clicked on them or not, or if i "viewed" them.

A list of my most used tags on all sideblogs.

My Advertising IDs

A list of every single time i opened up the app

i don't think it full accounts for everything but i had to make a graph anyway

It knows my phone is running OS number "11" but not android. which is really funny to me

my "most important tags"

A "user interest profile" which appears to be a bunch of tags i search, post about, reblog, etc. not fully comprehensive just a couple main ones. However i would like to point out, I sometimes browse the "H*gw*rts L*gacy"(censored so i dont show in searches) tag in order to find posts of people shitting on the game and reblog that, and so it thinks im interested in the game. However there's not many algorithms here, so it doesn't matter.

All my settings on my blogs

"Explore takeover analytics" This is interesting, these appear to just be links to posts that tumblr themselves make, usually pushed to the top of the explore tag and knows if you've looked at their posts or interacted with them. fun!

and finally, whether i have push notifications on for all my devices.

Honestly a lot less data than most other social medias. however they're still gathering a lot of advertising data on you.

other than a few personal details at the beginning heres what the whole list of stuff they have on u looks like

anything highlighted blue has extra data inside that i've hidden. anything that just has [] at the end is just empty. there are a couple sub folders in here.

i hope to god theres no details that are bad for security that i accidentally posted

[discodeviant]

Not Duke, Not Prince - Part 1

Billy | Teen | <1k words Alternate Canon/Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence

Second card!!!! I mulled over this one for a while and finally came up with something fun that I've never done before, so I hope you enjoy it!! All BHB posts can be found in the master post here. This is fully written, so I'll be posting updates every other day :) Enjoy <3 <3

Made for @billyhargrovebingo!

November, 1985

“Hey, Karen.”

It was a dark night. One of the few that would have spooked Billy if he wasn’t in the car, driving towards a night of false affection and something that mocked love. He’d turned his bright headlights on to navigate Hawkins back roads, knowing by then that curves and crosses approached too quickly otherwise. Without them, it felt like the dense tree line was closing in on him anyway.

Music filled the silence, a song of deceit and disguises making his body vibrate along with the car, easing his nerves as he checked himself out in the rear view mirror. He’d gotten dressed up, done his hair all spiffy and high, exchanged his dangling earring for something more conservative because that’s the kind of woman Karen was. He didn’t mind. He kept the leather jacket.

“You don’t mind if I call you Karen, do you?”

In his head, she said no. In his head, she flushed and looked down and flapped a hand at him like stop it, like I’m not young and pretty anymore. And maybe Billy saw through her guise a little too well, enough to keep ignoring it and shoving down the only reason he’d asked her out in the first place. The thought sent a flash of doubt and self-loathing over his eyes, which he also ignored in favor of the pearly-whites that, mostly, got him what he wanted. So, no, she didn’t mind if he called her Karen.

“Good.”

He smiled. Chuckled to himself, mirrored her shy gaze downward, though his was something of reluctance. It ended with a sigh and tense jaw, one hand on the wheel as the other scratched at the distressing on his jeans. A hole he’d been fiddling with for the last ten minutes. The road ahead of him was one he’d driven a few times to pick his sister up from Karen’s house—Max was friends with her son—but everything felt sour that night. Everything about this so-called date that, suddenly, he wasn’t looking forward to. Everything about the sky and twisting star patterns that he swore never looked like that before; maybe it was a sign, or he was just paranoid.

As his doubt really started to set in, it faded just as quickly when, all at once, there was a hiss and a screech, a force that sent him flying off the road and into the very tree line he knew—he felt—was going to swallow him up. He thought he hit a deer, the way the car spun so far out of his control, because he knew how unpredictably dense those things were. He’d seen mangled cars and drivers back home on more than one occasion, but maybe Hawkins deer weren’t so strong. Even so, the Camaro still smoked from the engine, and the windshield was still shattered and waiting to cave in.

“Oh, no,” he groaned once he came to, only a few seconds after the crash. “No, piece of shit.” Slamming the dashboard as if that would do anything good for him, he already saw the end of the night more clearly than an empty sky. That was when he felt the pressure in his head, sharp and dull at the same time, and he hissed at the gash on his forehead through gritted teeth. “Shit. Dammit!”

He was lucky the door still opened easily enough for him to stumble out and inspect the damage more closely. “Shit,” he said again, whispered, unbelieving, fucking praying that it was a dream and his car wasn’t totaled. He walked around to the other door, which was dented and unusable. “Dammit!” He banged and kicked. “Piece of shit!” And really, it was. Cheap and temporary, second- or third-hand from an old car lot in San Diego. His dad bought it when he was old enough to drive, both to get Billy out of his hair, and as something else to hold over his head.

Billy walked back around to slam the driver’s side door shut and inspect the windshield, the damage to his engine and see if he could fix it enough to get to Karen’s house. She was still there waiting for him; if he were fashionably late, maybe she’d be all the more excited to see him. But there was blood on the windshield too, tufts of fur caught between the segments of broken glass. Long, golden strands that he would have thought were his own if he didn’t know better.

Then, from the woods, a rustle and a growl, nothing to be seen but green shrubbery. “Who’s there!” Nothing. “Hey! I said, who’s there!”

And from behind him came thudding footsteps, and he was on the ground, pinned to dirt and gravel by something heavy with big paws and claws that dug into his back. Screaming didn’t help. He couldn’t thrash or get on his back to take control of its limbs, whatever kind they were. But the thing managed to do so on its own, flipping him like a rag doll so he could look into a pair of eyes like two moons in a feline face. Its mane shimmered like honey, and it was all too much.

Perhaps he was resigned to his destiny, somehow. Billy Hargrove wasn’t meant to last as long as he did, and it was finally over in the saddest way it could have been. Not next to people who cared about him when he was in his old age, having lived a long, prosperous, healing life, but alone in the woods at the hands—paws—of the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen.

He laughed as the forest swallowed him after all; it was just too good.

Part 2

[fromaliminalspace]

...is it just me or has tumblr fucked up so massively that it literally stopped both XKit Rewritten and that one more recent dashboard unfucker script from working :/ opened the desktop view for the first time in a bit of while and it decidedly does not look like a place of honor. at all. where are all my tag bundles. where is the old dash view. where is fucking everything or, more accurately, why is it not working

upd for those who might need it as well: turns out it's the tampermonkey and not tumblr itself. found the way to fix it in this post

[vanillahub]

☄❀✂❦

@honorhunt

the salty af munday meme [Accepting]

☄ Have you ever been in the middle of drama?

// In all of my years RPing here, I've managed to avoid big dramas for the most part! Thank fuck.

So, the one that did involve was mainly due to misunderstandings, from another person. This happened about 4-5 years ago, and the person in question has come clean and apologised for jumping the gun, the way they did. It's all good between us, but the incident in question has kinda of stuck in my mind.

Essentially I had responded to one of those unpopular opinions memes, and this person's former friend looked @ my post and went straight to this person, try to push the idea I was somehow vagueposting about them and their muse. And they believed their so-called friend in question.

Which I really wasn't..... At all. Things escalated for like an hour, thankfully it all ended within that night, and next to nothing hit the public dashboards. But it was still seen as an odd incident, because other rpers who knew this person better, found their reaction to my post odd (they could tell my post wasn't a jab at all at them). Then about an year later, I was reached out by this person and we both cleared things up.

read more bc iT GETS LONG LMAO

❀ What has made you completely lose your chill?

// SEE, I'm SO confrontational avoidant, it is really difficult for me to pop off in the instant something is happening. I may grow angry and develop resentment, but that only happens after the matter.

So, looking back on some of my shit experiences. I'll have to say that it for sure was back when, I had to deal with ppl who loved cherrypicking everything I said, and distort beyond belief what I was trying to communicate. I don't hide the fact I'm not native in English, and I try my HARDEST to be as clear and straightforward as possible.

BUT THAT DIDN'T STOP TO ATTRACT PEOPLE, who cannot have a rational and level-headed discussion, and have to resort to low moves with me. Why bother coming up with arguments and yknow, keep it within the realm of things we are discussing. When you can just start acting as if, you can't understand a single sentence I write?

Yes gringos, show us how you guys simply cannot communicate with us, because we may have made a small grammar mistake while talking to you in an informal setting like Discord DMs. Just make it all about the semantics, that's such a big brain move. Only native english speakers can do this, we are the pleb and must be thankful, you guys even talk to us foreigners at all. This has unfortunately happened more than once with me, and let me tell you: this shit can get under my skin so FAST. It happened with my writing, and it has happened with some of my muses portrayals as well.

I'm being clear with my statements, but people CHOOSE to misinterpret to suit their views of me. I have always been clear about what my muses are about, but people CHOOSE to run with whatever they want to believe.

✂ A fandom that you feel isn't open and accepting?

// I've been through a handful of Fandoms around here, and I'm going to say it. The RPC that's the worst one, in being the most newcommer unfriendly. That would be League of Legends. Things were already pretty bad, back when I was into it and part of that RPC. And by the looks of it, it only got progressively worse. The Arcane show, only added to that toxicity according to some of my folks, who are still in touch with that series one way or another.

You just don't hear a lot from it now, bc now there is competition for the prize of "the most toxic online community".

❦ Has someone been jealous of you?

// There could have been, and at the same time no one may have felt like that about me. Either way, I really don't care about it, I'm not dying to find that one out. And honestly? That's entirely a their problem.

I genuinely have better things to do in my day. I pity anyone who develops jealousy of others, over tumblr RP of all things.